#hitman! jungkook

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dark and dangerous, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

you were the love of my life the darkness, the light this is a portrait of a tortured you and I is this the end? – up in the air by thirty seconds to mars

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; blind reader; hitman!au (basically John Wick universe; I was inspired by Donnie Yen's character Caine); violence + body disfiguration from violence; reader being forced + blackmailed back to service; tbh, many feels; smut (fem reader, choking / erotic asphyxiation, ink appreciation, a lot of sensual touching, slight D/s due to the situation, mild restraint, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS - retired hitwoman!reader x current hitman!JK; sub!JK; JK’s POV

--

He hadn’t seen her in a long time.

Time was a bitch.

She had defied it in some ways, as he knew she would. Pristine, glossy waves of hair cascading down her left shoulder. Longer than he had ever seen it. Gleaming skin, with that little mole under the right side of her lower lip. A little prefect imperfection under a perpetual faint smile. Blouse with a ruffled collar. Clean black longline trench. That was all he could see from this angle, above the bobbing heads of the packed train car. They were both forced to stand, along with many others. No free seats available. Her shoulders were forward, as if her hands were resting in front of her body. Not holding on to any railing, her back only vaguely leaning against the steel pole.

She wore dark-tinted glasses now.

Cat-eye-shaped, with silver accents. Actually, probably palladium. She had expensive taste.

The train approached a tunnel.

There was chattering, but mostly it was the low buzz of the general public. A mass gathered but not interacting. Passengers politely in their own worlds with the collective backdrop of a thundering train speeding through carved darkness.

The gunshot tore through the murmur.

Everyone began screaming.

He was standing in the corner of the train car, towards the door. Looking very much like a businessman ready to punctually take his leave, and suddenly he was one of the many flattened against the metal walls, crushed past the doors and into the train map. The mass became one. Earsplitting panic ricocheting. The awareness of being contained, confined, trapped, heightening and getting louder. He paid attention to none of it, instead narrowing his eyes and focusing on the way the crowd parted, right at the center.

Right where the woman in dark-tinted glasses was standing.

Her body was ever-so-slightly turned.

It must have been less than a second.

It was so fast that he barely had a chance to see the crouching man with arm extended, and then there was another blast of sound. The fear pitched, piercingly sharp. Instant, whirling black as she closed the distance. Long, thin, rod-like, rising. He finally found out what she kept in her hands in front of her body.

Thwack!

The sound cracked through the air as startlingly as the gunshots. Even faster, perhaps, because there was no hesitation. The untrained eye would be unable to keep up, but he was no untrained eye – one strike, onto the hand, where the delicate bone of the thumb was immediately snapped. The gun flew out of his hand and into the crowd, causing more alarmed screeching as people stampeded away from it, throwing themselves against the sealed doors. The disarmed gunman had no time to shriek. Two strikes to the arm and he was crumpling. Two more. Shoulder, head bowing as the body involuntarily cowered to protect itself and the last, side of the head behind the ear.

The gunman hit the floor with a crunch, groaning wetly.

The hysteria was racing towards critical level, but the train slowed and the doors burst open despite the mechanical reminder to stand back. No one noticed. No one cared. Flinging themselves out, scrambling over each other, clawing to be the first ones to escape. Crying, tripping, running, and then.

Silence.

“The doors are closing. Please stand back.”

The whirr reinstated after the doors closed and the train began moving again. A metal shell was oblivious to human terror.

The woman in dark glasses remained.

There was a gleam of silver towards the top of her cane. Something wicked hiding within.

Her hand shifted and snapped it shut.

She flipped the cane in her hand, the bulbous handle pointing downward.

The man on the ground grunted, shifting.

Crack!

Completely still now.

The gun was still on the floor, all the way to the other side of the car.

The woman stood in the middle. The cane in her hand flipped back to its correct alignment, the tip rapping the floor. It moved forward, to the body, poking it several times. Gingerly. Her lips twisted into a pout of discomfort, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, just one, the disrespect, and she crouched down, sweeping her coat aside.

Ping. Ping.

A familiar sound.

She stuck her hand out and calmly patted down the fallen man. There was a distinct tapping motion rather than a grazing along the body. Manicured nails, and then those nimble fingers flitted under the collar of the jacket her assailant was wearing. An exhale and she pulled, hard, plucking something from the body. A small metal disc, no more than a couple centimeters, with an engraving on it. It looked like a stylized ’S’ with flowers made of blade-like petals.

Her thumb ran across the surface.

“Fuck,” she spat.

Then she tucked the pin into the inside of her coat.

The woman in dark glasses stood back up and tapped the floor with the black cane again. This process had taken about a minute. The train was still moving, onto the next stop. The cane struck the linoleum, repeatedly, against the seats and the metal poles, the tinkering echoing in the cabin.

Stopped.

Shit.

The woman tilted her head slowly, then faced his direction.

“And here I thought you were stupid,” she said, her voice loud and clear, directed to the corner he was standing in. “But actually you were just being courteous to the disabled, hm?”

The black cane turned, silent, the stance of the hand holding it altering from exploratory to predatory.

He had two choices.

Talk or get his ass kicked by an expert of ass-kicking.

He settled on saying, “Not a warning shot.”

She froze.

Still wary and on high alert, but no longer an arrow pulled to the brink against the string of the bow. He saw the twitch of one of her eyebrows.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she hissed in icy annoyance. Her shoulders lowered and her head ticked back. The body language equivalent of rolling one’s eyes. The dark glasses remained though. “Why the fuck are you here? I’m retired.”

He didn’t move from his corner. The tip of that cane was blunt but he just watched her take out a man in five hits. That thing wasn’t made out of plastic – and he was pretty sure it was sheathing a blade. No thanks. “And still getting shot at.”

“I said I was retired, not uninteresting,” she retorted, stance relaxing. He let out the breath he had been holding. “Answer my question.” She rapped the floor sharply and his body immediately snapped to attention.

He should have listened to his superiors.

“Why are you here, Jeon Jungkook?”

Leave the information to be found. Do not engage with the target.

The last time Jungkook saw her, she still had sight.

He let out a soft sigh.

“The Elders are giving you a name.”

The dark tint of those sunglasses did nothing to hide the vicious distaste behind them.

“Tell the Elders to shove the name up their collective assholes,” she growled, but he was already walking forward and the cane was pulling back, poised at an angle at her side.

“I didn’t want to come,” Jungkook said, and it came out quieter and more helpless than he thought it would.

The anger in her expression wiped clean.

The Elders, his superiors, were not to be trifled with.

She tucked her tongue in her cheek as he reached into his suit jacket. It was made an unpatented combination of fibers, the latest in cutting-edge bulletproof fabric. Couldn’t really patent shit made for the general public to not know. He suspected her coat and slacks were made of the same material, which explained the pinging noise earlier.

Old habits die hard.

“I’m blind. Not stupid,” she muttered.

She held her hand out, but her face wasn’t quite in his direction.

He placed the black card with a series of raised dots.

She swiftly pulled it back, not allowing his hand to linger. Mashed it against the top of the cane. He noticed the orb-shaped handle was an intricately carved piece of silver metal. Vines? No, more like stylized lines of water. Or fire. There was a creature within those lines, inset, making it look like it was huddled within.

A bunny.

Her fingertip pressed into the black cardstock. Stopped in between, only halfway. Then pressed on even though they both knew the name on there. He couldn’t read braille but he could read her pissed-off expression pretty well.

She let out a huff.

“Really.”

It wasn’t a question.

“He betrayed us.”

“Like I couldn’t have told you that sooner,” she breathed out in a vengeful exhale. “I warned them. I warned them against taking that American snake’s money. They didn’t listen to me. Took my eyes instead. And now they gave me a name? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He really did not want to see her angry but there was no other reaction she could have.

The train was calling, indicating the next stop was coming.

Jungkook opened his mouth, a single syllable of her name escaping his throat.

The cane shot up and jammed into his chin. Bruising pain. Shut him up and made him jerk back, but she pressed forward, lowering her head, still not quite looking at him, and that was the worst, her not being able to look at him even though she was doing the equivalent of that.

Just…

Differently.

“Young gun,” she sighed, and the hole in his chest tore open a little more upon hearing the nickname she had for him long ago. Back when they were not quite friends on the surface, because this life that they chose didn’t allow for that, but friends nonetheless in the moments that counted. “If they sent you, that means you should stay away from me.”

“They didn’t send me,” Jungkook admitted and he could smell her perfume.

Sweet.

Familiar.

In the past, it had clung to his skin sometimes.

Her head tilted.

The train was slowing, announcement crackling up above. They would have to get off. Can’t be near a body with brain damage and a gun. He spoke softly to the thin air between them.

"I picked up the task with the last messenger was… interrupted. I happened to be closest.”

Silence.

There was the faintest tick at the corner of her lips. She removed her cane from his chin.

“Happened to be closest,” she echoed.

Her voice like smoke curling in the darkness.

“Hm.”

The train stopped.

The doors slid open.

She backed up and turned away. The cane tapped from side to side. Side to side, a rhythm and routine of finding the opened doors. The mechanical announcement called above their heads. He watched her stride away confidently, a stricken feeling in his chest, remembering something she used to whisper to him in the dark, I love looking at you, curling smoke all around them as scarred fingertips slid up his naked forearm.

She stopped at the exit.

“Don’t follow me.”

Walked out.

Jungkook followed.

-

“How’s your father?”

“I told you not to follow me.”

They were standing at a crosswalk and he was behind her. Not that close but close enough. She stayed close to the pole where repeated beeps indicated it was not safe to cross yet. Cars zipped by. For some reason, Jungkook found them unnaturally loud and violent even though he had never thought that about cars before.

“He’s fine.”

He glanced at her face but there was no expression.

“Still has dementia, still gambles and milks every cent out of the old folks in the retirement complex. You would think he would ease up once he’s struggling to remember the people in his life but, nope, he’s completely content with only knowing how to kick your ass in poker.”

There was a resonance of bitterness in those words but, also, a feeling long gone.

She ticked her head. “They keep him alive to remind me he doesn’t remember I exist. Least he pays his own bills with his habits.”

It was safe to cross now.

He watched the cane sway and tap. She walked calmly and with ease. Maybe even a swagger. It relaxed him as he fell in step.

“You do what you know,” he commented, his eyes darting, taking in his surroundings.

“I really try not to, young gun.”

They walked briskly along the streets. She turned this way and that, stopping once at a fruit stand to buy some apples. The merchant accepted the bills handed to him. She asked if it was enough. Jungkook saw it was more than enough. The merchant replied it was the exact amount. She hummed and stepped away before Jungkook could say anything. He hurried after, and she immediately turned and walked right into a laundromat.

The repeated thump-thump-thump of whirring washing machines and dryers radiated all around them as people fought with their duvets and swore under their breath.

“You overpaid,” Jungkook hissed, stepping closer.

“Such is life,” was her reply. She chuckled, tap, tap tapping away, hitting the edges of the machines but not a single person seemed to notice or care, too busy hurling themselves into the large cavities to yank out their sopping garments. “I do it sometimes just to see if they’ll correct me. They don’t.”

He frowned and made a mental note of the man’s face.

Just in case.

She held delicately to the bag of apples and shouldered her way into the back double doors.

Kept walking, through the back of the laundromat, into the alleys, and now the faces here were different. Keen, sharp gazes that ignored her presence but immediately narrowed upon seeing Jungkook, looking him up and down. Men and women, in musty coats and worn-out gloves with holes in them, backpacks and carts. A complete turnaround from his sharp three-piece suit and neatly parted hair. She breezed past, the apples rustling in the plastic bag, skimming her cane along the concrete, not quite looking exactly forward. Her head was slightly tilted; one ear closer to him.

“I told you not to follow me,” she chuckled.

“I see that,” Jungkook let himself say, calmly and without emotion.

“I don’t,” she quipped back.

There was a lightness to her tone that indicated there was no danger as long as he kept his hands to himself. He continued to follow.

Someone on his right reached out and shoved him.

The cane whipped through the air, swatting Jungkook’s left arm and pinning it to his body. He grimaced, feeling the solid stripe of pain, noticing her movement had stopped his body from colliding with another in this narrow alley. The woman to his left glared at him, grinding her teeth. The shove hadn’t hurt.

It was just disrespectful as hell.

What had been previous tense silence erupted into malicious sniggers.

Droning all around.

Jungkook gritted his teeth and pushed his anger down.

Her head jerked like a hawk.

“You know the rules,” she warned to the air. “You upset me and I will take your offering from the shrine and then there will be nothing to protect you.”

The sniggering immediately died.

Now the silence wasn’t tense.

It was fear.

She removed her cane from Jungkook’s arm and swung it in an arc. Slowly.

Stopping.

Jungkook didn’t have to turn his head. He heard the sharp intake of breath. Hard not to in the terrified hush. He didn’t say anything. He let her handle it. If he reacted, there would be cracked skulls. He had a feeling that the woman in dark glasses would be a lot more pissed at him if that was the case. He did not want to make her angry. It seemed like a bad idea.

She whacked the tip of the cane against the brick wall.

Everyone flinched.

Even Jungkook felt a muscle in his shoulder twitch, reacting to the loud, piercing sound.

She turned back around and continued walking.

No one bothered them after that.

They finally turned and stopped at a makeshift shrine in the middle of the maze of alleys. It seemed to be a clearing point. An intersection of sorts, where a group of buildings were sequestered awkwardly due to poor planning. Someone had created a structure in the middle of this chaos with a shingled roof and a statue in the center surrounded by a sandy pit of burnt incense sticks. There was a wall behind it, with strips of paper tacked on, fronted by tables overflowing with fruit and cellophane-packaged boxes.

She placed the bag down and it tumbled against a stack of oranges, one red apple spilling out of the plastic and hitting some pears.

Jungkook stepped up and corrected it.

She faced the papers. They flapped about like ducks crowding a lake, not in the wind but in the hot air blasting out a vent from of one of the buildings. She made a noise that sounded like disapproval and irritation mixed together. Turned and walked purposefully away, running her cane along the cracks of the concrete.

Jungkook followed once more as she stepped out, following a walkway between two buildings.

Stopped.

There was a door to their right, inset within the walls. Or, not a door. He frowned. Instead of a handle, there was an odd dent in this part of the wall that seemed to cave inward. She paused, tapping the cane along the ground. There was a hollow sound, and Jungkook looked down to see some metal tiles littered against the door. She stepped forward, treading along the otherwise meaningless metal sealed into the concrete. She slid the cane up in her hand, gripping below the rounded handle.

The orb made of swirls around a bunny.

She raised it and with surprising accuracy, within two taps against the door, slid the orb into the dent.

There was a whirr and a click.

The door slid open, a strip of light appearing on the ground.

She stepped inside.

Jungkook followed.

“What if you lose your cane?” he wondered out loud.

The door slid closed after they entered.

“There’s another way to get in, obviously,” she tutted. “All I have to do is bleed on it.”

A hollow silence.

They were in darkness except for the thin line of light at the bottom of the door.

“I…”

“Don’t need to talk,” she interrupted. “I need to shower and then pack some things. Wait.”

She stepped out of her shoes and placed the cane against the wall beside them. Felt along shoulder height, pressing switches. Stripes of light gleamed from above and below the walls, along the edges and sides. He had to pause to take it in. Black ceilings with brocade-patterned obsidian wallpaper where the designs were glossy compared to the matte background. A squishy-looking coffee-colored leather couch, a huge sound system bolted to the wall above an electric fireplace, bobbly blankets stuffed in a basket. No television, no coffee table. A large, empty space behind this area with a large set of dark wood armories along the wall. To his right, a kitchen with dark granite countertops that had similar notable differences than what he was used to. When she walked, she followed the lines of light along the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he called after her.

She stopped.

“I should have…”

“Shut up, young gun.”

She didn’t sound angry or pissed off.

She just sounded tired and that was worse.

“You couldn’t have done anything. This is the life we have.”

“I should have tried to find you,” Jungkook pleaded to that back, to that longline black coat and graceful legs. Dancer’s legs, he used to think, so nimble and quick that he could never keep up. He had been a little envious of how lithe she was back then. Aroused at how she always struck with such poise, something he wasn’t good at. He preferred brute force. Learned outmaneuvering from watching her move, often. It was addicting, watching her move, and he had found himself wanting more.

He hadn’t expected this would be the result.

She reached up in one smooth motion and removed her sunglasses. Placed them on the kitchen island.

The palladium on the edges of the dark lenses glammed.

“You wouldn’t have found me.”

She turned.

Starburst eyelashes surrounding white, mottled irises framed by twisted scar tissue.

A faint, emotionless smile.

“Can’t find a shadow when they’re all around you, Jungkook.”

-

He breathed in.

The bed smelled just like her. Her perfume, mixed with fabric softener, and there was that indescribable scent that could only be described as his perception of her. The smell that didn’t change despite the perfume, the smell he breathed in now with his back flat on the mattress, the smell that only he knew because its effect on him was different from everyone else. It was an experience. It was memories. It was…

Jeon Jungkook breathed in, laying on her bed as she showered.

He hadn’t asked. Probably should have. His arms were spread out with the backs of his hands touching the duvet. His black jacket and vest were draped on the pale chestnut-colored velvet armchair next the bed. At least he had kept his dress shirt and necktie on. He had thought about removing them. Letting his bare skin touch the folded duvet, even slip under to be against the sheets, but even he had a limit to his insanity.

He had thought about it though.

Maybe would have done it if she meant a little less.

He had missed her smell. He inhaled again. The last time he memorized it, she still had sight. It had been so long. Time was a bitch. His hands turned. The duvet was made of a cool, creamy linen. He closed his eyes, fingertips grazing the soft fabric, something satisfying about the wrinkled texture, organic, imagining their body lines pressed against it.

He bunched the fabric in his fists.

Let go, sighing.

For not the first time, Jungkook wondered how it could have been different.

He hadn’t missed the details. All of the furniture in this home had rounded corners. Lines of light streamed throughout every room, clearly indicating all the corners and edges of the walls. There were little speakers positioned discreetly, waiting for her command. No mirrors anywhere. No windows. Hole in the wall that no one was supposed to know was here, although Jungkook was sure the Elders somehow knew. Or guessed. Sometimes one didn’t need to have full information to cause enough disruption. He gritted his teeth even though he understood why she hadn’t been in touch.

The rage within him, from witnessing how she now lived, was beyond violent.

Careful there, young gun.

This was Korea but Jungkook was eager to introduce the Elders to the language of Columbian neckties.

You’re so reckless. I like that about you.

He was of the belief that he could handle the details later. The reality was that he was just very lucky to meet certain people in this business of killing for hire. People who saw something in him, whatever it was. Youth. Energy. Power. He was coasting a little because of his looks.

That was part of playing the game, too.

He liked playing the game. It had been a necessity once, and now he liked it. Because of ego. Because he had a natural talent for it. Because there was a time where he believed there were no rules – but the rules were always there, a silken web underneath his feet. In this business, one didn’t get to decide to work for the Elders.

The Elders decided when you worked for them.

Crossing paths was inevitable.

He had almost hated it. And then he met her. Same business. Different approach when it came to dealing with the cards that had been dealt. A moment that meant everything. Pivotal. Fate. Guns crossed and he knew. He knew the moment he looked into her eyes.

Jungkook turned his head and inhaled again, drenching his lungs with her scent.

Opened his eyes.

She was gliding into the bedroom, a long, dark maroon silk robe flaring out against her legs. Her hand was following the wall, three fingertips grazing against the black wallpaper. Skin gleaming, hair pinned in large, soft curlers, head tilted to one side. The silk clung to her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, and then she turned, facing the dresser.

Her hands lifted, finding the glided edges of the dark wood, stroking the intricate profile of inlaid silver.

“If I didn’t know better, I would be creeped out right now,” she chuckled.

He sat up.

“Do you know better?”

He didn’t know how he wanted that to sound, but those words escaped with an edge of uncertainty.

On the dresser was a plate with a perfume and a collection of faceted crystals. Her hand was dancing upward, following the surface, finding the dark glass bottle. He didn’t understand the meaning of the various stones, but for some reason he didn’t think they were there for a spiritual reason.

Those thoughts were confirmed as her other hand drifted over them, following the edges.

“You’re simple, young gun.”

She doused herself with sprays of spicy gourmand.

Exhaled, satisfied.

He could smell it from here and it made him ravenous.

“And not that subtle,” she added, smooth and biting.

Silence.

Neither of them moved.

Jungkook found that despite the carnal instincts eating up in the cavity of his ribcage, he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to turn around. Knotted lines and white orbs. He grimaced and hoped it was silent. Still, he didn’t look away from her back, his skin burning all over with festering shame and guilt.

She shifted her weight, accenting the delicious curve of her hip.

Dark silk molded to those body lines.

Yeah, Jungkook was sure that he didn’t want to stop looking.

“Are you supposed to be accompanying me?” she asked.

He could lie. “I’ve been assigned to be your eyes.”

She snorted.

He would have followed anyway, orders or not. The orders were there to both torment and annoy him. Well, the level of pain depended on how he felt about the situation, he knew. And that depended on how he could navigate this moment, right now. Currently the status was, not well. Her back still facing him after all.

“Stupid motherfuckers.”

“Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself. It was funny and familiar, her swearing. He noticed the pin with the lotus and the stylized ‘S’ in her hand now. She ran her thumb over it. There was a tension in her shoulders. He didn’t recognize that symbol and that bothered him.

“I thought you were retired?”

She hummed, tapping the metal against the wood. “I am. I got bored. Gotta pick up hobbies, you know.”

“I could pick up your hobby,” he offered.

She chuckled again, placing the pin down and sliding it to between white crystals. “Sadly, I think that fun will have to wait. I’m being called to service and all that shit.”

Silence again.

It was hard to know how much time passed though. Time almost didn’t seem real in within these walls.

She broke it.

“Don’t you want to get out?”

He took a moment.

“The Elders would have called you back eventually.”

He let that statement hang in the air.

“Tracking was never your strong suit.”

Yeah, it wasn’t.

“Now it’s not mine either.”

Jungkook winced and hoped she couldn’t hear it. Her head ticked. Sigh.

“My fucked-up eyes bother you?”

“No.” Shit. He said that way too fast. “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, Jungkook.”

Her words cut through him, razor-sharp and accurate. He withered despite not being viewed.

“You know the Elders suspected you might intercept. They’re old, not dumb.” He did know. He still didn’t say anything. He struggled to say it out loud, but she had no trouble. “They are testing you. They will manipulate you no matter how you feel about it. The best way to avoid those puppet strings is to feel nothing at all. You are putting yourself in danger.”

It was unbearable, saying nothing.

“What about you?” he asked softly.

A pause.

He saw he index finger bounce silently on the edge of the dresser.

Her head turned a little more, the curlers holding her hair blocking the side of her face. She reached one and, one by one, removed them. Pulling out pins. Setting them on the dresser. Pulling out the soft curlers, setting the cylinders on the flat side so they didn’t roll away. Locks of hair cascading down, falling, falling, framing shoulders and back.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing, separating the waves with her fingers.

Messy.

“I told you. I’m retired.”

His lips parted.

“Not uninteresting.”

The side of her mouth curved upward.

“You shouldn’t have intercepted the messenger.”

There was something about the way she said it. Teasing rather than chiding. And yet there was still that hesitation. He let his eyes roam over her partial side profile.

“I’ve been in danger from the day I met you,” Jungkook finally admitted and he didn’t mean his physical self.

From what he could see of her expression behind her hair was an amused one. “Shit. You’re gonna make me blush, young gun,” she snickered.

Her words had the opposite effect. He felt his neck heat and instantly reached back to rub it, trying not to let it show. Well, she couldn’t see anyway. After a split second of consideration, he let out the low noise of embarrassment. Her head lifted, hair shifting. He saw the side of her mouth soften to a faint smile.

“I wonder how you’ve changed,” she breathed out. “Can’t appreciate you like I used to.”

He still couldn’t quite see her eyes. They were covered by curls of hair shadowing her temples.

Jungkook let himself say her name the way he wanted to.

She didn’t move, still life wrapped in deep scarlet silk.

“I don’t believe you.”

He could see it now, the subtle change in her demeanor. Sharpened. He had said the words with a smile and she could tell. Tone or volume or both. If possible, more frightening now. More deadly. More of a weapon, which was why, he assumed, the mutilation was done rather than an execution.

“You’re blind. Not stupid,” he reminded her.

Her head and body turned.

The way her hair framed her face, only half done. The slim openings of the robe securely tied at the waist, exposing thin white scars and the raised marring of worse ones. Retired, sure, but not that long ago, and still honed in muscle and movement. She wasn’t that much older than him. She just called him young gun to get on his nerves a little. Had seniority over him in this business and all that. Pretty easy to have seniority when one was given to the Elders as a child.

Payment.

He wasn’t always a good gambler. We all start somewhere.

Jungkook stood up.

Those clouded orbs found the source of blocked light at the end of the bed. It was a different feeling, being the focal point knowing the other didn’t have sight. Unnerving was the wrong word. He was just very aware that he was the target of her senses. With sight, he realized, he had an inherent level of complacency. There were a lot of intricacies in a single glance. The concrete details mattered less than the contrast between what he expected versus what he didn’t expect.

Ah.

Her lips curved into a dangerous smirk.

He admired it.

She moved forward, silent.

“You do seem to have put on more muscle,” she hummed. “Heavy.”

“You always reminded me to remember to eat while on the job.” The direction of his voice. His breathing. “You’ve learned more skills. Scary.”

She grinned. “I’ve had some free time. Wait till you see me dual wield.”

She stopped in front of him.

Raised her head.

Jungkook found he saw a lot more when he looked into her scarred eyes than he ever expected.

“You have changed,” she murmured.

A faint smile.

“Y… Yeah,” he breathed back, the ache in his ribs rattling.

It was different.

She reached up and forward. Fingertips grazing his shirt, then finding the tie. Following it with two hands, carefully. Seeing. He tried to stay still. Focused on her face, the little smile when she found the tie clip, muttering under her breath, oh, you’ve become a little more of a man, huh, and her body language, relaxed. Comfortable. Details he would have ignored given different circumstances.

What else had he missed all this time?

He was still lacking in some areas, he realized.

She was unraveling his tie.

“I hope you have learned how to tie a tie by now.”

He hadn’t. “Nope.”

A laugh. “You hate them anyway.” She folded it in her hands and held it to the side. “Hold onto it for me. I might need it.”

His skin tingled, the sensation traveling up his back. Lifted his hand and let it linger, brushing past her callused knuckles, taking the necktie from her. A contrast from their past. This was a measured ferocity compared to a fast-paced chase. He ran his fingertips along her wrist, trailing off her forearm. She smiled and he felt it everywhere, in his blood and in his nerves, his world alight once more.

Skin-to-skin.

She raised her hands again and followed his shirt placket, starting from the top.

“I like this cologne.”

“You said it was your favorite.”

“You really can’t be subtle to save your life, can you, Jungkook?”

She teased him as easily as she teased the buttons from their restraints. He bit his lower lip, sucking in a breath.

“I’m really trying to be patient right now,” he gritted out.

She smiled again.

This was her smile she only showed him.

He was sure of it.

His shirt was halfway unbuttoned now. She leaned in, locks of hair curling over her shoulders, spreading the placket open with two fingers. Breathed out. The heated air washed over his chest, and he closed his eyes, shuddering, ignited desire shimmering in his raging blood. She did it again, but this time with his name.

“Jungkook…”

His head tipped back, lips parting, the low sound of clawing lust bubbling in his throat. His hands came up, tensely resting on her silken shoulders.

The rest of the buttons came undone as he himself unraveled.

Her hands slid in, fingers spreading over his flexed abdomen. Cool, careful, seeing him. He gasped, struggling to keep still. Exploring his scars, known and new. His shirt peeled back, tugging out of his slacks as she touched him. Along his sides, his chest. His nipples, and she flicked one, making him hiss and flinch. They hardened as she rubbed them.

“Still like that, hm.”

“S… Shut up.”

Her palms over his pectoral muscles, fingers fanning out.

“Been working out, haven’t you?”

His breathing was shallow. “Gotta pick up hobbies, you know.”

A soft laugh. She gently knocked back his arms, pushing the dress shirt off his shoulders. Confines, he concluded. Her fingertips paused on his right shoulder. He looked down, body on fire. Her lips were parted, pink tongue dancing on the edge of for lips.

“You have tattoos.”

Oh.

That was right. She hadn’t seen yet.

“Hobbies,” he snickered.

She turned her head, fingertips hesitating.

Jungkook reached up and pressed her hand to his arm.

“Please. Look.”

It was a strange, intoxicating sensation. Being touched like this, guiding her along. He murmured under his breath, describing them one by one. She could follow, especially the newer ones or the ones that were done over his scars. She lingered by the tiger lilies on the inside of his forearm. There was a patch of black there. Amusement flitting across her features. Continued down, following the outline another tattoo, tracing the eyelashes.

She cocked an eyebrow.

“I think I might change that one. In light of… events.”

Her cheek tightened in mirth. Just more confirmation that she was alarmingly acute in sensing tone and meaning beyond words.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He froze, feeling her other hand sliding up his back as the one he was holding slid down to his knuckles, caressing them as her lids lowered. Lines of scars, across starburst lashes and across his spine, closer, her fingers lacing with his, her chin lifting.

That small mole under the right side of her plush lower lip.

“You have goosebumps, Jungkook,” she purred, dragging her nails down his back.

He closed the distance.

Her scent all around him.

Her taste.

The fervor seeped into him when their lips connected, ravaging his senses and his thoughts, body to body. Nights and days, culminated memories bleeding into now, into the ferocity of their kiss, her fingers claiming his back and his in her hair, tangled in the mess, clasped hands below them, squeezing tight.

He thought he would never see her again.

Never hold, never touch, never breathe in her breath.

He was afraid too. Afraid it wouldn’t feel the same. Afraid their euphoria was broken by interference and ego. Afraid he was wrong, abut himself, about her, about them.

But he wasn’t.

Jungkook could tell.

She let go of his hand and wrapped it around his throat.

“I missed your taste,” she whispered into his moan, in between nicks of teeth and feathery kisses. “You know what makes someone dangerous?” Her grip tightened, pulling him down to her, red silk slipping off her shoulders. “When they have someone to die for.” Her lips traveling over his jaw, to his gasping mouth, his blood flow slowing as her fingers pressed into the sides of his neck. “When they have someone to live for.” Ravenous kiss, making his eyes roll back and his air disappear, lightheaded as he touched the exposed skin of her upper arm, knotted lines of scar tissue from a previous gunshot wound under his fingertips.

She murmured to his open mouth, husky voice a caress.

“When they have someone to kill for.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his erection straining against his slacks, pressing it into her naked thigh.

“You…”

Jungkook stared into her white eyes and she reveled in the darkness, basking in his shadows, seeing all of him with all her other senses.

“You made me all three,” he gasped.

Her grip loosened and the blood rushed back, making his eyelids flutter and fire crawl up his scalp.

A resolved sigh.

“We are one and the same, you and I.”

His hands following the memorized lines across her back. The dark red silk pooling onto the floor. Her hand between them, stroking him through his clothes, choking him again. Pleasure seeping down his tense thighs, up his clenched abs. The pressure winding within his core, his lips trembling against her calm, so close to the perfect imperfection of that mole under a silver tongue.

“Guns just waiting to be aimed.”

-

She held down his wrists bound by his necktie.

Rammed her hips into his and he hissed, back arching, bouncing on the mattress. Torn condom wrapper on the floor by their discarded clothes. Saliva drying on the inside of his hard thighs still tingling from bites. Her other hand pressed down on his chest, pushing him back into place. Fuck, so tight. So wet, constricting around his cock, the swollen head throbbing against her pulsing walls.

Her face was directed to the side.

Seeing with her ears.

He groaned, feeling her hips rock, building the pace deliberately, squeezing every centimeter. Fuck. He pressed his head into the pillows, black strands invading his vision. His own hair a mess. Whimpers threatening to break free. She raked her fingernails over his chest, teasing his hardened nipples. Toying with him. Rolling her hips as he thrust up, a vain attempt to fight back.

Her fingers fanned over his wrists, palm pressing down on the knot.

“I’ve missed your sound,” she shuddered, her hand on his chest sliding to his collarbones.

Her nail scraped against his Adam’s apple, sparking electricity through his veins.

“Just… fuck… choke me, please.”

The side of her lips twisted into a smirk.

“I’ll wrap my hand around your neck.”

So tight, with love.

Her grip closed in, causing the fire to prickle over his skin, up his cheeks and down his spine. Limited oxygen, heightened awareness, pleasure flowing to every core, bound at the wrists but finally free, losing himself to the sound of connected bodies and swirling moans, to the shock of firm, wet slaps between hips, to the scent of sex weighing down the air, soaking it, to the taste of iron as he chewed on his lower lip, whines leaking out between his teeth, deeper, harder, faster.

His vision hazed, edges smoking with black.

Her chin tipped down.

Clouded white.

He was exposed, torn open and ripped apart by that gaze that was no more.

He could barely force the words out, the ache in his ribs pooling down, down.

“Take… me…”

She breathed in, seeing all of him.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

She let go of his wrists and layered both her hands over his throat, choking him harder and fucking him into the mattress. Air gone, his eyes rolling back, vision black, power radiating in every thrust, and he felt her body weight shift downward, fingertips digging into the sides of his neck, hopefully leaving bruises, his resolve cracking, slick walls around him throbbing in their shared pulse, there.

“F-Fuck!”

He rammed his hips up and the orgasm shot through him in shattering bolts, through his burning muscle and his empty lungs, his cock jerking, and then – release – his voice returning in a hoarse moan, another wave slamming into him, another level, creating a ripple effect throughout his nerves that electrified him, burning, gasping, his spine locked in an arc, hearing her exhale his name in a wanton hiss, clenching, spasms, sweet and sticky between their thighs.

His tongue extended, tasting the air, their passion palpable and pungent.

His body was trembling so much he was sure she could feel it even through her hands flat on the bed next to his head. She raised one, tracing his trembling jaw. Ran the pad of her fingertip over his quivering lips. Her name came out in a weak rasp, hot and shaking against her touch.

And yet he wanted her hands around his throat again.

How he missed that feeling.

“Jungkook…”

She saw with her hands. In scent and sound. In previous knowledge, and she knew his body so well, his heat and his hunger. Bondage was temporary. Trust was forever. She could mark him in bites and in scratches, but her scars were in the cavity of his ribs, in his heart that still yearned and in hers that she kept from him to protect them from becoming tools against the other.

Jungkook was afraid.

But he had someone to die for, to live for, to kill for.

And that made him dangerous.

So the Elders could try to rip them apart, but he was sure now that they would go down causing irreversible damage.

She ran her hands over his heaving chest.

“I’m not doing this stupid assignment until I’ve made up for lost time,” she panted, warning sharpness to her tone.

He smirked.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

--

masterpost

[itboythings]

is there something wrong with HYBE/BIGHIT? do they dislike jimin?

since people don't want to admit it...

"seven" by jungkook is a tactic by hitman bang and scooter braun to surpass "like crazy" by jimin.

jimin goes number one on the billboard hot 100 in the first week of april. jungkook is then flown out weeks later to LA during Coachella where he is courted by scooter's artists and their entourage for days. he is then given a single by bangPD and is put in a studio with a western producer under scooter's watch. mind you, weeks before like crazy was released, jk said he had ZERO plans to release an album and needed to find the inspiration (the album is still not done as of today). taehyung was supposed to release his album sometime during this summer but this impromptu project has left me curious as to why that has not happened.

why is it that you feel the need to recreate and emulate the success of like crazy with jungkook instead of just taking the time to make sure that like crazy gets the push that it deserves? is that too much to ask?

the song received minimal playlisting. also, it was NEVER sent to radio. radio djs had to search the song because they never had a file for it. the song was ignored for weeks until dedicated jimin supporters (not even armys) pushed for the song by calling or texting in requests. even then, the radio support was not there.

now, jungkook's song will be serviced to radio immediately upon release.

the same armys that said "like crazy" WAS NOT sent to radio because hybe does not do payola are now saying the song WAS sent to radio but wasn't being played because of xenophobia....lol.

radio means much more on the billboard charts these days and bts fans literally mass buy songs to get them to chart because even streams are NOT enough to get a good position on the hot100.

as far as billboard rules are concerned, everyone knows about jimin dropping from number one in the second week. however, this was preventable.

hybe/bighit could have prevented this from happening.

jungkook had an extended preorder period (longer than j-hope's single) in which the fans could buy itunes versions of the songs and a physical CD. it is later revealed that a billboard hot100 rule change would take place during his preorder period that no longer counts digital sales from a D2C store. jungkook never had D2C digitals to begin with which means that hybe/bighit KNEW about the billboard changes before they were made.

if this is true, then that means they also KNEW about the rules being changed after jimin went number one on the hot100. this simple rule change left jimin with a "free fall" record that is absolutely due to the company's negligence.

the same negligence has allowed jimin to become the punching bag of the fandom. he has been criticized and blamed for having "more" during his solo release than the other members before him which is not fair.

jimin's album was announced a week after suga announced a world tour. in jimin's promo schedule, there was an entire week missing. "on the street" by j-hope was announced a few days later.

jimin had to take a week off of promo from his album in order to compensate j-hope who would be leaving to the military in the following month. if they were to wait and announce his album AFTER on the street was released and had a full tracking week, then there would not be enough time to promote or have ample preorder time for his album. he was not given extra time because they love him so much.

he had 9 days.

they consolidated his promotional period into 9 days which is ridiculous to think about. he was struggling with shoulder and neck pain which is his chronic injury that he has to treat. he was caught on camera talking about how he felt as if there wasn't enough time or that the promotions were too short. to have his album released and a week later, see another album be announced was so shocking.

in just 9 days there were articles slandering jimin's name, his album sales were basically deleted (the company never demanded transparency), his youtube views were being deleted, his song's streams were split, etc etc etc. all of which could have been stopped by his company.

in 9 days, jimin was on the receiving end of vile insults and remarks that he was in a s*xual, transactional relationship with higher ups in his company and that is why he was able to get any achievements. the display names of multiple twitter users were changed to mock him, lewd s*x jokes were made about him, and now, to this day people trend hashtags alluding to a relationship between him and bang pd in which he was gr00med and SA'd. not to mention he is receiving p*do allegations because of a pair of pants he wore.

all of this because of 4 weeks of preorders and a number 1 on billboard. 9 days changed everything. it has changed the way "armys" see him, and the amount of horrible things people say about him has intensified.

but nobody will do this to jungkook.

even though they didn't do this to suga (who has now been promoting his album for like 4 months), they definitely won't do this to jungkook AT ALL. a huge american rollout is expected and nobody will give a damn. the same people that discouraged the "tools" jimin had to succeed, now encourage jungkook to have them and the company is doing nothing to discourage them anyway.

armys baby jungkook and have moved the goal post so far that now they can recognize that it is the company behind his promotion but when other members barely got any of that, it was just the member's "own choices"?

ok.

-----

i could probably add more but i wanted to rant here. i know i'm all over the place but if you made it to the end of this post and read through my typos, thanks.

sincerely,

a jimin biased army who is strongly considering leaving this fandom alone

[writemywaytoyourheart]

afth drabble 1: wedding plans

pairing: afth jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluffffff (it is fluffy, don’t say i didn’t warn you)

wc: 3k 

drabble masterlist

summary; in which you and jungkook are getting married in a few months and the boy is stressed af, also tae is a mood as always.

_______________________________

"Hey, where's ____?"

Jungkook looks up from the invitation in his hand that he's been inspecting for the past half hour. 

"She's shopping for wedding dresses," Jungkook says, "Yeona didn’t tell you?"

Tae shakes his head and shuts the front door as realization dawns on him. 

Jungkook shakes his head as he chuckles, watching Tae come over and sit next to him at the small table closest to the door. The sound of halmeoni in the kitchen drifts into the dining area, setting the comforting scene of familiarity. 

"I wonder why she didn't tell me. She just said she was going to get groceries for her mom today."

Jungkook raises a brow, "If she told you, would you have insisted on going?"

"Well of course! I-" Tae cuts himself off, "Huh..."

Jungkook laughs quietly as Tae frowns, "Well now, that's not fair. I wanted to go and see the dresses!"

"Well, what about me?" Jungkook asks incredulously, "I need help too!"

"With what?" Tae asks bitterly. 

The younger scoffs in disbelief at his tone, "With a lot of stuff. Just because I'm not buying a wedding dress doesn't mean I'm not stressed out," he snaps. 

Tae gives him a side eye as he thinks about that. 

"You told Yeona to lie to me, didn't you?"

Jungkook nods, not even denying it, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you'd want to go and hang out with them and look at the dresses and I don't get to go and halmeoni has had to deal with me for weeks and now it's your turn," Jungkook grumbles, "And besides, have you forgotten who your best friend is?"

"Damn, chill out."

"Now, don't go fighting," halmeoni scolds gently as she hobbles into the dining area carrying a tray with a teapot and a few cups. 

Jungkook jumps up and takes the tray from her, then gently tells her to take a seat. She sits down on the softest cushion, the one they always leave for her, then she gestures for him to set the tray down. 

After the tray is settled on the table, Jungkook sits down again, looking over at Tae who now has the invitation in his hand, inspecting it carefully just as Jungkook had been doing minutes ago. 

"What's wrong with it?" He asks. 

Jungkook shrugs, "Nothing really, it's pretty. I just don't think it's what ____ and I wanted, it isn't clicking."

"The yellow and black are nice. The design looks a bit more like a graduation invite though," Tae muses. 

Jungkook nods and points at the small card, "Exactly! That's what I was thinking! I don't know why the company won't listen to our requests."

Halmeoni takes it from Tae and looks at it, deep in thought. 

After a moment of silence, she turns to the youngest, "Jungkook, why don't you just design it? You could get it closer to what you two want before any company can."

There's another beat of silence before Taehyung bursts into laughter and Jungkook's face turns bright red. 

"I didn't think of that," he says sheepishly. 

"You're an artist, dumbass!" Tae cackles before cutting himself off when the usually gentle old woman sends him a warning glare. 

"No need to make him more stressed, Taehyung," She scolds, "He's got a lot on his plate."

Then she turns to Jungkook and rests a wrinkly hand on one of his fidgety ones, "You will be able to make it perfect and it'll help with the cost. I know you won't be making many invites anyway and you aren’t worried about money, but it will still save you some unnecessary stress."

"Do you think ____ will be okay with it?" He asks, unsure.

Tae looks at him in disbelief, "Dude, what? She's more in love with your work than anyone, and besides, she's been dropping hints about you making them."

"She has?" Jungkook's eyes bulge.

His best friend nods, "Yup."

"Gosh," Jungkook drops his head in his hands, "I've been so stressed out I didn't even realize."

"It's alright," Tae assures him, "You're not doing this by yourself. Everyone is doing their best to make this wedding amazing. You don't have to go at it alone, you know? We've got four months; we can get it done."

Jungkook nods, feeling silly for putting everything on his shoulders when you and all of your friends have been doing more than he realized. He just wanted it to be as stress free as he could make it for you. How did five months turn into four months already though?

"Ok, so I'm going to work on the invitations...Jimin and Yeona are with ____ dress shopping, Beomgyu already has the flower arrangements designed and is ready to start when the time comes..." He bites his lip in thought, "What else is there? Fuck, my brain is scrambled."

"I've already got the venue reserved," Tae says gently.

"Ah, yes! Thank you," Jungkook sighs in relief, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes to ease his stress-induced headache. 

"And I will be making the cake," halmeoni reminds him sweetly, "Once you and ____ have decided on what design you like."

Jungkook gives her a grateful smile, beyond thankful for all her help during this, even when she just makes tea and talks him down from his panic attacks. 

"What else is there?" He mumbles to himself. 

"The wedding party is decided and in the process of getting attire, decorations have been ordered, the food needs to be finalized, and you need to take a drink of tea," Taehyung lists off quickly, handing Jungkook a cup. 

Jungkook takes it and takes a sip, a hand still to his head, "Why did we decide on the date so soon?" 

"Because the date you want to get married is important to you. It's already February and you don't want to have to wait more than a year to get married just to wait for June again, do you?" Tae reminds him.

Jungkook shakes his head. 

Halmeoni pats his hand, "You and ____ didn't want to wait very long anyway, remember? You were engaged for three months before deciding. I for one agreed with you, what's the use of being engaged for years and going through all this hullabaloo when you know you want to get married?" 

He nods slowly. 

It's true, the two of you didn't see the point in being engaged for a long time. Besides, it's not like it’s going to be some grand ceremony with hundreds of guests. It’s going to be smaller, something both of you prefer, but also very special. You don't need over a year to plan it. 

It's just a lot more than he thought, even for a small wedding. 

"It's gonna be okay," Tae says gently, "I promise."

Jungkook lifts his head to look at his best friend, "Thanks Tae, seriously. I've been so in my head that I didn't realize how much you've been helping. Shit, you're more up to date on this wedding than I am."

Taehyung smiles brightly, "I actually enjoy this, maybe wedding planning is what I should do instead of this police baloney."

"That would be iconic though," Jungkook chuckles, "Best homicide detective and wedding planner in all of Busan. You'd have clients climbing through your windows."

"To be fair, I'm not even a detective yet."

"Yet," Jungkook emphasizes as he shakes his head, "The irony." 

Who would imagine an ex-hitman going into the police force and becoming a homicide detective, of all things?

Halmeoni smiles at Taehyung's proud grin.

"Speaking of the cops," Tae says after a second, "Are you inviting Seokjin and Yoongi?"

Jungkook nods, "Hoseok said to send the invitations to him and he would deliver them by hand. I'm not expecting them to show up, but it's worth a try."

"Sounds reasonable, this is probably a first for them," Tae guffaws. 

"Probably," Jungkook tries to hold in a laugh himself. 

Halmeoni shakes her head at the two young men giggling in front of her like a couple of schoolboys crushing on someone. 

"I'm convinced the two of you have gone mad with all this wedding planning," she says as she sips her tea. 

That just makes them laugh harder.

_________________________________

"You look so beautiful," Jimin says tearfully as he looks at you, hands going over his mouth to contain his inevitable sobs.

You smile at him through the huge mirror, brushing at your own eyes when you see him struggling not to cry. 

"You're not s-supposed to cry y-yet!" You scold him while laughing tearfully. 

"Sorry!" He squeaks out, turning so he can fix himself up.

Yeona laughs and walks over to you, "You look absolutely stunning, love."

A bright smile lights up your face at her words. 

Over the past eight months of knowing her, she's grown to be one of your closest friends; spending girl nights together when Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook would hang out. 

You've lost count of the number of sleepovers the two of you have had. 

The most recent months have finally begun to ease the ache whenever you would be reminded of Mina. You aren't sure it will ever go away, but Yeona has helped you start to trust someone other than Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook again. 

She has never judged you or acted tired of your habits, like a lot of people do. Never questioned your desire to have dance parties and bake cookies to eat while watching cartoons and dramas on the TV with your stuffies. 

Not to mention how helpful she has been with the wedding planning. Part of you wonders if Yeona might actually convince Tae to open a wedding planning business of their own. 

They probably will. 

No wonder Taehyung fell in love with her, she really is the kindest person you've ever met.

You take Yeona's hand when she reaches out for you, "Jungkook is going to cry," she assures you, making you laugh. 

"He b-better," you joke, triggering a laugh from your best friend who has finally gotten himself together.

"If he doesn't, I'll kick his ass," he promises. 

You and Yeona giggle at his joking before you look back in the mirror and nod, "This is d-d-definitely the one."

________________________________

A knock on your door makes you look up from where you were setting Pumpkin in her new castle-shaped bed. 

You walk over to the door and look through the peephole, a huge smile breaking out on your face. 

"Who is it? ~" you singsong playfully before looking through the peephole again to see your fiancé smiling. 

"Food delivery!" He calls out. 

You unlock the door and throw it open, "Really??"

He shakes his head, "Nope, just me."

You fake a pout, "I'm hungry though."

Jungkook frowns, "You'd rather have food than me?"

You nod seriously, not breaking character until he comes in and wraps you in his arms, lifting you into the air and making you squeal, "Too bad, you can't trade me."

A smile finds its way to his face when you start to laugh, the sound like music to his ears. 

He walks in and kicks the door shut before walking over to your couch. 

The whole set up of your apartment looks similar to your old one in Seoul since you have all the same furniture. This one is just a bit bigger than the previous apartment, with two bedrooms and a longer hallway. 

You moved to Busan in August of last year to start the school year at your new job and to be closer to Jungkook. The kindergarten in the small town doesn't have many students, but they were in desperate need of a teacher, perfect timing for you. 

Jimin ended up moving shortly after you, not needing to stay anywhere in particular because he can cover news stories wherever he is. He now happens to be your next-door neighbor. 

Jungkook carries you to the couch where he plops himself down, keeping you on his lap. 

"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips when you lean down and kiss him. 

You smile softly, "M-missed you t-too, Kook."

"Really?" He asks, big brown eyes shining like always, "You sure you didn't have too much fun without me?"

After giving his nose a quick peck, you shake your head, "Never."

You feel his hands caress your lower back gently before he pulls you closer, "Did you find a dress?"

Nodding, your eyes sparkle with excitement, and he chuckles. 

"I want to see you in it."

"You w-will~" You tease, "Just n-not yet."

You absentmindedly mess with the tattoos on his arms, running your fingers along the beautiful art as he watches you lovingly, his eyes landing on the pretty ring adorning your finger, the one his mother loved so much. 

Blinking back his tears, he focuses on your face again. 

"I l-like your t-tattoos," you mumble, attention solely on the dandelion etched into his skin. 

Jungkook chuckles, "You say that every time you see them, sweetpea."

"I do?"

"Mhm," he mumbles, reaching a hand up to move a piece of hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear, "I don't mind though."

"They're j-just so pretty," you whisper. 

He smiles softly, then he looks around while you entertain yourself by outlining his body art. 

The sight of his own artwork hanging around your apartment makes his heart melt. You've always been his number one fan and supporter, not to mention his muse. He wouldn't be where he is now without you. 

"Someday soon th-they will b-be worth millions," You whisper when you see him scanning the walls, "And n-no one can have the-them. I'm the o-only girl in the w-world with your original w-work, everyone else has c-copies," You snicker, making him laugh. 

After the art show last year, he began getting many offers and requests for his work, everything went so much quicker than he had hoped. 

None of it really mattered to him then, the only thing he cared about was you. You had remembered him that day, he’s never wanted anything more. 

"You're the only girl in the world that has the original artist himself," He whispers smugly, making goosebumps cover your skin when he nuzzles his nose just under your ear, “I can make you whatever you want.” 

"I c-can't believe how lucky I am, en-engaged to my f-favorite artist," You laugh, pulling back and bopping his nose with your finger. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm the lucky one."

He stares into your eyes, getting lost in them as he moves closer, "I can't wait to marry you," he mutters as he pulls you against him, leading your lips right to his. You let him deepen the kiss, your hands finding their place on his shoulders as he pulls you even closer.

Pulling away for a breath after a minute, you catch his eye, “Was T-Tae mad he couldn’t come? I feel b-bad.”

A half smile spreads on Jungkook’s face, “He was disappointed at first, yeah, but halmeoni and I got him distracted with other wedding stuff.”

You cup his face with your hands, “Thank y-you, for ev-everything you’ve d-done planning this.”

He smiles, “Thank you for marrying me.”

You laugh at that, “W-Why wouldn’t I marry y-you?! You’re being s-silly.”

Jungkook leans forward and pecks your lips before leaning into the back of the couch with a tired groan, jostling you on his lap as he stretches. 

You lay down on his chest, cupping your hands under your chest as you listen to his heartbeat. A moment later, you feel his hand running through your hair. 

“W-we’re living here, r-right?”

“Hm?” Jungkook opens his eyes and glances down at you to see you looking up at him with huge eyes. 

“After w-we get married, y-you’re coming to l-live with me, right?” You ask again. 

“Is this where you want to live?” He asks softly. 

You nod, “Yes, p-please.”

Jungkook touches your cheek gently, stroking it with his thumb, “I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together. If this is where you’re most comfortable, then this is where we’ll live.”

You smile and sit up, accidentally jabbing into his arm and thigh with your bony elbows. 

“Ouch,” he says flatly but you ignore him, instead choosing to bounce up and down even more.

“And then T-Tae can have the apartment y-you share to himself and m-m-maybe Yeona will move in wi-with him!”

Jungkook nods along with a smile, content just watching you ramble on about how he can decorate however he wants and how it doesn’t have to be pink if he doesn’t want it to be, but how you’ll have to compromise with the bed, because he can pick out the comforter and pillows and everything else, but your stuffies will always live on the bed and he’ll need to deal with that. At least until bedtime of course, then they can move to make room. 

Maybe you’ll need a bigger bed?

You’ll definitely need a bigger bed. 

Does he want to change the curtains?

He can change those, but the drawings from your ducklings really like the vanity and bedside table, so can they please stay there? 

You’ll need another bedside table for his side of course.

Oh, and there are baskets that can hold things like shampoo, because it might be a bit crowded, so you can sort things out like that, and it can still look pretty. And of course, he needs to use the extra bedroom for his art. You won’t budge on that one, insisting he needs an entire room to keep all of his work in. 

Can you come in and visit him while he paints?

Maybe he can teach you how to paint sometime.

It’ll be so much fun to go shopping together, you’ll try to cook him anything he wants if he can help teach you how to do it. 

His hands rest on your lower back, keeping you steady as you wiggle around in excitement, not noticing the way he looks at you as you blab on and on breathlessly. 

Jungkook could listen to you talking about your life together for the rest of eternity and never get bored.

Fuck, I love you so much.

He tilts his head as he watches you, all of his anxiety about the wedding planning melting away as he thinks about how lucky he is to be here with the person he loves the most, planning out your future together.

________________________________

a/n: i warned you that it was fluffy -_- simps -_-

Tag list; @hopekookies ​ @moonchild1​ @barbellastyles98 ​ @teresaisla ​​ @ggukkieland ​ @scuzmunkie ​​​ @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies ​​​ @moon-asia ​​ @bangtannie7​​​ @yoonchrisgull ​​​ @njkbangtan @dlwrlmajaykay ​​​ @higashikatasgf ​​​ @sweetonkookieandtae @voidswan-recs ​​​ @sadxaries ​​​ @shadowmoon21 ​​​ @jinfused ​​​ @taehyungiev13 ​​​ @gaeguuliii ​​ @kimnamjoonluvbot ​​ @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinn ​​​ @surilirani @patpus ​​​ @yukiehyukie ​​​ @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk​​​ @steffiiirose @the-falling-star ​​​ @telepathytae ​​ @erenkook-blog ​​​ @rosiekoo​​​ @neverthefirstchoice ​​​ @bubbless-world ​​​ @yeow6n ​​​ @purpleunicorn051 ​​​ @canarystwin ​​​@sopikooo @kookxin

[a-new-superhero]

Bang PD on Instagram, 13/09/2023

[dgtn]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Scott “Scooter” Braun (@scooterbraun)

Scooter Braun on Instagram: “ It is always fun to witness history. These are the moments. This is a BIG one.”

And Scooter Braun capitalized BIG. Just exactly what do the have in store for us. And of course the actual video has no sound so no sneak peek 😭😭😭.

I am so very excited to see what is in store for us! And Watt has produced music for Justin Beiber. And JK is a big fan of Beiber……Hmmmmm. Just saying….

Good things on their way!

[aricastmblr]

[seoul-bros]

JK in the recording studio

with Grammy winning producer Andrew Watt (lately working with Iggy Pop, Ozzy Osbourne and Eddy Vedder from Pearl Jam).

Hitman Bang Instagram

The company has BIG plans for Jungkook.

SB IG Story

Post Date: 10/04/2023

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 1) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

A Place Called Home by @agustdakasuga

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Accidental Friends by Erakun06

Meet Bangtan, international superstars, the pride of South Korea, the love and hope in the dark of many lives, the role model and celebrity crush of so many people, and a group of people you often stumble across in your day to day life. You become acquaintances, slowly become friends, and- that's it. You are in a platonic friendship with Bangtan. Let me say it again. clears throat PLATONIC. Or One day, you meet a member of Bangtan, the next day, another, and another, and another, and one day, they become a group of people you often stumble across in your life. They become your acquaintances. Then your friends. Then your source of comfort, just like they are the source of comfort of millions of people in the world. What you didn't expect is that you become the same to them. It's inevitable. You are friends.

🗯️ a theme that I don't find much of, and this one was excecuted quite neatly I'd say

Ace For Hire by tokki-maknae

Who is Ace? Besides being the deadliest hitman on the market in the underground, whose really under the hood? The answers simple, well for you at least, because you are Ace. When you're not busy blurring yourself into the background noises of school, you were making a killing in the underground, both literally and figuratively. For years now Ace has become an infamous name among the other gangs and holds the reputation of being lethal and untouchable. But that all changes after a slip up that causes you to attract the unwanted attention of one persistent seven member gang. A gang that's been dying to know, who is Ace?

🗯️ badassss

At Your Service by @untaemedqueen

In which Yn is looking for an escort to accompany her to her nightmare ex and ex best friend's wedding, only to ended up falling in love with him.

Baby (you complete us) by @purpleyoonn

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Back Home by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

Secretly, he was selfishly hoping that you didn’t age well. Dealing with a small crush was easy enough when he was young and knew next to nothing about girls, when you were just a cute albeit slightly weird girl he had a soft spot for. But he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his feelings came back with a vengeance while you were living together. God, he would probably lock himself with Jungkook until you went away. OR The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

🗯️ crack fic! my fave category and this one makes me giggle in both funny way and butterfly-in-my-stomach kinda way

Beauty of Love by @imnotlauriane

When you cross eyes with your soulmate, you get flashes of memories that have yet to happen. You can't see the same memory as the other and it can be either good or bad. It's not always terrible, but a thing is for sure. No matter what you do, it will happen. But are things always what they seem to be?

Between The Bloodshed series by @agustdakasuga

🗯️ this series... I just love. plot is super neat, relationship doesn't feel forced, etc etc

❶ Between The Bloodshed

Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that you would have to leave your life behind and build a new one.

❷ Everything Between Us

They left you hanging, they broke your heart. You didn’t get your happily ever after. But now they’re back and they’re searching for you to make things right. Could you look past the betrayal to take them back into your life and back into your heart?

Beyond The Stage by Alysheart

Alexis was going through the days simply. She was a college student in Florida, working towards her degree. When she scored tickets to the BTS concert in Korea, she didn't hesitate. She never expected to be soulmates with the seven idols.

Bound by Blood by PurpleQueenie

In a world where vampires and humans have to co-exist, where the line between tolerance and animosity blurs, how can you ever expect to get your happily ever after when your soulmates hate your very existence?

🗯️ love all the details, the slow burn, gosh just so good

Boyfriend For Hire by @remedyx

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected.

Breakthrough by Alphathyx

"My dreams haunt me like past memories that never existed" The Memory Dive, an invention that allows the user to dive into anyone's memories just from the collection of their DNA. Made by Professor Kim Seokjin, he created this device for the worlds secret service to solve mysteries that the ordinary field agents are unable to. With seven agents, ranging from ex military, to a university professor, college student and even a criminal, only these seven are able to use this machine to extract memories of others. They are also the only people that know how to escape it. Discover through their eyes of uncovering the darkest truths of the world, through the minds of victims.

🗯️ this one's super neat plot with complicated and technical world, just so good

Bright Colors and Loud Soulmates by Mostmouse

You resented soulmates, the whole damn concept. It just wasn't your thing, and you couldn't help but feel jealous of those who were born without soulmates, who could see the world as it was intended to be from birth. When you run into your soulmate, you're determined to stay in your own sphere of the world. Focusing on you. But, because nothing is simple in your life, it turns out he's one of seven - better yet, your seven soulmates are the globally famous band BTS. Because why wouldn't they be? OR you learn how to let your soulmates past your carefully crafted walls, and they’re more than happy to show you what a loving and supportive relationship should look like.

🗯️ a funny and cute one! (with extra h0rny characters lol)

BTS Office CEO AU by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

You work for seven CEOs who have called you into their office due to a complaint

Can't Wait To See You Again by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

The one where Jungkook develops a huge crush on a Youtuber he found after falling into the rabbit hole of his recommended videos. Unbeknownst to him, you were also recommended to his hyungs. Unbeknownst to you, all across the world seven idols were slowly falling in love with you.

🗯️ I just love the concept of the boys being fanboys :3

Choco Bun by @nunchiimagines

When you moved to Korea after finishing college to continue pursuing latte art and baking, the last thing you were expecting was to open up your very own coffee shop under BTS Corp, Korea’s biggest entertainment service company for idols, models, singers, and more. Thanks to your hard work, creativity, and approachable personality you managed to become friendly with some pretty big named individuals as well as up and coming talent. As exciting and fun as it was for you, you slowly began to realize how much your 7 bosses weren’t particularly fond of this, acts of jealousy, pettiness, and aggression poking through in the most unsuspecting of ways. But what could 7 big named dragons want with a little foreign bunny?

Combined Beings by @numinousher

You are bullied on a constant because korea’s beauty standards do not fit girls on the heavier side. the bullying gets worse once a ceo is attracted to you and he mentioned you to the other 6.

🗯️ minus the bullying elements, this story is like a comforting sweet cloud

Comfort by http-lostforever

Hybrids have been introduced into society for a handful of years now, the fighting for their rights is still happening but doesn't look promising. But when one girl finds a hybrid in danger she jumps at the chance to help, yet what she didn't know was how upside down her life was about to become. But a word of advice, not everything is as it seems.

Could We Be Together Someday? series by BTS_Mommy / @babyboy-bangtan

🗯️ mann Idk what to write lol. this is another one that I've re-read thousand times, bcs some of the boys started as fanboys then became clingy friends. also yn's so supportive I just lovee.

❶ By Chance

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

❷ The Moments in Between

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you're not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

Crave by sweetinsanityy

The boys don't do well with being controlled, but for their group, they'll bite their tongue and put on a smile for management. Yet when you, a new little rookie, stumble upon them, they're like a pack of hungry wolves. Or, the boys are all Doms and they want you to be their perfect little sub.

Cursed Fate by PurpleQueenie

The universe has designed soulmates- someone that completes you. But what happens when you don't have one but seven? And all you want to do is run in the opposite direction when you see them...

🗯️ queenie's stories are just so good, you should check them all out! this one also has such great details and writing.

Deep Down by sleepingbearandbunny

Jae, unlike everyone else, has nothing against the hybrid species. She likes being alone, where she is safe from ridicule and her controlling father. When a group of hybrids save her from some trouble, fate brings them together once more.

🗯️ a harsh and complecated world this one, so they went through a lot together and I love that!

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION (1)☆・°🪐🤍📀°・☆

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　

♡touch me wherever | Innocent jk x Innocent reader | SMUT | @bangtangalicious 

♡The price of Love | Teaser | Yandere jk X Reader | @aajjks

♡campus affairs | Friend jk X Reader | @kooktrash

♡Tokyo Drift |Street Racer! Jungkook x CEO Daughter! Reader | secret relationship @miraclesatnightfall

♡warrior jk | warrior!jungkook x princess!reader | @jungkookschin

♡Hieros Gamos | God!Thanatos!Jungkook x Goddess!reader | @girl8890

♡Bedeviled | demon!jungkook x female reader | series | @writemywaytoyourheart

♡Streams & Sheets | gamer!jungkook x reader | established relationship | @astralmono

♡Alexithymia. | Demon!Jungkook x Reader | series | @minjoonalist

♡Perfect Love | tattoo parlor owner Jungkook! X florist and cafe owner! Reader | @i-am-baechu

♡Spring Day Still with You | hybrid!Jungkook x reader | @yoongsisbae

♡Anonymous ask | stepbrother!jungkook x reader | forbidden | @aris-ink

♡deep six: watch yourself | biker!jk x reader | secret relationship | @bratkook

♡Pi Gasu | vampire!jk X reader | series | @jungk0oksthighs

♡affluenza | jk X reader | richkids | series | @yoon2k

♡tutus & tiaras | husband!jk X pregnant!reader | series | @1kook

♡lovefool | bf!jk X reader | series | @citrustan

♡anti-fairy-tale | dilf!jk X reader | series | @citrustan

♡Aim For The Heart | hitman!jk X reader | series | @writemywaytoyourheart

♡Cruel Intentions |mafia!jk X reader | series | @explicit-tae

♡Caught in his Web: No way out | yan!spiderman!jungkook x reader | @aajjks

♡the other woman | yandere!jk X reader | @trivia-yandere

♡LOVE SHOT | yandere!jk X reader | series | @redsaurrce

♡REIGN OF TERROR | yandere!jk X reader | series | @thepinkproof

♡ Slave 19990319 | alien/prince! Jungkook x human! reader | series | @explicit-tae

♡Seneschal | vampire!jk X reader | series | @jikookiekosmos

♡DEMONS OF MY MIND | YandereDoctor/DemonSlayer!jungkook x fem!reader | @redsaurrce

♡Yours Insanely | yandere!jk X reader | @smileyoongle

♡hell is empty | drug lord!jungkook x reader | series | @aquagustd

♡love lies | yandere!jk X reader | series | @kooktrash

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　　　

OTHER POSTS:

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(1)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(2)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(3)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(4)

ALL BTS MEMBERS WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(1)

BTS X READER WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(2)

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 2...

°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°

Series :

Day by day || dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) | single dad au || @hansolmates

Summary : a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together

Aim for the heart || hitman!jk x female reader | hitman au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Bedeviled || demon!jungkook x female reader | demon au || @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it.  Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake.

Animal : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 || Boxer Jungkook x Reader | boxer au || @cutaepatootie

Summary : The girl looked at the man who was in his 60s , lying on the hospital bed fighting for his life, he was trying to talk with her “I don’t want to go without telling something.” The girl frown looking at the old man “What do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” “I don’t want to die without telling someone about her,” he says, his voice softening when he says ‘her’. “I don’t want to disappear without the world knowing about her and what she did for me.” “About her?” the girl frowns. Maybe his daughter? His sister? The man turns his head and faces the girl, a soft, distant smile plastered on his lips. The gesture is nostalgic, sad, almost loving. “Y/N,” he murmurs, the name rolling off his lips softly, just as softly as the waves of the sea roll over the sand. “Her name was Y/N.”

Into the woods || goblin jungkook x reader | goblin au || @junqkook

Summary : getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

The habits of the broken heart || Jungkook x reader | soulmate au || @softykooky

Summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Something in the heir || knight!jungkook x palace woman!reader | non-royalty palace au || @hisunshiine

Summary : The king of your empire will be leaving soon to head off to fight against Soiros, a foreign enemy, and his seven knights of the order of Bangtania will lead the way. One of the seven, Jeon Jungkook, with his dark eyes and easy smile, is someone you long for. Children believe he has slain dragons, and adults think he’s killed over one thousand Soirian soldiers. Everyone thinks he is a heartbreaker, making his way through every unwed wench in the land...but all he wants is you.

Miracle of the season || Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F! reader | angel au | soulmate au || @cybrsan

Summary : Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

Amortentia || Jungkook x reader | hogwarts au || @jungkxook

Summary : jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

Black magic   || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?

(Un)crushed    || human!jk x witch!reader (f) | magic uni! au || @hansolmates

Summary : you’ve liked jungkook for the longest time, but you believe it’s time to cut the cord—literally 

What's wrong?  || Jungkook x reader | slice of life!au || @oddinary4bts

Summary : Reader overhears Jungkook talk to his friends and mention how she’s always clinging on to him and doesn’t let him breathe sometimes and that she’s annoying because she’s too loud and energetic. When he comes back home she acts the complete opposite and tries to avoid him without letting him know what’s going on, until he realises that he actually prefers her clingy and loud🥺

High demand || Dealer! Jungkook x Reader || @bunnyhugs77

Summary : modern day Romeo and Juliet

Coin toss ||Jungkook x reader detective | agency au || @yoondoze

Summary : you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

[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. <3

[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 .

[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​ 

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | FINAL Chapter 35: Agapanthus

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst

WC: 20k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, amnesia, panic attacks, mentions of past betrayal, pining, heartbreak, mentions of unhealthy coping, lots of tears, ANGST, brief mention of blood, anxiety, lots of feels okay.

Here we go babies...

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous

One year and five months later...

"Are y-you guys ready for s-s-summer??"

The class of tiny humans erupts into cheers, melting your heart.

They gather their backpacks and form a line, laughing and talking with their classmates. Then you lead them out of the room and down the hall towards the front. 

Like always, you wave to each and every child until the last one is picked up, then you turn and head back inside to clean up your room and make sure you don't leave anything over the summer. 

After submitting the last of the paperwork, you hear your phone ringing. 

"Hello?"

"Heyyy, you ready to party??"

You laugh at Jimin's excitement, "M-More than ready!"

"Good, because I'm parked out front."

You giggle and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, "Coming!"

Then you hang up and head for the door, leaving it unlocked so the custodian can come in and clean while you're not here. 

You glance down the hall where Mr. Baek's classroom used to be. 

It's been so nice teaching without him breathing down your neck and insulting you every chance he gets. 

One of the other teachers told you that someone had called anonymously the summer before school started the year you were in the hospital and told them he was abusive to staff and quite possibly the children, so after they looked into it and got enough evidence, he was fired. 

They had been looking into it when you were in a coma, and months later when you were able to return, he wasn't there. 

Whoever it was, you'll be eternally grateful for them calling in. 

Stepping out of the front doors and feeling the sun beaming down on your face, you smile. 

This summer is going to be the best one yet, you can feel it. 

Last summer you still had to be extremely careful because of the coma you had come out of the Christmas before. 

This year you're going to do all the things you couldn't.

The honk of a car horn makes you squint in the direction of a red car and smile when you see Jimin leaning out of the front seat and waving, "Come on! We've got dramas to start binging!"

You run clumsily down the steps and to the car, opening the passenger door and climbing in. 

"Hi!"

"Hellooo," Jimin sings as he pulls into the street, "Did you have the best last day ever?"

"Mhm!" You jump up and down in your seat, "It w-was awesome."

"Glad to hear it!" 

You and Jimin talk about work for both of you today as he drives to your place. 

-

You keep blabbing on and on as you climb the steps and go into your apartment, the familiarity of it bringing you a wave of comfort. 

"Mmmmm," You plop down onto the couch and wiggle around excitedly, "I c-can't wait to sleep innnnnnn!"

Jimin laughs and sits next to you, "You can sleep in all you want after we have a good drama binge," he grabs the remote and turns on the TV. 

"Wait! L-let me get sn-snacks!" You jump up and run to the kitchen, but you stop abruptly and grab the counter to stop your momentum, "I also n-need to be comfy!"

You turn and scurry to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. 

A few minutes later, Jimin laughs when you run into the kitchen, a huge t-shirt going down to your knees the only thing you've got on. 

A moment after going to the kitchen, you hurry to the living room, taking tiny but quick steps as you clutch two tubs of ice cream under your arms and two huge spoons in your fists. 

Jimin reaches out for his ice cream, and you hand it to him before climbing onto the couch and curling up in a blanket, your legs quickly going out of sight. 

You dig into the ice cream, "Go ah-head," you say, staring at the TV. 

-

"P-Pumpkiiiiin," you whine, holding your arms out for the cat to come to you. 

The orange fluff ball quickly runs over to the couch you're lying on and hops up, curling into your bosom as you smile, petting her fur gently. 

"I l-love you, baby," you whisper, scratching under her chin, "You've g-gotten so big."

You're scrolling on your phone and petting Pumpkin when Jimin's face pops up on your screen as it rings. 

"H-Hello?" You answer right away. 

"Hey, ____."

You frown, "You s-s-sound upset, what's wrong?"

He sighs and gets right to the point, "I got a call from Mina today."

Your heart seizes up in your chest with a horrible pain. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you. But I knew you'd find out eventually and I knew it would be better coming from me."

You gulp, "W-what did she say?"

"Well, they were going to do a retrial for her case."

You say nothing, so he continues. 

"The lawyers wanted her to do it, but she refused. They told her they thought they could lessen her sentence if they had more proof that she was mentally unstable at the time."

When Jimin doesn't hear a response, he sighs sadly, "I'm so sorry, ____."

You clear your throat, "It's f-fine, I'm fine."

"Do you want me to come over?" He asks gently. 

You shake your head, even though he can't see you, "No, I k-kinda wanna be alone r-right now."

"Alright, will you let me know if you need me?"

"Mhm."

You say goodbye and hang up, then you look at Pumpkin who is staring at you with huge curious green eyes. 

You try to smile back at her but end up dropping your head into your hands so that she doesn't see you cry. 

She seems to sense it anyway, because she nudges you with her head until she's able to climb into your lap and start nuzzling at your chin. 

"Thank y-you, Pumpkin," you cry softly, grabbing her into a hug and holding her against your chest, "I l-love you," you whisper. 

After crying quietly for a few minutes, you thought you'd be alright, but your chest is starting to hurt really bad. 

You set the cat down and put a hand to your chest, trying to breathe in and out slowly. 

The panic attack is already setting in though, making itself at home. 

A short sob escapes your lips as you force yourself to keep breathing slowly. 

Suddenly, the room feels almost like it's caving in, the walls creeping closer and closer as your breath escapes you. 

Before it can get any worse, you jump up from the couch and try to run to your room. 

But you had left your bag near the end of the couch, and your foot caught on it in your blind panic, sending you tumbling to the floor. 

You keep grabbing at your chest, begging the air to go in so you can breathe. 

Knowing there's only one thing that will make it better, you start crawling towards your room, trying not to think about the walls of the hallway closing in on you faster and faster. 

Finally making it to the room, you crawl hurriedly over to your bedside table and grab your inhaler, taking a few puffs of it until you can get a shuddering breath in. 

Then you open the drawer on the table and reach your hand inside, feeling around for a moment before your eyes widen in horror. 

You stand up shakily and look in the drawer. 

It isn't there. 

Why isn't it there?

Where is it?

You pick up the tiny paper swan from the drawer and place it carefully on your nightstand even as you're panicking. You don't want to lose that too. A sob rips from your chest as you dig around in the drawer frantically, but still come up with nothing. 

You run over to your closet and start tearing through the clothes, looking through all of the pockets as you continue to cry your heart out. 

When you can't find it anywhere in there, you crumple to the floor and curl your knees in, sobbing hysterically. 

A knock on the front door goes unheard by you. 

You keep crying loudly until you see Jimin run into your room. 

"____! What happened?" He kneels next to you but doesn't touch you. 

"M-m-m-my p-p-p-ic-pic-"

He knows exactly what you're talking about. 

Before you can even get the words out, he's jumping up and running out of the room. A moment later he comes back in with a tiny piece of folded up paper, "Here it is, ____, here it is," he pushes it into your hand, "It was in your bag, ____. You put it in there earlier, remember?"

You clutch the paper to your chest, the sobs turning to small whimpers as you unfold it and look at the picture drawn there. 

"Oh," you say in a tiny voice, "I th-thought I l-l-lost it."

Jimin shakes his head, "You're never going to lose it, okay? It means a lot to you, and you always take care of it. You're never going to lose it."

You nod shakily, keeping your eyes on the pencil drawing. 

Jimin gulps and sits down on his bottom. 

It's quiet for a bit as the two of you just sit there. 

After a little bit, Jimin scoots closer, "May I see?" He asks kindly. 

You nod and tilt the picture towards him. 

He looks at the little sketch that always calms your anxiety; it's of a tiny dandelion surrounded by a field of bigger dandelions looming over it as the small flower appears to be trying to reach for the sun. 

He hums softly, "It's beautiful."

You nod and turn it over to show him the other side, a little black cat curled on a pillow. 

"Those drawings are really good," Jimin looks at you, "Where did you get this? I forgot."

You shrug, "I d-don't remember."

He nods sadly, looking at you for another minute in disappointment before he sighs and looks away. 

Sometimes he wishes he could just scream it all out loud until it all comes back to you. 

-

It takes a few days for you to get back to your old chipper self, but you eventually do. 

Jimin knows the whole Mina thing has been weighing you down for over a year. If he could, he wouldn't tell you anything about it. But you always ask him to fill you in and he doesn't want to lie to you. Besides, someone else will tell you if he doesn't.  

It was so much worse because you didn't remember anything about it. 

You woke up and asked him about where Mina was when she never came to visit you. 

He had to be the one to tell you that your best friend turned herself in for assisting in an attempted murder. 

Your murder. 

The last thing you remembered was Mina leaving on a business trip. Other than that, you had bits and pieces of memories of Jimin coming back and the two of you growing closer.

Nothing more.

You had no idea that she had wanted you dead. 

Jimin worked with you though, for a long time, making sure you got to your therapy appointments and that you would be able to sleep at night. 

It took the full year and a half since you woke up to get you where you are now, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make sure you don't go down that hole again. 

He's never seen someone as resilient as you, in all his years. 

"Hey, d-do you want to g-g-get ice cream?" You ask, looking over at him from behind your giant octopus stuffie. 

Jimin chuckles and nods, "Sure, are we taking the giant octopus?"

You make a face at him, "No, and h-his name is C-Cookie!"

"My bad, sorry Cookie."

You make the octopus wave one of its big tentacles at your best friend and respond in a silly voice, "It's ok-kay, I f-forgive you~"

Jimin laughs loudly, "Thanks, I appreciate that."

You set Cookie down on the bed and put the small blanket over him, patting his head gently before leaving with Jimin to go to your favorite ice cream stand. 

-

You're sitting in the grass, eating your ice cream as you watch a few birds fly by. 

"Hey, ____?"

You look at Jimin, "Hm?"

He swallows his bite of ice cream before continuing, "You're still into like...art shows and stuff, right?"

You nod, "Oh d-definitely!"

"Awesome."

You look at him curiously, "W-Why do you ask?"

"Oh no reason," he lies on the grass and closes his eyes after setting his ice cream down, "I may or may not have planned a day in Busan for us to go to one of your favorite artist's shows."

You put your ice cream down and crawl over to him, shaking him a little, "This isn't a j-joke, right? Th-this is real, right? Is it K-Kim Junsoo?"

Jimin keeps his eyes closed but he nods, a small smile on his face. 

Jumping up from the ground, you squeal in excitement, "No w-way!!! Jimin, I l-love you!!"

He laughs as he watches you spin around, not able to contain your joy, "Well, I certainly hope you do."

"Oh, w-when is it? When is it, J-Jimin?"

"It's this Friday."

"AHHHHHHHH!" You jump up and down, your sundress bouncing around as you do, "And w-we get to spend th-the whole day in B-Busan??"

He nods, a huge smile plastered on his face. 

"I n-never been to Busan!" You squeal in excitement. 

Jimin's smile falters for a moment, but he gathers himself before you see. 

____________________

The rest of the week flies by as you wait for Friday to finally come.

The night before, you beg Jimin to have a sleepover so you two can plan out tomorrow and talk about it. 

"Are you all packed?" Jimin asks with a smile as he sees you putting together your favorite bag with all your essentials for a full day outing. 

You nod in satisfaction, your hands on your hips as you look at the bag proudly. 

"I'm r-ready!"

"Do you have your little picture?" Jimin makes sure, and you nod. 

"Mhm! I put it in th-the pocket of the sk-skirt I'm wearing tomorrow."

"Alright, we'll double check before we leave tomorrow, sound good?"

You nod. 

Before bed, the two of you watch some of the drama you're in the middle of, then Jimin sleeps on the couch as you go into your room. 

The next morning is a flurry of excitement as you get dressed and brush your hair (after Jimin reminded you to.)

"H-How do I l-look?" You ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

Jimin sees that you're wearing a short black skirt and a huge yellow and white striped shirt with a cute strawberry near your heart. The shirt is so large it goes down far enough so that only a small bit of the skirt can be seen. 

"Cute!" He assures you, giving you a thumbs up, "Definitely artsy."

You giggle and thank him as you pull on your chunky sneakers, "You r-ready?"

"Indeed I am," Jimin hands you your bag when you stand up, "Double check your pocket?"

You put your hand in your pocket and pull out the sketch, then you give him a thumbs up and put it back. 

Jimin calls a taxi to take you to the train station, so that he doesn't have to worry about leaving his car in the lot all day. 

An hour later, you're sitting on the train, trying to keep yourself still because you're just so excited you can't handle it. 

Jimin ends up pulling out his booklet where he writes things down when he's working on an article, "Wanna play tic-tac-toe?"

-

When the train pulls into Busan, you and Jimin make your way around the station to the front where he waves to a taxi. 

"To the convention center please."

The taxi driver takes the two of you there, then promptly leaves. 

You run up to the doors of the convention center and you're about to go inside when Jimin calls to you, "____, wait."

Stopping and looking to where Jimin points, you see a flyer on the door talking about the art show. 

But it says Sunday. 

"Darn it," Jimin mutters, "How could I have messed up the days this bad?"

You shake your head, "It's f-fine! I've done th-that so many times!"

Jimin smiles sadly, "Thanks, but what are we supposed to do now?"

You think for a moment, "Should w-we head home and c-come back?"

Jimin shakes his head, "We shouldn't waste a trip to Busan, we just got here."

He looks around and sighs, trying to think of what you guys might be able to do today to at least make it worthwhile before heading home and waiting for Sunday. 

"Do you," he scratches his neck, "Do you just want to spend the weekend here?"

You look at him in surprise and he shrugs, "I just don't think it's worth it to ride the train four times just because I messed up the dates. We might as well make it a weekend getaway, ya know? We can head back on Monday morning."

A smile spreads on your face and you nod, "That s-sounds like f-f-fun! We should!"

He sighs in relief, "Awesome, then let's see if we can find a hotel, shall we?"

-

The two of you agree that you'll have plenty of time to look around the city on Sunday before the art show, and both of you would rather spend most of the weekend in a more rural area. 

After a bit of digging, Jimin finds a small hotel that seems to be out of the way, tucked in a more secluded place. He decides to rent a car so that you won't have to rely on a taxi the whole time.

When you get there, Jimin books two rooms right next to each other and you're led upstairs by a kind old woman that shows you the rooms, then heads back downstairs. 

One look around the small room and you're already in love with it; it's so beautiful and homey, and there's a gorgeous view outside your window. You can't imagine why there aren't swarms of people wanting to stay here. Apparently, Jimin found a hidden gem. 

After familiarizing yourselves with the hotel, you and Jimin drive to a few local stores to get some clothes for the weekend. A good excuse to get more clothes since you didn't pack anything expecting to stay overnight. 

A few hours later, everything is nicely set up for your stay. 

But now you're starving. 

"I'm starving," Jimin moans, lying on your bed. 

You laugh as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your pocket, "M-Me too, you r-read my mind."

"Should we see what we can find to eat around here? There isn't much for miles."

You stand up, "I th-think we co-could find something delicious, let's g-go!"

Jimin was right. 

There isn't too much around here, which is probably why not many people come to that hotel, preferring to stay nearby places that they won't need to take a car to. 

But after driving for a little while in the car Jimin rented for the weekend, you see a small building up ahead, only a few cars parked at it. 

"Is th-that a restaurant?" You ask. 

Jimin squints at it, "I think so...? Should we check it out?"

You nod, dying of hunger and not wanting to take the chance of passing by somewhere that has food, "It m-might be another h-h-hidden gem, let's try it."

Jimin parks the car and gets out, you following closely behind him as he climbs the steps and opens the small creaky door. A bell clangs when he opens it.

When he steps inside, he sees small tables around the floor of a big room, cushions around each table. A few people are at different tables, talking and eating. He turns to you, "It's definitely a restaurant."

A very old woman hobbles around the corner at the sound of the bell above the door ringing. 

"Ohh, well hello there dears! Just two of you today?"

Jimin nods, "Yes, please."

You follow him as he follows her to a smaller table in a corner of the room, clearly meant for only two people. 

You thank her and take a seat on a cushion, Jimin sitting on the cushion across the table from you. 

"I'll be back with some water," she says kindly before walking away. 

You glance around the room at the people eating and chatting, "It's so c-cozy in here," you say quietly to your best friend, who nods, "I agree, and the food smells freaking heavenly."

Nodding in agreement, you try to sneak a peek at what the table closest to you is eating. 

"I w-want what they have," you whisper, trying not to laugh. 

Jimin glances over, "I'm up to try anything, that looks phenomenal. I think we might've actually stumbled upon a hidden gem for the second time today!"

You clap your hands quietly, "S-See? If you hadn't m-mixed up the dates, w-we never would've gotten to come here! Everything h-h-happens for a reason!"

The old woman comes back with two glasses and a pitcher of water, setting it on the table, "There you are, de-"

You and Jimin look at her in surprise when she stops mid-sentence and just stares at you. 

"A-Are you alright?" You ask gently, and she seems to snap out of it as she nods. 

"Yes, sorry..." She looks at Jimin, then back at you, "What can I get for you?"

-

A few more people come into the restaurant while you wait patiently for your order and you busy yourself with people watching, you and Jimin being nosy as ever. 

A young man with bleach blonde hair comes out of the kitchen with a few plates of food and brings it to a table where the people all thank him heartily. 

"Thank you, Beomgyu!" One of the younger girls calls, making the young man blush. 

You turn and giggle with Jimin about how she must have a crush on him, then someone is setting a few dishes on your table. 

You look up to see a girl with long light brown hair smiling as she gives you the food. 

"Oh, thank you!" Jimin helps make sure the water is moved so there's room for the plates to go. 

"My pleasure, is there anything else I can get for you two while I'm here?"

You both shake your heads, "No, th-thank you!"

She bows, "Oh, and there's one more side dish that will be out in just a minute."

-

"I need you to bring this side dish to the small table in the corner," The waitress hands it to the young man that just finished drying his hands after washing what felt like hundreds of dishes. 

"Why me? Why not him?" He jerks his thumb towards the tall dark-haired man bent over several dishes as he tries his best to make them look pretty. 

"He's busy," she laughs, "And I have more tables to attend, the rush is starting."

He sighs and shakes his head, "Fine."

Maneuvering around her, he makes his way out of the small kitchen as he grips the side dish, being sure not to run into Beomgyu or halmeoni as they make their rounds. 

He glances around the room before his eyes land on the small table in the corner. 

And the two people sitting there. 

Freezing in the middle of the room, he feels his heart shoot to his throat. 

You laugh at something Jimin said, your whole body reacting as you clap your hands and start coughing. 

Jimin shakes his head and scolds you about being careful not to choke. 

Before either of them can look up, he turns and bolts back to the kitchen. 

"Jungkook, why didn't you give them the side dish?" She sighs and takes it from him, "Here, I'll do it."

Taehyung looks up to see his best friend standing there, completely frozen in shock. 

"Hey, what's the matter?"

When he doesn't get an answer, he walks over and touches his shoulder, "Kook? You in there?"

Jungkook's whole body quivers slightly as he stares at the sink that has a few dishes in it. 

Then he turns and goes into the backroom. 

Taehyung frowns, then grabs the waitress gently when she comes back in, "Yeona, what happened?"

She shrugs, "I'm not sure, I just asked him to bring a table a side dish and he came back with it and looked all freaked out."

Tae's brows furrow, "What table was it?"

"The small one in the corner."

Taehyung nods, "Alright, keep working. I'll take care of this," he pats her gently on the hip before leaving the kitchen. 

When he steps into the eating area, he sees you immediately, sitting there and talking to Jimin with a huge smile. 

"Oh, fucking hell."

-

Tae barges into the backroom to see Jungkook curled up in the corner, his knees to his chest as he tries to breathe, his chest rising and falling sporadically.

"Jungkook."

"I- I think I'm h-hallucinating, hyung," Jungkook chokes out, his eyes brimming with tears, "I sw-swear I didn't dr-drink-"

Taehyung crouches next to him and puts a gentle hand on his knee, but the younger one still doesn't look at him. 

"I-" Jungkook chokes out a pained laugh, "I thought I saw her."

He presses a hand to his mouth to stop the sob that's threatening to come out, his eyes squeezing shut as a few tears fall. 

"Jungkook-"

"She was right there," Jungkook whispers hoarsely, "Sh-she was more vivid than she's ever been. I- I know I see her sometimes b-but not like that. Not that clear."

Tae nods, "I know."

Jungkook points a shaky finger towards the door, "Please go l-look at the small table in the c-corner, and tell me she isn't there."

Tae looks down. 

"I can't do that, Jungkook."

Jungkook covers his face with his hands, his entire body starting to shake more than it already was. 

"Don't- don't say that."

"Kook-"

He shakes his head, his dark hair swinging gently, "I don't want you to say anything."

"I know," Tae sighs, "Just let me figure out what's going on-"

"Nothing's going on," Jungkook snaps, "Nothing. It isn't her, both of us just didn't sleep last night. It's someone that looks like her, that's all. I have stuff to do."

The elder sighs when Jungkook stands up harshly and wipes his eyes before leaving the backroom. 

-

"This food is literally so good," Jimin moans, stuffing another bite into his mouth and pretending to cry. 

You nod, "M-My favorite is the- oh!"

The girl that called to Beomgyu earlier steps back in surprise when she sees what she did. 

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

You laugh and pick up the cup that she knocked over and onto your clothes, drenching you. 

"It's a-alright!" You assure her. 

She keeps apologizing but you shake your head and adamantly tell her not to worry about it. Then you tell Jimin you're going to look for a towel to clean up the mess so the servers don't need to worry about it. 

Moving through the tables, you make your way to where you saw the staff going in and out. 

The kind old woman steps out just as you're coming over, carrying a few plates of food. 

"Oh, how can I help you, sweetie? Is there something wrong with the food?"

You shake your head, "No, n-not at all! I was j-just hoping I could g-g-get a towel, I accidentally sp-spilled something."

She laughs gently and nods behind her, "You are more than welcome to go into the kitchen, one of my servers will help you."

You thank her as she continues into the eating area, then you walk over to the kitchen she gestured to. 

Walking around the corner, you run right smack into a hard chest and stumble back. 

"Oh! I'm s-so sorry!" You bow to the young man you just ran into. 

When a moment goes by and he doesn't answer, you look up slowly to see him staring at you, his eyes as big as saucers. 

You look down to see that he was holding a bowl of cold noodles, the broth now soaking his shirt as a result of your clumsiness.

"Oh m-my gosh," your hands fly to your mouth, "I'm so sorry, I- I- I didn't mean to-"

You grab a cloth that was hanging on a hook next to you and start trying to mop up the mess on his shirt. 

When it proves futile, you glance up to see him gulp, still frozen as he stares at your hands. 

"I-" you kneel down and start cleaning up the broth that fell on the floor, "I'm s-such a clutz, I'm sorry."

When you stand up again and see him still staring at you, you start getting fidgety. 

Why won't he stop staring at you?

It makes it worse that he's extremely handsome; his dark hair falling into one of his eyes, piercings going up both of his ears, and his huge dark eyes boring into yours. 

You clear your throat and look down, forcing yourself not to stare at the tattoos covering one of his arms, his sleeves pushed up to show they go up farther than his elbow. 

Then you notice the bracelets on his wrist and your brow furrows before he seems to snap out of it and puts his hand behind his back, hiding the bracelets before you get to look at them for too long. 

"I-..."

You take a step back, feeling terrible for ruining his clothes and the food he was bringing to a customer. 

Just then, another tall man comes from behind him. 

"JK-"

He stops when he sees you. 

You feel your bottom lip start to tremble, feeling like a burden now that you've disrupted their work so much after making a mess. 

The second young man grabs the shoulder of the one you bumped into and shoves him back into the kitchen, "Go clean yourself up," he says to him lowly before turning back to you. 

He smiles at you kindly and you feel tears prick in your eyes for some reason unknown to you. 

"Sorry about him, he's out of it today."

You shake your head, "It w-was my fault, I bumped i-into him..."

He takes a step closer, "It isn't your fault. Can I help you with something?"

Eyes falling to the floor, you mumble to him that you needed a towel to clean a mess you made. 

The kind young man tells you to go back to your table and he'll get one for you. 

A few minutes later, he comes over with a towel and makes quick work of cleaning the water up. 

Eyes locked on his wrist, you stare at the purple and blue bracelet there as he wipes up the mess. 

You see Jimin's jaw clench and eyes widen when he first sees him, then you see the waiter shake his head a little at your best friend before leaving. 

What the heck is going on?

Jimin urges you to finish eating and you do, but you can't help glancing in the direction of the kitchen every once in a while. 

You don't see either of the young men with dark hair again, only the old woman, the young woman, and the boy with the bleached hair. 

Jimin pays for the meal and ushers you towards the front, not letting you do or say anything else as you make your way out. 

But just before you walk out, you turn your head to see the waiter that wiped up your table going back to the kitchen after bringing out some food. 

He makes eye contact with you briefly, a sad smile on his face before he disappears around a corner. 

_________________________

Pulling into the dirt lot in front of the hotel, Jimin sighs as he parks the car. 

"Well, that place was delicious after all."

You stay quiet, staring out the front window. 

"What's wrong?" He asks after a minute. 

Coming out of your trance, you grab Jimin's wrist and bring it over to yours and hold them next to each other. 

The purple and blue bracelet on Jimin's wrist that matches yours is the same one that both of those workers wore. 

"W-Why did I m-make this with purple?" Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn't hear you, but he does. 

Jimin gulps, "I guess you just liked the color-"

You shake your head, "Your f-favorite color is bl-blue, mine is yellow. W-Why would I make our fr-friendship bracelet with purple and n-not yellow?" 

Your eyes move to the yellow and black bracelet on your wrist, your mind flashing back to the worker you bumped into. 

Did he have the same one?

That would be impossible, you made this yourself...

Why did you make this for yourself?

Confusion clouds your brain. 

No. 

The one that cleaned the water definitely had the same purple and blue bracelet on. You're not crazy.

"Those w-workers had the s-same bracelets as us...A-Are you sure I m-made these?" You ask softly. 

Jimin clears his throat and pulls his wrist back gently, "I'm not sure, ____. It was over a year ago when you gave it to me, maybe you picked them up somewhere."

You swallow thickly and nod, "You're pr-probably right."

You head inside, saying a quick hello to the old woman at the front desk before making your way to the rooms. 

"G-Goodnight, Jimin," you say before going into your room and shutting the door. 

Crawling into the bed, you don't even bother changing out of your clothes, you just pull the covers up to your chin and hold the sketch of the little dandelion up to look at before falling asleep.

________________________________________________

"Jungkook..."

Tae's elbows rest on his knees as he looks at his best friend's face. 

When he doesn't get a response, he whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't know anything more than you do. I was just as shocked to see her today."

Jungkook just keeps looking out the window, his face void of any emotions. 

It's a perfect mask for what's happening on the inside. 

But not perfect enough to fool his closest friend. 

"Talk to me, Jungkook-"

"I did everything I was told to," Jungkook seethes, "I left because I was told to, I stayed away because I was told to, I tried to live my life because I was told to. For her sake."

Tae swallows thickly when he sees Jungkook's eyes water. 

"Why does the universe hate me so fucking much?" Jungkook chokes out, "Why would it put her right in front of me when it knows I'd do anything to be with her?"

"I know it hurts-"

"You know?" Jungkook's gaze turns hard as he looks at Tae, "You know? You don't know anything."

"Kook-"

"No, you don't fucking get it, do you?"

Taehyung shuts his mouth before shaking his head slowly. 

"How do you think you know what it's like to see her again? To see her right in front of me, looking at me without a single ounce of recognition?" Jungkook's voice gets caught in his throat, "I tried everything I could to help with the pain since I left because I was told to move on for her sake, but nothing worked. Not a single fucking thing," He gestures out his tattooed arm and Tae knows exactly what he's talking about. 

The pain in his heart never ceased, no matter how much physical pain he put himself through to distract his mind and heart, "Because I don't want to fucking move on, I'm selfish and I want what I want. I want her. And then she's in front of me, and this time I'm not just seeing things. And all I can do is stand there like a fucking idiot because if I let my walls down, I wouldn't have been able to control myself."

The elder gulps and looks down. 

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Jungkook looks back out the window, "You've got Yeona, how could you possibly know enough to say sorry?"

Tae's jaw clenches and he stands up, "You're the one that told me to accept Yeona, that told me not to give up on something that I cared about."

Jungkook ignores him, staring at the grass blowing in the summer breeze. 

"She was my friend too," Tae says hoarsely, "And I know that doesn't mean fucking shit compared to what she was to you. I'm sorry I was careless with my words just now, okay? I have no fucking idea how much it hurts for you right now. I don't know how to help you."

Jungkook gulps, but still doesn't look at him. 

"Don't shut me out, okay? I only ever wanted the best for both of you."

The younger just blinks, not acknowledging that he heard him. 

"Jungkook-"

"Just leave me alone."

Tae bites his tongue before he can say anything else, then he leaves, the door shutting behind him. 

Jungkook finally looks away from the window, his hand slipping into the pocket of his lucky jacket and pulling out a torn and bloodied letter along with a few band-aids. 

The memory of you giving him the band-aids when he helped you clean your classroom the first time comes flooding into his brain. 

“I i-insist. I have p-plenty, and you n-never know when y-you’ll need a b-bandage.”

He gulps. 

The bleeding ache in his heart is going to need a hell of a lot more than a band-aid.

A few tears slip down his cheeks before he wipes them away and looks at the letter from you that Dae tore to pieces. 

He can only make out some of the words, but he read it so many times before the incident that it's burned into his brain anyway. 

"Fuck," Jungkook wipes at his eyes in frustration. 

It was a freak coincidence. 

He's never going to see you again after today. 

For your sake, he needs to pull himself together. 

For your sake he needs to bottle it up to make sure you live the life you always deserved, the reason he left anyway. 

For your sake. 

“P-Promise me, y-you won’t fall in love w-with me.”

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat as he messes with the bracelets on his wrist, whispering in his mind the words he promised to say every day, no matter what, the promise he refuses to break, to this day. 

I love you, ____.

__________________________________

The next day, you still can't get those questions out of your head. 

Jimin notices that you're distracted during breakfast and while the two of you go to the beach and look out at the water. 

"What's on your mind?" He finally asks, knowing it has something to do with yesterday. 

"I j-just want answers," you say quietly, staring at the sea. 

Jimin clears his throat, "Are you sure you didn't just buy them at a stand somewhere?"

You shake your head, "N-No, it's the bracelet design I m-made when I was l-little."

He wants to tell you, he wants to tell you everything. 

Honestly, he's been looking for those two ever since they disappeared from the hospital. 

He knows they meant the best and that you were already struggling. He knows that Jungkook didn't want to drag you back into the hell you escaped from after losing your memories. 

But he also knows that you're meant to be together, there's no denying that. 

Searching high and low for almost a year and a half and he always came up with nothing. And now the two of you run into them in Busan? Over a year later? Only because he happened to be lucky enough to get tickets because of a cancellation, and then to mix up the dates and come early and then stay at that specific hotel and eat at that specific restaurant?

No one will convince him it isn't meant to be. 

But right now, is the best plan of action telling you everything? Or is the best plan of action letting you fall in love with Jungkook again naturally?

Did Jungkook find someone else in all this time? 

Maybe he's not even interested in pursuing you, as unbelievable as that seems. 

But he needs to make sure. 

He can't just tell you that that worker was the one you were so hopelessly in love with, the one you wanted to be with forever, the one that put you above himself in everything. 

Because what if Jungkook doesn't feel the same anymore?

As your best friend, he can't put that story into your head just for it to be ripped away from you because he found someone else. 

He needs to be one hundred percent positive and make sure everyone else is on board. 

What good is a wingman if he lets the love of your life get away?

As your wingman, he needs answers. 

And those will only come from one place. 

"I j-just want to go b-back and make sure I'm not crazy," you pout. 

Jimin gulps, then he nods, "Okay, we should go back."

You look at him, eyes bright, "Really?"

"Of course, besides, the food was out of this world."

________________________________________

Yeona smiles at Jungkook as she hands him a few dishes that need to be cleaned, "Think you can handle more?"

He just nods and takes them, dunking them into the water and scrubbing furiously. 

She frowns and walks over to Tae, who is busy plating food. 

"I'm worried about him," she whispers. 

Taehyung finishes up the plates he was doing, sends them out with Beomgyu, then takes her elbow gently and leads her to the back. 

"Did something happen?" She asks, worry creasing her brow, "Please don't keep stuff from me, especially when it's about you two. You know he's like a little brother to me."

Tae bites his lip, "I know."

"So, what's going on?"

"The table you served the other day, the one with the girl and guy in the corner..."

She looks thoughtful, "Oh, the one with the sweet girl that had the cute stutter?"

He nods, looking away. 

"What about them?" Yeona asks softly, touching his arm. 

Taehyung sighs, then he leans against the closed door. 

"Do you remember when we first met?"

She laughs, "Of course, I wasn't sure if you'd return my bike that day."

Tae smiles sadly, "Do you remember why I needed that bike?"

She thinks for a moment, then she nods, "You said you needed it because a friend needed help, right?"

He nods, "Yeah. Well, that girl was the friend."

"Ah," She looks a little confused, "Then...if she was your friend, how come she acted like she didn't know anyone here?"

"Because she doesn't remember us," Tae whispers brokenly, "She lost her memories a little bit before Jungkook and I came back here."

Yeona looks deep in thought as she tries to understand. 

"Is she the one..."

Before she even needs to say it, he nods, "She's the one he's in love with."

Yeona puts a hand over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. 

"But she doesn't remember him at all?"

Taehyung shakes his head, "No."

Yeona turns away for a moment, wiping her eyes. 

"I feel terrible for trying to have him bring that side dish over," she whispers tearfully, "I can't believe he had to go through that."

"It wasn't your fault," he says gently, taking her arms and pulling her into a hug, "You didn't know."

"That doesn't make it any better," she sniffles, "Poor Kook...I can't imagine the pain he must be in right now."

Tae holds her against him, trying to gather his strength, "He's in more pain than I can ever explain."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you everything, just not today."

She looks up at him, "Does this have to do with you being an ex-hitman?"

He gulps and nods. 

Yeona stuffs her face back into his chest, "Ok, I'll wait for you to be ready."

________________________________

Jimin pulls up next to a small blue car sitting outside of the restaurant a little after one in the afternoon. 

"So, what are you planning on doing?" He asks curiously, looking over to see you fiddling with your fingers. 

"Oh," you wave your hand dismissively, "I'm j-just gonna look at th-their bracelets, maybe ask th-them where they got them fr-from."

Jimin nods, "Sounds like a solid plan. And I will enjoy the heavenly food."

You laugh, your nerves quieting down as he chuckles. 

You're not sure why you were so nervous anyway, you just want to know where they got them and if you had just forgotten about buying them from somewhere. It's probably just a silly coincidence and you made up the memory of having designed them when you were little. 

-

The little bell clangs above the door as Jimin steps in and holds it open for you. 

The same old woman from last night hobbles around the corner and smiles brightly at the two of you. 

"Well, what a nice surprise! It's always wonderful to see returning faces."

"We couldn't stop thinking about your food," Jimin tells her sweetly, "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat anywhere else and be satisfied."

She laughs delightedly and thanks him, making small talk with him as she leads you two to the same table as the night before. 

"Thank y-y-you," you smile at her and she smiles back, but there's an almost sad look in her eyes that confuses you. She covers it with a bigger smile and says she'll be back with water. 

Jimin looks around, taking in the simple decorations, "It's so homey, I can't get over it. We're gonna need to make trips to Busan more often just to come here."

You nod in agreement, but you're a little distracted thinking about why she looked at you like that. It almost looked as though she had found a puppy she lost years ago. 

It made your heart ache and you aren't sure why. 

"You okay?"

You snap out of it and look at Jimin before nodding, "Yeah, j-just didn't get m-much sleep last night."

"Ah, wanna take a nap after lunch?"

You're about to answer him when the boy from last night with bleach-blonde hair comes over with cups and a pitcher, "Good afternoon, here's some water for you folks."

Jimin thanks him as he gives him a cup, then turns to hand one to you. 

He freezes for a moment, his eyes widening for a split second before he seems to come to his senses and hands you the cup. 

You thank him and he bows before leaving. 

"J-Jimin."

"Hm?" Your best friend looks at you from over his cup of water that he's currently gulping. 

"Do th-they seem like they're a-a-acting weird to you?"

He sets the cup down and sighs in satisfaction before shaking his head as he wipes his lips, "No, why?"

"Oh...m-maybe I'm more t-tired than I thought."

Jimin watches you carefully for a moment, then the old woman comes back over to take your order. 

A few tables have people eating at them, but not as many as last night. It must be a quiet time for business around this hour. 

Both of you are fidgety, but neither of you notice the other one glancing around nervously. 

"Um, I think I need to use the restroom," Jimin says, standing up, "Too much water," he laughs a bit awkwardly. 

You just nod, "...o-okay."

The dark-blonde stands there for a moment, then he bites his lip and moves away to look for the restroom.

-

Turning the corner where it has a sign for the restroom, Jimin glances back to see you looking at your phone. 

The oversized floppy brown turtleneck you're in is practically swallowing you whole, the short black jumper dress over top of it bringing the outfit together perfectly. He smiles, knowing you would be delighted to hear how cute the outfit turned out, since you weren't so sure this morning. 

He makes a mental note to tell you after he's done with what he needs to do. 

Turning to look for the way to the kitchen, he bumps into someone. 

"Oh, pardon me."

The girl smiles at him kindly, "Can I help you with something?"

He nods, "Yes, actually. Is Taehyung working today?"

She seems a little surprised that he seems to know one of the workers, but she recovers quickly and nods, "Yes he is- wait a minute.. oh, you were here last night!"

He nods, "Yeah, my friend and I came back to try more dishes."

"Oh, wonderful!"

Jimin scratches his neck, "Um, would I be able to speak with him?"

"Tae?"

"Mhm."

"I'll go and see if he's got a minute, I'll be right back."

"Thank you."

______________________

You thank Beomgyu when he brings over the food, noting that he's acting normal this time around. 

Maybe you really did just imagine things earlier. 

You look around for Jimin, wondering why it's taking him so long in the bathroom. 

-

"Jimin?"

The blonde turns to see Taehyung walking over, a look of concern on his face. 

"Hi, Tae."

"Hey," Taehyung swallows the lump in his throat, "What's going on? I didn't think we'd see you guys again after last night."

Jimin purses his lips, "We're staying in Busan for the weekend. I had no idea you guys worked here."

"You couldn't have known," Tae says softly, "I guess the world works in mysterious ways."

"You can say that again," Jimin sighs, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly, don't sugarcoat a single thing. Do you understand?"

Taehyung nods, a serious look on his face. 

"I've been looking for you two since you left."

He sees the younger gulp at that but doesn't say anything. 

"I know you meant to stay hidden, and I understand. I have no doubt that you only did what you knew was best at the time. But now that we've all run into each other again, I need to know..."

Jimin bites his lip nervously as Tae watches him carefully. 

"Is Jungkook seeing someone else?"

Taehyung immediately shakes his head, "No."

"Has he seen anyone else?"

Another head shake, "Not a single soul."

"Nothing? No one? He hasn't even considered seeing another girl?"

Tae looks behind him, then he moves closer so that only Jimin can hear him, "I know it's been a long time. But Jungkook hasn't even so much as glanced at another girl. To distract himself he just started working out a lot and getting tattoos and shit to feel the adrenaline."

Jimin frowns. 

"Yeah, I know it wasn't the best coping mechanism. They look radical as fuck though, you should see them."

Jimin is about to say something when Tae cuts him off, "Every single tattoo he has is meaningful to him."

"Oh, I'm sure they are," Jimin assures him, "I wasn't judging-"

"I didn't think you were, I just meant," Tae moves closer and whispers, "The kid tattooed his body with reminders of her. You don't have to worry about him seeing anyone else."

Jimin gives him a smile, "Sounds like a simp."

"He's always been a simp for her," Tae pretends to gag. 

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Jimin asks after they compose themselves. 

"I don't know," Tae leans against the wall, "I was up all night thinking about it. Now that I know you two are staying at least for a few days, it makes things easier...I think."

-

Jimin has been gone for at least fifteen or twenty minutes and the food is getting cold. 

You sigh and stand up, moving around the tables and walking over to where a sign points to the restroom. After walking around the corner and seeing the bathroom door open and the light off, you frown. 

What the heck?

Where did he go?

You walk further down the hall and end up at a back door made of glass. Outside, there are a few big trash cans and some pieces of scrap metal. 

Right before you turn around to head back, you see a flash of black out by the dumpsters. You stop and look out again to see the young man from last night. 

The one you spilt cold broth all over. 

There’s a black cat with a red collar circling his feet, its tail brushing against his legs.

Your cheeks burn a little as you watch him throw a few trash bags into the dumpster, his sleeve tattoo on full display. Even from here you can see a few bracelets adorning the wrist of the tattooed arm. 

Aha. 

You knew you weren't just seeing things. 

But you'll need to get a better look to confirm they're the same as yours. 

You're about to make yourself walk back and look for Jimin when you see him pull down the top of his unbuttoned button-down shirt so that only his shoulders are visible. He runs his hands through his hair and fans himself with his hands as he looks at the sky, facing away from you.  

Gulping, you try not to stare at the tattoo on his left shoulder that's not hidden by the muscle shirt he's got on under the button-down. 

It's a lotus flower. 

Pretty...

clangclangclang!

"Ah!"

You trip over a piece of metal that was sitting on the steps after the door swings open suddenly. 

You hadn't realized you were leaning against it. 

Barely catching yourself before you faceplant, your arms swing in the air as you stumble. 

Looking up, you gulp when you see the young man staring at you, his eyes wide. The cat is gone, having took off like a bullet at the ruckus you made.

He's already pulled up his shirt and closed it, having done so when he heard someone coming. 

He didn't know it was you though. 

Jungkook feels his breath get caught in his throat when he sees you looking up at him through a mess of hair. 

Why does the universe hate him so fucking much?

You fix your hair clumsily and flash him one of your best smiles, hoping he doesn't yell at you for being out here. 

"S-Sorry, I was looking f-for my friend and got a b-bit lost."

He doesn't say anything.

Why did he have to have that one split second of hope, to think that you might have remembered him and come to find him?

Your look of complete and utter calmness and unrecognition stabs him in the heart.

The universe is so fucking cruel. 

"I hope I d-didn't break anything," You say as you turn to see the piece of metal lying on the ground, "I didn't s-see it there-"

"Are you hurt?"

You turn back to him, a smile finding its way to your face at the sound of his voice. 

Shaking your head, you look at him with those huge eyes he could never resist, "Nuh uh, I'm f-fine."

Thank goodness. 

He bites his lip as his fists clench. 

He needs Tae or someone, anyone, to come out here and save him before he fucks everything up. 

You fiddle with your fingers, looking down. 

"Fucking hell."

"Hm?"

Jungkook startles when you look up at him and he realizes he just cursed out loud. 

"Nothing, sorry."

You smile at him again and he swears to God his heart has never hurt more than this. 

He's been through hell and back countless times his entire life, but nothing has hurt like this, not even close. 

Why can't he just escape pain for once?

Taking a step closer, you frown when he takes a step back. 

"So-sorry," you mumble, stepping away again. 

Jungkook gulps, tears welling up in his eyes as he stares at you, silently begging you to just remember him. To please not freak out if he embraces you right now because he can't fucking control himself.

He lets out a shaky breath and turns away to start walking in a random direction. 

Anywhere that isn't near you. 

He can't do it. 

He can't control himself, and he is not about to touch you when you think of him as nothing more than a stranger. He'd never forgive himself if he scared you like that. 

So, he needs to get away. 

"W-Wait!"

Jungkook freezes, a huge lump forming in his throat that he's pretty sure is his actual heart leaving his body. 

Please, don't make this harder for me. 

"I d-don't mean to bother y-you, but I was w-wondering if I could ask y-y-you a question?"

Jungkook's jaw clenches as he mentally tells himself to keep fucking breathing. 

He finally turns around to face you again, but his eyes stay locked on the ground. 

For a split second, they land on your chunky white tennis shoes. 

They're still tied the way he did it, so you could slip them on and off, he'd swear those were the same knots he made so long ago-

"A-are you okay?" Your small voice reaches his ears, and he nods numbly after a minute. 

"What did you want to ask me?" His voice is hoarse, and you wonder for a brief moment if he needs a drink of water or something. 

"Um, it's a s-silly question, but c-could I see your bra-bracelets?"

You watch as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws on it gently. 

"Why?" He eventually asks. 

You gulp, not expecting him to question you. You thought maybe he'd just let you have a look and be done. 

"I just- I th-thought I remembered-"

His head shoots up and the look he gives you takes your breath away; the pain in his eyes making your heart hurt.

"You reme-" he cuts himself off when he sees the confused look on your face. 

Of course she didn't remember.

Idiot. 

Jungkook takes a step back, needing to be farther from you so he can think clearly. 

He's gotta get out of here before he does something stupid. 

All his instincts are screaming at him to hold you and never let you go again. 

But he can't. 

For your sake. 

"I- uh...j-just thought we m-might've gotten them at the s-same place," you whisper, very unsure of yourself now. 

Jungkook holds his arm out and you stare at it for a moment, stunned. 

Then you snap out of it and move closer, inspecting the three bracelets there. 

Hm.

You pull up the floppy sleeve of your sweater and hold up your wrist to place it next to his, not missing the beautiful ink decorating his arm and contrasting against your bare one.

His bracelets...

They aren't just similar to yours...

They're exactly the same. 

He has the yellow and black bracelet, the purple and blue bracelet, and even the silver bracelet with the exact same two charms as yours: the crescent moon and the angel wing.

You slowly look up and see him staring at you, his eyes a little shiny but his face emotionless. 

 A nervous laugh slips out of your mouth as your gaze falls back to your wrists, "They're th-the same."

It's quiet for a moment, then you hear him whisper, "I guess we have similar taste in jewelry."

You nod but continue staring at both of your wrists. 

Then your eye catches the image of two of your favorite flowers tattooed on his arm.

Dandelion and Agapanthus...

Wow, you must have the same taste in flowers too.

Not being able to control yourself, you let your gaze wander over more of the tattoos and see a few words just below the inside of his elbow. 

Live for what you love.

Your eyes slowly trace up his arm and to his dark ones that still bore into you. 

It feels like he's reading your very soul. 

"Who a-are you?" You whisper, not even aware of the words coming out of your mouth until there's no taking them back. 

He pulls his arm back and you see him gulp, eyes never leaving yours. 

"No one," his voice is barely above a whisper as it shakes slightly. 

"____?"

You and Jungkook flinch at the sound of someone calling your name. 

You turn and see Jimin standing on the little concrete steps, holding the door open and looking at you in surprise. 

The other waiter from last night is standing behind him, a soft smile on his face as he looks back and forth between you and the young man behind you. 

You turn and bow to the dark-haired stranger, "S-sorry for bothering y-you, I'll be go-going now."

He doesn't say anything as you hurry over to the steps and climb them clumsily, grabbing Jimin's hand when he reaches for you so you don't fall.

You smile and bow to the other worker and he gives you a tiny bow back, the gentle smile never leaving his face. 

Jimin leads you back down the hallway. You only turn once to see the tall man going through the back door. 

-

"What happened?" Tae asks gently as he approaches Jungkook, who is still standing in the same spot, looking a bit sickly. 

"She just came out of nowhere," Jungkook chokes out, his eyes finally leaving the ground and traveling up to his best friend's smile, "Why are you smiling?"

Taehyung sighs, "Why do you think I'm smiling, Kook? They're staying in Busan for the weekend, it's fate-"

"It's not fate," Jungkook snaps, fixing his sleeves and clearing his throat before walking around Tae, "Don't pull that bullshit on me."

"Hey, now wait a fucking second," Tae grabs Jungkook's arm, ready to start an argument. 

But Jungkook beats him to it; the bottle coming uncapped and the agony inside exploding. 

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?!" Jungkook shouts, his voice breaking, "For over a goddamn year you told me to move on! You told me to move on for her sake!! Now you're telling me it's all clear?!"

He gets up in Tae's face, "You suddenly decide it's okay for me to love her? Now that she shows up and still doesn't remember a single fucking thing about my existence?! When she looks at me and sees nothing but a blank slate? Now it's safe for me to love her?!" 

Taehyung closes his eyes, letting Jungkook scream at him all he wants. 

He deserves it.

"I hate you for making me leave! I hate you for telling me not to be selfish and move on so that she can move on and live her life!! I hate that I can't fucking hate your stupid ass because you did it so I wouldn't be arrested, and you were right!! Is that what you want to hear?! You were right!! I never deserved her-"

"I never said that-"

"YOU THOUGHT IT!!" Jungkook screams, tears building up in his eyes, "WE ALL FUCKING KNEW IT!!"

Tae feels tears well up in his own eyes as he opens them to look at his best friend.

He shakes his head, "I didn't, I've never thought that."

Jungkook's jaw clenches and he almost looks like he's about to hit Tae in the face. 

But the glass door opens and Yeona calls out to them before he can throw a punch. 

"What's going on??" She hurries down the steps and shoves her way between them, keeping them each at an arm's length away. She turns to Jungkook, "Kook, what on earth happened? Why are you crying?"

He steps back and wipes at his eyes, confused when he feels that they're wet. 

Didn't realize he was crying...

When he doesn't answer her, she looks at Tae, "What happened?" She asks fiercely, "And don't you dare say nothing, Kim Taehyung."

He sighs and looks over at Jungkook, who is shutting down. 

"The customers can hear you guys screaming out here," Yeona scolds, looking at them both, "Would you care to explain why?"

Tae's face pales, "Did they hear what was said?"

Yeona shakes her head, "No, thank goodness. Just a bunch of shouting. Now, tell me what happened or I'll make sure halmeoni scolds both of you." 

Taehyung glances at the youngest again before pinching the bridge of his nose, "____ came back here and spoke to him."

"Don't say her name," Jungkook growls. 

Yeona looks back and forth between them, "I'm guessing this is the girl," she says softly.

When neither of them says anything, she turns to Jungkook, "Did Tae push it too far? Did he say something insensitive?"

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, then he shakes his head. 

"Are you sure?" She presses gently. 

He knows she always scolds Tae for being mean and he's grateful that she keeps him in line, but he just wants this whole thing to be done. So he nods, "I'm sure."

Yeona glances at Tae suspiciously, who holds up both hands in defense. 

"I'm gonna step away, I expect no one to throw a punch."

She steps away, then she sighs when no one moves. 

"Thank you. Now, Tae you have dishes you need to prepare. Jungkook, would you like to take your break?"

He nods and walks away before she can say anything else. 

Yeona turns back to Tae, who looks after the youngest helplessly, "You need to let him calm down."

He nods dejectedly, "I know."

"Would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

Tae nods again, letting her take his hand and lead him inside. 

_________________________

"Why doesn't he want to try to get close to her again?" Yeona asks quietly as she and Tae make the food side by side. 

"It's not that he doesn't want to," Tae sighs, "It's that he's been convincing himself for almost a year and a half that she's better off without him. He won't admit it, but he's scared to drag her into his life again because he thinks she was happier before she met him."

Yeona frowns, "But they were in love, weren't they?"

He nods, "More than I've ever seen between two people. I don't know how to describe it...they never actually made it official because of all the bullshit happening. They didn't date like normal people do."

She just listens quietly as he tries his best to explain. 

"It was different, you could almost feel it. The way they looked at each other when the other wasn't looking. They always wanted nothing more than the other to be happy and safe. It was almost tangible when you walked into the room, but it was never awkward. I fucking hate couples, they're gross, but with these two; it was almost like the room was physically brighter when they were together..."

Yeona smiles softly as she gazes at him, "I've never heard love described that way from someone on the outside looking in."

Taehyung chuckles sadly, "I've never described it that way being the one on the outside looking in."

"If he loves her as much as he does, how is he able to keep himself from her?" Yeona asks as she pours seasonings into a big pot. 

"That's exactly it. He loves her so much that he lets himself hurt just to make sure she's happy, yet he still calls himself selfish," Tae plates up some food, "He really thinks she was happier before she met him."

Yeona stays silent as they finish up the last few orders in the small rush. 

_______________________

Jungkook looks up from his bed when he hears a knock on the door. 

"Come in," he says, knowing who it is already.

The door cracks open and he sees Yeona slip in. 

She frowns when she sees him sitting on his bed, his eyes rimmed with red. 

"Jungkook..."

He won't look at her, just stares at the wall. 

"Can I sit?"

He gives her a quick nod. 

She sits on the edge of his bed and joins him in staring at the wall. 

After a brief silence, she sighs. 

"You know you're like the little brother I never had, right?"

Jungkook nods but continues to stay silent. 

"Do you mind if we get deep for a minute?"

He hesitates, then he shrugs and mumbles, "I guess not."

"Alright," she turns to face him, "You were the one that made sure Tae and I could be together. He kept pushing me away again and again, until finally he let me in. And we both have you to thank for that."

Jungkook shakes his head, "You two are meant to be together, you would've ended up together anyway."

"And yet, how many years would we have wasted if his best friend didn't urge him to face me?"

He gulps, starting to understand her point. 

"Taehyung only briefly spoke about her to me all this time, and although I know a little more now, I still don't know everything."

She looks back at the wall he's staring at. 

"Would you tell me about her?"

"I- I don't know..." Jungkook whispers uncertainly, he's never even told Tae in detail all about what he sees in you, too scared to be vulnerable. 

Because look at where being vulnerable has gotten him. 

"Let's start easy, what's her favorite color?"

Jungkook feels a painful jab in his heart but he forces the word out anyway, "Yellow."

"Aw, cute...and what kind of stuff does she like to eat?"

"She loves sweet things... but there's a tteokbokki stand in Seoul that was always her favorite, and she would-" He cuts himself off when he realizes he's going off. 

"And she would what?"

"Never mind," Jungkook puts a hand to his head, "None of this matters anymore, it's not like it's useful to me."

Yeona frowns, "Why are you refusing to let her get close to you again?"

"Tae probably already told you, his big fucking mouth-"

"I want to hear it from you."

Jungkook sighs in irritation, she really is like an older sister, nagging at him all the time. 

"Because she's better off without me, okay?" He snaps.

"What makes you say that? Clearly she's taken an interest in you even though she doesn't remember-"

"Yeona. The first time I saw her, I was figuring out the best way to fucking kill her."

She looks at him in surprise. 

"She was my hit," Jungkook mumbles, "And she was the most innocent human I ever met."

She stays quiet, sensing that he's finally opening up as he gets this faraway look in his eye. 

"She always had this light in her eyes, no matter what happened. The light never dimmed, it was like she saw the world through the eyes of a kid. She saw beauty in the world that leaves us after we grow up, the magic that we all stop believing in."

He drops his head in his hands, "Then it was gone. There was no light left, nothing. I did that to her..."

"Jungkook-"

"I did, I took that light away from her. And now she has it back," his voice breaks, "And if she gets dragged into my life again, she'll lose it forever."

Yeona stays quiet.

"She was and is happier without knowing me."

"Why can't you let her decide that, though?" Yeona whispers, "Why do you get to make that decision for her? Why should Tae get what he wants and you need to suffer? Yes, things happened that hurt all of you guys, but it's over now, isn't it?"

Jungkook gnaws on his lip.

"You're done with the hits, no?"

He nods, "Yes."

"So you haven't done a single hit since the last guy...Dae?"

Jungkook's jaw clenches at the sound of his name, but nods to confirm her question. 

"And the hits were more or less the center of it all...am I wrong?"

He shakes his head a little. 

"So, everyone needs to keep healing, it's going to take a lot of time...but, if she loved you as much as I'm sensing she did; don't you think she'd like to heal with you instead of alone?"

Jungkook gulps, "I wish it was that simple. But if she doesn't remember me, how is that going to work? I'm not going to lie to her and pretend like we didn't meet until now if we get closer. Nothing good has ever come from lying to her. I'm not going to do that."

"Good, because that would be the worst idea ever."

"So, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

She shrugs, "Well for starters, let Tae back in. He's the one that knows you two better than I ever will. And he said something about her friend...Jimin? He said that Jimin wants to find a way to get you two back together."

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, "It's not going to happen unless we tell her everything. And I am not throwing her back into those memories, I'm not going to do that to her for my own selfishness, not when she's finally happy again."

He stands up and walks to the door, "I'm going to the shops, halmeoni told me we needed some things earlier."

The door shuts behind him harshly and she sighs, hoping that he will at least take her words into consideration.

_____________________________________

Jungkook grabs a few bushels of the vegetables halmeoni asked him to get, walking around the little stands where people are shouting different prices and what they have to offer. 

"Can I get five please?" He asks the little old man at the stand with cabbages. 

He pays the man, grabbing the bag and thanking him before moving on. 

At least halmeoni made him bring the cart this time. Usually, he insists he can carry everything, not wanting to lug around this silly thing. But there's definitely more to carry this time than usual. 

Jungkook walks over to the peach stand, glancing over them. 

The memory of you laughing and joking in his old apartment as the two of you make peach-filled mochi floods his brain. 

The peaches in front of him blur and he bites his lip harshly. 

Get it together, Jungkook. 

You don't get to be selfish anymore.

"What can I get for you, sweetie?"

He clears his throat and is about to answer, when another voice speaks up and he realizes the vendor wasn't even talking to him.

"C-Can I please get t-two?"

The sound of your stutter squeezes his heart painfully as he turns to the side to see you standing there, eyes wide as you look at the plump fruit. 

The lady at the stand nods and bags up two peaches, telling you the price as she hands them to you. 

"Thank y-you," you dig into your wallet and pull out some money to hand to her, then you frown when you realize you don't have enough.

"Um, o-one second," Rifling through your change purse, you bite your lip, then you hand the peaches back to her, "I d-don't have enough c-cash-"

You and the peach lady look to the side in surprise when someone holds out a few bills.

"Will this cover it? I'd like to get four myself please."

The lady nods and smiles, winking at you before taking the money in his outstretched hand and bagging up four peaches for him. 

"How is your halmeoni, Jungkook?" The old woman asks kindly. 

You just stare at him, shocked that you've run into him again for the second time today. 

Jungkook...

That's a beautiful name...

"She's doing alright, thank you," Jungkook says politely, but you can hear a slight strain in his voice. 

He bows and turns to move on. 

You can't help but follow him to the next stand, missing the way his body stiffens at the close proximity. 

"Your n-name is b-beautiful," you say, coming up to his side as he forces himself to look at the radishes. 

"Thank you," he mumbles. 

"D-Don't you want to know m-my name?" You ask. 

Your name has been etched into my brain for two years, ____. 

"Jungk-kook," You try it out when he doesn't answer, smiling brightly. 

His throat closes up and he needs to stop for a moment, his hand gripping the handle of the cart until his knuckles turn white.

How can someone saying his name physically hurt like this?

It isn't just someone, though. 

It's you. 

Suddenly he can't breathe. 

Jungkook grabs at his chest, his breath becoming shallow as his eyes water. 

"A-are you okay?"

Your voice is faint in the background as the world turns fuzzy. 

The next thing he knows, he's kneeling on the ground, clutching at his bleeding heart and gasping for air. 

"Hey, are y-you okay??"

When he feels you touch his arm gently, he flinches away, not letting himself see the hurt in your eyes. 

"Please stop," his voice breaks painfully as he stands up and grabs the cart, "I can't take it anymore- just stop."

You watch sadly as he leaves, pushing through people in a hurry to get away. 

________________________________

"____? What happened?"

"I- I ran into the b-boy from the restaurant," You whisper. 

Jimin's eyes widen, "Oh? Well, what did he say?"

"He t-told me to stop," You say sadly, "I d-didn't realize I'd made him unco-comfortable."

He frowns, knowing that Jungkook hadn't meant it in that way at all, but not sure how to tell you. 

"I got p-peaches though," you say with a tearful chuckle, holding up the bag. 

Jimin smiles softly, "I bet they're delicious."

You and Jimin grab a few more things before heading back to the hotel. 

Up in your room, you and Jimin eat some of the peaches as you talk. 

"So, what makes you so interested in him?" Jimin asks as he lays on your bed while you lounge in the comfy chair by your window, "Is it because he's hot?"

Your cheeks heat up instantly, "Jimin..."

"What?" He laughs, "Am I wrong? Those tats are pretty sexy-"

"S-stop!" You throw the pillow you were hugging at his head, making him laugh harder. 

"In all seriousness though," he says after he's finished chuckling, "Why him?"

"I d-don't know," You mumble, picking at a piece of thread on your jumper, "I just f-feel drawn to him for s-some reason...I guess...I d-don't know, it's silly-"

"It isn't silly," Jimin says gently, sitting up and looking at you, "Some souls are connected, I fully believe that."

"What d-do you mean by that?"

He swallows the lump in his throat, "I don't know, maybe you knew him in another life," he whispers, watching you closely. 

You look down sadly before shaking your head, "Or I'm j-just being a w-w-weirdo."

Jimin flops back onto the bed, deciding to change the subject, "Are you ready for the art show tomorrow?"

Your eyes light up and you nod, "Mhm! I c-can't believe I actually get to s-see Kim Junsoo's w-work in person!"

Jimin smiles, "I wonder if he'll be there..."

Jumping off the chair, you point at him, "D-don't put that idea in m-my head! I would d-die."

He laughs, "Well, it is his show. Hey, did you hear about how he's going to be showcasing some other artists' work?"

You shake your head, "I didn't, wh-who else's work is g-going to be there?"

"I'm not sure, there was an article I read about it last night that said he wanted to include a few unknown artists' work as well because he remembers the days when no one knew who he was. He said he wanted to give them the chance that he never got early on."

"That's s-so awesome," You flop down onto the bed next to him, "M-maybe we'll get some n-new artists to love!"

"That would be great," Jimin smiles at you. 

______________________________________

The next morning, Jimin knocks on your door and lets you know he's up and getting ready for the day and you call back to him that you're going to take a shower. 

You get in the shower and wash away all the sweat from last night. You're not sure why you were hot all night long, but it was a pretty icky feeling. 

"Ha," You sigh in satisfaction at the feeling of the water washing all the grime away. 

After your shower, you look through some of the clothes you bought on Friday. They had so many cute things that it was hard not to buy everything. 

Hmm, you want the outfit to be just right today...

Finally, you decide on the sheer white long-sleeved shirt that's sleeves are slightly puffed. Over that, you put on a pale pink dress with ruffles on the bottom of the skirt and ruffled two-inch sleeves; the rest of the dress is covered in strawberries and bunnies. Pulling on some white stockings, you look into the mirror and smile in satisfaction. 

Perfect. 

After pulling on your shoes, you meet Jimin in the hallway. 

"You look great!" He exclaims and you blush. 

"Thank you."

He nods, "Definitely the right choice. What do you want to do until the show starts? It isn't starting until five tonight."

You nod, "I w-was trying to think of th-things last night. Sh-should we just g-go and look around the city?"

Jimin nods, "Sounds good to me! Let's go."

The drive to the city isn't too awfully long. You and Jimin walk around and look at the shops, grab a bite to eat, and then keep walking. 

It really is beautiful here. 

-

"Where are you going so early? I thought the show didn't start until five."

Jungkook looks up from tying his shoes to see Tae leaning against the doorframe. 

"I just felt like getting out," Jungkook says quietly, "I'm too cooped up in here; it always feels stuffy when we're closed."

Taehyung nods, "I agree. Halmeoni said she and Beomgyu will be there. Yeona and I will meet you at the show later too, that's still the plan right?"

The younger nods as he finishes tying his shoes, "If that's what you guys are still wanting to do it's fine with me."

Tae sighs quietly, then steps in front of the door when Jungkook tries to leave. 

"Wait."

Jungkook looks at Tae, not a single emotion showing on his face, "What?"

"I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

"For what to happen?" Jungkook asks. 

"This, all of this. I just wanted to protect you, I didn't want you to hurt anymore. But, I fucked up and I'm sorry."

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, then he looks at Tae, his face softening, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, that's why I got so angry, because I knew deep down that it was me who did the hurting. You really only told me once to move on for her sake, I was the one that drilled it into myself for so long. And I know you only said that in a panic to try and help."

Tae purses his lips, not saying anything. He still feels responsible. 

"What were you supposed to do, Tae?" Jungkook asks quietly, "You were the one that saved me from being locked up the rest of my life. You didn't make her lose her memories. I guess fate just doesn't like me very much."

Taehyung gulps as Jungkook pats him on the shoulder, "At least I get to walk around outside, eat normal food, watch my best friend fall in love, feel the sun, and see that she's happy. Knowing she's doing well is what matters to me the most, even if seeing her is killing me. If it wasn't for you, I'd miss all of this. Thank you, I mean it."

Tae nods, a lump stuck in his throat as Jungkook moves past him to leave.

__________________________

It's a few hours until the show and you and Jimin are walking around the park. 

You climbed the jungle gym a few times and slid down the slide a lot, now you're trying to convince Jimin to play hide n' seek with you. 

"What if you wander off and get lost?" Jimin cries. 

"We h-have phones!" You guffaw, holding it up to prove your point. 

"Oh yeah..." Jimin thinks for a moment, then he nods, "You know what, ok. Let's do it. You hide first and I'll find you."

You take turns counting and hiding, laughing your heads off when you find each other. Then you tell him the boundaries for the game are bigger now because it's too easy. He agrees but only because you promise to call him if you make a wrong turn. 

He sits on the swings, covers his eyes and starts to count. 

"One...two...three..."

You take off for the trees that you've been eyeing for a while, trying to contain your giggles as you run as quickly as you can. 

There's a path through the trees that you run down, looking back to see Jimin still sitting on the swing. He's too far to hear though. 

You keep running down the path, turning your head every once in a while to make sure you can still see him. 

When your lungs are finally starting to burn, you glance back once more to see the Jimin speck moving. 

He's done counting already???

You squeal and turn back to the front to keep running, but you end up crashing into someone instead. 

Flying backwards from the impact, you land on your bottom with a grunt of pain. 

Looking up to apologize, you see Jungkook stumbling a bit before catching himself. 

"Oh."

He looks up at the sound of your voice. 

You see something flash across his face, but you can't tell what emotion it is. 

Jumping up from the ground, you grab his hand and pull him behind the big tree you were heading towards in the first place. 

Startled by your action, Jungkook doesn't even resist as you yank him with you, making him crouch and putting a finger up to your lips. 

"J-Jimin is looking for me," You whisper, eyes wide as you look at him, "Be q-quiet."

He nods, then his brows furrow before he leans closer to whisper, "Why don't you want him to find you?"

"It's a g-game," You giggle.

"Ah," He nibbles on his bottom lip, forcing himself not to focus on how fucked up the universe is for this. 

What are the fucking chances?

"W-what is that?"

Jungkook snaps back to the present and sees you pointing at his chest. He looks down to see that the chain with his mother's ring on it has come out from under his shirt. 

"Shit," He tucks it back in, "It's nothing."

"That n-nothing is beautiful," You whisper. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. 

Don't fucking cry, you fucking wuss.

"She m-must be spe-special to you," you say quietly, looking at him carefully. 

Jungkook opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze drifting over your face and for the first time since seeing you here, actually takes you in. 

He's not been letting himself look too closely, out of fear of fucking up. 

But he can't resist anymore, he just can't. 

He's too weak. 

And for the first time in forever, that doesn't bother him. 

"She is," He whispers. 

You smile at him, then you look around the tree trunk and put a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. 

Jimin has come farther onto the path, looking around carefully. 

Jungkook gulps as he just watches you, his heart breaking a little more every second, until it feels like a glass that's shattered to pieces. Too broken to be put together again. 

I love you...

_________

Jimin ends up finding you because you couldn't keep your giggles under control. 

But when you turn back to thank Jungkook for not exposing your hiding place, he's gone. 

You look around sadly, not seeing him anywhere. 

He was so quiet, he slipped away too quickly. 

Part of you thinks you might have hallucinated the whole encounter because Jimin didn't even see him. But then you see the leaves that Jungkook was crouching on all crunched up and you know he was actually here. 

Hm. 

___________________

Walking up to the convention center, you feel your heart starting to beat faster and faster. 

"I bet he's inside those doors-"

"Jimin, st-stop!" You cry, hands cupping your cheeks as the excitement starts to take hold, "You're n-not helping!"

"Sorry," He chuckles, "Just remember, he's a man in his sixties that makes beautiful art, just a human like you and me."

You give him a long side glance, "He m-might be a human, but he's n-n-not like you and me."

Jimin guffaws and grabs the door, opening it and holding it for you to walk through. 

"Fair enough."

You step inside and immediately see a bunch of people milling about, soft music playing over the speakers as people dressed in white and black uniforms walk around with trays carrying tall glasses of bubbling liquid.

You and Jimin stand there in shock for a second, your jaws on the floor as you take it all in. 

"Well," Jimin eventually gulps, "At least we aren't underdressed."

You nod numbly, still in awe of how beautiful it all is and you haven't even seen the art yet. 

"How d-do they know who b-b-bought tickets?" You ask, then a second later, a man dressed in a burgundy outfit that looks like the ones the servers are wearing waves to you. 

Oh, he'd been standing there at a small podium looking thingy the whole time, you just didn't see him. 

"Good evening," He says politely, "May I have your tickets please?"

Jimin takes them out of his pocket and hands them to the man that bows after putting them in a little booklet you can't see very well, "Have a splendid time."

"We will," You say, smiling brightly before grabbing Jimin's hand and pulling him into the crowd. 

A lot of people usually make you nervous, but the excitement is overpowering that right now. 

"How c-can there be so m-many people?" You turn around in a circle, looking at the fancy dresses and suits, happy that you went with this outfit. It isn't as glamorous as some of these dresses, but it's definitely you. 

Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling of the spacious hall. 

"Where d-do you think the art is?" You ask jumping up and down. 

"I saw a sign that said it would be on the second and third floors, but they aren't opening it to the guests until five."

"Ohhhh," you look around until you see a staircase leading up and next to it is an escalator, one side going up and one down. There are a few security guards standing at the bottom and top, no doubt making sure no one tries to get up there early. 

"This is way more than I expected," Jimin says in an almost dreamlike state as he looks around. 

You nod, "M-Me too."

"I wonder if they have food?" Jimin muses, trying to see around people.

You laugh, "I th-think they do! I s-saw someone with some ch-cheese."

"Cheese?! Ok, I need to find that food table."

You and Jimin walk around for a while, looking at a few pieces of art that aren't a part of the show everyone's here for, but they're beautiful just the same. 

While looking at the different decorations, you stumble upon the food tables. Fruits, cheeses, crackers, and other little finger foods galore. 

You and Jimin gather as much as you can on the tiny plates, then you go to a corner where you can eat in peace. 

A few judging looks are thrown your way as the two of you sit on the floor out of the way and eat. Neither of you really care though, it's not like you're in their walkway. 

After eating the snacks you got, Jimin throws away the plates and walks back to you, "It's still about fifteen minutes until they open the second and third floors to guests, and even then, it's just walking around when you want, we don't need to rush or anything. Are you good while I go to the restroom?"

You nod and he pats your shoulder before walking away. 

It didn't take him long, but when he comes out again, he runs into a few familiar faces from high school. 

A text buzzes your phone and you grab it, opening it to see a message from Jimin. 

Jimin: I got nabbed by some old friends. They literally won't stop talking, I'll be over there as soon as I can, sorry.

You laugh and text him not to worry because you're fine and that you're just gonna walk around the hall and look at the art you didn't see yet. 

As you're walking around, trying not to get into people's way, you see everyone start moving in a certain direction. 

Looking at your phone, you realize it's five o'clock. 

bzzzzzt. 

Jimin: Hey, where should I meet you? They opened the upstairs and I finally got away. 

You reply quickly, telling him to meet you at the top of the escalators. 

A few minutes later, you're met with Jimin's smiling face as he waves at you, "There you are!"

-

Walking around the art gallery of one of your favorite artists is so surreal; it almost feels like you're walking on clouds as you look at all the gorgeous pieces he created throughout his life. 

After a while, you and Jimin decide to play a game and split up. You each have to find a piece of art on the second floor and the third floor that you think best describes the other person on the outside and on the inside. 

You find one on the second floor almost immediately after leaving Jimin. 

It's a giant painting of the seashore, so realistic you feel almost as though you can smell the ocean breeze and feel the water spraying your face gently. 

There's just something about it that reminds you of him. 

You make a mental note of where it is so you can bring Jimin back to it and show him, then you make your way around, glancing briefly and knowing that you can come back with Jimin and look at the art closer. 

Deciding to go to the third floor, you pass Jimin on the escalators, trying not to laugh as he makes a silly face at you. 

You see a lot more statues on this floor, inspecting them carefully and trying to see if any of them give you Jimin vibes. 

Nothing yet. 

You turn a corner and see a line of gorgeous paintings, your mouth dropping open as you walk in and see an older man looking at one of the paintings. He's the only other person in the room.

Keeping a distance so he doesn't feel uncomfortable, you look at the painting he's in front of. It's one of your favorites, always has been. 

The painting is of a bathtub, bubbles forming at the top of the water and covering most of the body of the woman inside, her hands pressed to her face and her hair in a knotty bun on the top of her head. 

The white tub is lined with gold, and if you look close enough, the woman has a streak of gold leaving her eye from behind her hands, the shiny tear going all the way to her chin. 

You always wondered if she was crying tears of joy or sadness. Nothing else in the picture gives you the answer, leaving you to figure it out yourself. 

"This one was always my favorite," The old man whispers, startling you. 

A smile spreads on your face after the initial surprise and you turn to him, "Really? M-Me too!"

You see a smile of his own light up his face before he turns to look at you. 

He looks kind of familiar...you probably saw him around the city earlier.

"What's your favorite part about this one?" He asks. 

"Mm, it's g-g-gorgeous, but I th-think my favorite part is th-that I can relate to it no m-matter what I'm feeling."

"How so?"

"I c-could never figure out if sh-she was crying because she w-was happy or sad..." You muse, looking at the image closely, "When I'm s-sad or happy, I f-feel like this p-picture is relatable and I c-can connect with h-her. I feel n-not so alone," You whisper.

He nods and looks back at the painting, his eyes a little watery before he blinks rapidly.

"Do you like to paint?"

You nod, "W-When I can, b-b-but I mostly draw because I always have c-colored pencils."

His smile grows a little more, "What kind of stuff do you like to draw?"

You hold up a finger and then reach into your bag, pulling out a few pieces of paper and handing them to him proudly, "I l-l-like to draw cute things m-mostly, just things I l-love."

He takes the pictures and looks at them, seeing childish drawings of bunnies, flowers, and candy. 

"These are beautiful," He says genuinely with a kind smile, "I can see the love you have for these things through your work."

Feeling a bit choked up at his words, you thank him quietly as he hands you the drawings back. 

"Don't ever give up on the things you love, okay?"

You nod, keeping the pictures pressed to your chest. 

"It appears as though I'm being summoned. I hope you enjoy the rest of the gallery," he says before bowing and walking over to a group of important looking people that waved to him. 

That's when it hits you. 

You turn and hear one of the men call him 'Mr. Kim' and your heart stops in your chest. 

Oh my gosh...

Your legs suddenly turn to jelly and you stuff the pictures into your purse before all but running from the room, avoiding his eye as you hurry past him. 

Did you literally just meet one of your favorite artists of all time?

Just by chance?

You need to tell Jimin. 

Trying to find your way back to the escalators, you start getting anxious because of the amount of people coming your way. Suddenly everyone decided to come to the third floor apparently. 

You try your best to get through them, but it gets harder and harder and you can't see over them. 

Now you're getting panicky. 

A man that jostles you roughly is what breaks the last bit of control you had not to freak out. 

You push past people, not wanting to hurt anyone but needing to get out of this throng. 

When you finally get out of the most crowded part, you look around frantically for a sign to the restroom. Seeing one almost immediately, you make a B-line for it. 

Against your best efforts, tears start to stream down your face and your chest gets painfully tight. A few people give you weird looks, but you ignore them as you finally get to the third-floor restroom. 

Inside the door, there's a fancy lounge area and two more doors, one for men on the left and one for women on the right. 

Since there's no one in this area, you hurry over to a couch and sit down, sobbing into your hands for a minute before scrambling through your bag and pulling out the drawing. 

You take a deep breath and focus on the little dandelion. 

"Give me anything, everything you can. I can carry it."

Your brows furrow when the voice echoes through your mind. 

Not knowing why it made your heart ache so bad, you put a hand on your head as you try to figure out where this memory is suddenly coming from. 

Just then, you hear a door creak and you turn to see the men's bathroom door is open and a young man is stepping out. 

Jungkook...?

He freezes when he sees you, then you see a concerned look flit across his face and he walks over to you. 

"Hey," he says softly, "Can I sit?"

You nod as you wipe your tears, a bit embarrassed that he's seen you like this.

Jungkook sits next to you on the couch, a gentleness about him. 

"Are you okay?"

You nod, "J-Just a little o-overwhelmed."

"Ah," he nods in understanding, "It is pretty crazy out there."

You tuck the small picture into your pocket and sigh gently before turning to him, "You l-like art?"

He gulps and nods, a sad look in his eyes as he gazes at you, "I love art."

"Me t-too," you sniffle and wipe your nose. 

It's quiet for a minute, then Jungkook looks back at you, "How are you feeling?"

Just being next to you is killing him. 

But he can't run, not now. Not when you need someone to be here with you. 

Not when you need him. 

"I'm o-okay," Your voice is a little shaky as you turn to smile at him, "How a-are you?"

Jungkook chuckles lightly, "I'm doing fine, thank you."

God, how he wishes he could just pull you into his arms and never let you go. His heart feels like someone just impaled it with a million tiny thorns as he watches you wipe your nose with the back of your hand and then use your thumbs to wipe at your eyes.

He was supposed to be the one to dry your tears, he was supposed to be the one that was always there and making sure that the only tears that slid down your cheeks were ones of pure joy. 

How could everything have gotten so utterly fucked up?

How is he going to be able to let you leave him for the second time?

"W-where is she?"

Jungkook startles at the sound of your teary voice, then he notices you looking at something and looks down to see that he's holding his mother's ring between his fingers, stroking it mindlessly. 

"Oh," He doesn't say anything else. 

You just watch him quietly, waiting to see if he'll tell you. 

"She..." Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, "She's finally living the life she deserves...I hope."

You nod, watching as he hides it in his shirt again. 

"I'm s-sorry," You whisper. 

Jungkook can't tear his eyes away from the white carpet, "Me too."

"You m-must have really loved her..." 

He nods. 

I do.

It's silent again for a couple minutes, both of you just stuck in your own minds. His presence alone calms your nerves immensely.

Then, there's a voice over the speaker, announcing that the rooms with the new artists' work will be opening in just a few minutes. 

"I sh-should probably find my fr-friend," You say as you stand up, Jungkook following suit, "Thank y-you for talking to m-me."

"Thanks for letting me keep you company," Jungkook says gently, giving you what seems like a sad smile, "I think I'm gonna head out soon." 

"We'll prob-probably run into each other a-again," You laugh lightly as Jungkook nods, "Probably. See you later."

You bid him goodbye and leave, texting Jimin that you'll meet him at the rooms where the new artists' work will be shown. 

Jungkook watches the door swing shut behind you before he lets himself sink back down onto the couch, his head falling into his hands and his chest aching so deeply that he briefly wonders if his heart might actually stop beating. 

-

"Hey, are you alright?"

You nod to Jimin and give him a small smile, assuring him that you'll fill him in later. 

"I didn't think we'd run into you here."

You turn to see the other young man that works at the restaurant with Jungkook, a huge smile on his handsome face. The sweet waitress is next to him, also smiling brightly as she waves.

"Oh, hi!" Jimin exclaims, "What a small world."

"Were you guys here to see the new artists' gallery?" Taehyung asks. 

"Well, technically we came to see Kim Junsoo's work, we didn't know about the new artists until the other day, but we're definitely going to check them out."

The young man smiles kindly at you even though you hadn't been the one speaking, "I think you'll love it."

You smile back, a small ache in your heart once more that you again can't pinpoint.

"Well, we'll see you guys around," He gives you one more smile before walking away with the girl that slips her hand into his. 

Taehyung looks back at you when you aren't looking. 

Come on, ____. I know we're in there somewhere. 

_______________

"Wow, look at this," Jimin points to a statue that looks like it could be a million different things depending on the angle you're looking at it from. 

"C-cool," You muse, walking around it and inspecting it carefully. 

Your heart has been hurting ever since you were in that lounge area, no matter what you do to try and make it feel better, it won't. 

Walking around and looking at all the pieces, you and Jimin whisper about what you think the artists were going for or what might have inspired them. 

After a while, you get to a section that veers off a bit from the others, big and small paintings lining the white walls. 

Just walking into this area makes your body feel all warm and tingly. 

The first painting you see is one of a lotus flower, floating in the water. A closer look shows the reflection of a small boy holding a woman's hand. 

At first glance, one wouldn't even notice it. 

Gosh, it's beautiful. 

Tears spring to your eyes for some reason unknown to you. 

The next painting looks like a butterfly inside a cocoon, so lifelike and pretty.

You turn to see Jimin looking at a painting of a girl standing on the edge of a cliff. 

Walking over for a better look, your brows furrow in confusion. 

The girl's hair is flowing in the wind, and you can tell her arms are crossed in front of her as she hugs herself. 

It's gorgeous, but what confuses you are her clothes. 

She's wearing a short white skirt and a baby blue sweater. 

You have that exact outfit...

Even her socks and shoes look like yours...

"She looks like you," Jimin says quietly, turning to look at you, "Hey, she's even got your hair."

You swallow and nod, then you turn slowly and your breath gets stuck in your throat. 

The next painting your eyes land on is a girl lying in a bed, her hair covering most of her face as she sleeps soundly on a white pillow. It looks like it's through the eyes of the person lying next to her.

Jimin steps up next to you, "Is it just me, or does that also look like you?"

You turn again and see one of a girl wearing a flower crown, looking up to the sky as her arms are stretched above her head. It's only the back of her, so you can't see her face. 

But she's wearing another outfit that you could swear is in your closet and her hair looks just like yours. 

Huh?

Jimin points at another painting, "Ok, you can't tell me that isn't you."

You breathe out shakily as you come closer to the one he's pointing at. 

The girl is on her knees, a pillow under them as she holds a needle and string in her fingers, seemingly trying to thread the needle.  

The view is from above, so you can't fully see her face, but you can see enough of it. 

Your heartbeat picks up as you force your legs to keep walking, eyes scanning the paintings. 

The same girl is in every single one. 

She's hiding behind a purple teddy bear you could swear looks just like Bonbon, she's running in a field of purple flowers, she's holding a giant cotton candy duck that covers her face, she's sitting between the viewer's legs as they run a brush through her hair. And she's always wearing clothes that you know you own.

In all of them, it looks like the painter is capturing how in love they are.

What is going on?

Jimin watches as you start hurrying from one piece of art to the next, until you stop in front of one. 

"Holy shit," Jimin breathes when his eyes land on what you're staring at. 

The girl is sitting in the cart of a Ferris wheel, lights of the fair behind her as she looks up at the person behind the painting. 

The lights shining in her eyes look like a million stars in the night sky. 

Her face is clear as day.

It's you.

You take a faltering step back. 

There's no denying anymore that the girl in the paintings is you. 

You're so confused. 

Breath becoming short and quick, you take another step back. 

You don't know what's going on. 

How could you be this artist's inspiration if you've never met them before?

These things never happened to you...did they?

You turn to leave so that you can clear your head, but you're met with the last painting in the small hall that takes the last of your breath away. 

Jimin stands frozen, staring at the painting that you're standing in front of. 

A tiny dandelion, trying its best to reach the sun despite the larger dandelions looming above it and attempting to cover its humble beauty.

"What the fuck," Jimin whispers, scanning the painting that perfectly matches the drawing in your pocket, the only difference being the size and the fact that it has color. 

You can't tear your eyes away from the image, an overwhelming feeling of grief striking your heart. 

Suddenly, you're at a small dining table, looking at the tiny picture and talking about how beautiful it is. The face of a handsome boy smiling shyly at you appears as he takes it and walks over to his nightstand to put it in the drawer there. 

The one you'll open later and take the picture from, tucking it into your pocket so that he doesn't see.

Being yanked back to the present, you stumble back, a hand pressed to your mouth as the whole summer before you fell into a coma comes crashing into your brain like a fast-forwarded movie. 

"____!" Jimin cries as he jumps forward to catch you as you trip over your own feet trying to back away from the painting. 

He's a second too late as you land on your bottom, whole body shaking violently as tears stream down your face. 

The last memory you had of him, lying in a pool of his own blood, causes a broken sob to leave you as you clamp your hands on your mouth tightly. 

Jungkook.

"We lost him..."

Another sob leaves your throat as more people start to come into the hall, looking at the crying girl on the floor in confusion.

That's when it hits you. 

He isn't dead...

...he isn't...dead?

Jimin flinches when you scramble to your feet, tears pouring down your cheeks as you take off running down the hall. 

"Jungkook!" You run into the crowd of people, catching the attention of a certain young man that was about to enter the hall you were just in. 

"____?" Tae whispers in disbelief as he sees you sobbing and pushing through a crowd, screaming his best friend's name. 

"P-Please move!" You cry, shoving past people and not looking back once as you head for the restroom. 

Slamming into the lounge area, you look around frantically but don't see him anywhere. 

Did he leave already?

You turn and run out, now making your way to the escalators. 

"Jungkook!"

Finally getting through the mass of people, you run for the stairs next to the escalators and grab the railing to keep your balance as you practically fly down them. 

-

"Jeon Jungkook!!"

Jungkook is about to walk through the front doors when he hears someone screaming his name at the top of their lungs. 

He turns to see you running across the giant hall, tears streaming down your face as your hair falls in tangles around your face. 

"____?" His voice seems miles away as he takes a step towards you. 

A sob tears itself from you as you reach your arms out for him. 

Before he can even think, his feet are moving and he's meeting you halfway, catching you when you throw yourself into his arms.

"J-Jungkook," You cry hysterically as you stuff your face into his shoulder, crying your heart out, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

His hand cups the back of your head as he tries to understand what's going on, tears streaming down his face unashamedly as he holds you tightly. 

Do you really...remember him?

"I th-thought you d-died," You whimper, squeezing him.

"I'm right here," Jungkook's voice shakes uncontrollably, "I'm alive, I'm okay."

"You d-died, you died in m-my arms," Tears continue to pour down your soft cheeks. 

"I'm right here, sweetpea," Jungkook whispers, petting your hair, concentrating on the feeling of you in his arms, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." 

This is real. 

This is real. 

It's not another dream. 

You're here in his arms and you know him. 

This is real. 

Neither of you care about the stunned onlookers staring at you two in confusion.

Running across the hall and stopping a small distance away, Taehyung and Jimin freeze when they're met with the sight of you and Jungkook wrapped in each other's arms. 

"Holy fucking shit," Tae rasps, "She remembered."

You feel Jungkook pull you impossibly closer, "I missed you so fucking much, ____,” his voice breaks as the tears fall endlessly down his face. 

"I missed you t-too," You whisper into his neck.

Jungkook gulps and forces himself to keep breathing even as his brain and heart race. 

You finally pull away just enough to see his face. 

Laughing tearfully, you gently wipe his wet cheeks, "Y-You're alive," you whisper, salty tears still flowing even as a huge smile breaks out on your face, "You're a-actually alive."

He nods as you brush under his eyes, "I'm alive," he says quietly. 

Jungkook lowers you to the ground so he can cup your face with his trembling hands, "I love you, ____." It takes everything he has not to break down into uncontrollable sobs.

Your heart thunders in your chest as he leans down to slot his mouth against yours, the soft touch of his lips bringing fresh tears to your eyes after not feeling him for over a year. 

Jungkook's heart aches deeply in his chest, but this time, for the first time in so long, it's a good ache. 

It feels like he's drowning in you, and he doesn't want to come up for air. He's not going to let go of you again. He won't lose you, never again. 

"I l-love you too," You whisper when he finally pulls away to get a breath, your eyes staring into his, like you're reading his soul. 

It feels as though you're watching all of the agony he went through all this time. 

"I'm s-so sorry I forgot," you choke out, "I'm sorry I d-didn't remember you."

Jungkook shakes his head and smiles at you so softly it breaks your heart, "You came back to me, that's all that matters now."

"I'm n-never leaving again," You promise, lifting your hand and linking your pinky with his. 

After he wraps his pinky around yours and seals the deal, he pulls you into another kiss. 

Taehyung quickly brushes under his eyes before anyone can catch the few tears that escape as he fights a smile. 

I knew you'd come back, ____.

__________________________________________

4 months later...

"Come on, hurry up, slowpoke."

You grumble at Jungkook's words as you climb the rocks going up the cliff. 

"Y-you did this l-last time," you huff and puff grumpily as Jungkook laughs, "There's a p-path and you a-always make me cli-climb this."

Jungkook reaches down and takes your hand, pulling you up the last few feet, "This is more exciting though, don't you think?"

You can't help the smile that spreads on your face as he winks at you. 

Looking around, you sigh happily, not so irritated now that you're at the top and get to look at the gorgeous view. 

"H-Has it really b-been so long?" You muse, walking over to the edge and looking out over the water, remembering the day Jungkook took you here for the first time. It's still hard to believe he was planning on killing you here. 

Jungkook smiles at the sight of your hair blowing in the wind, just like it was back then. 

Feeling his arms wrap around your waist, you let yourself relax into him as you watch the sunset; gold and pink clouds splattered across the sky. 

Jungkook tucks his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, "Love you, sweetpea," he mumbles before leaving a sweet kiss there. You smile and rub his hands that rest on your hips, "L-Love you too, s-silly."

He inhales deeply, breathing in your sweet scent and sighing happily. 

"Do you think Pumpkin and Yin are behaving?"

You laugh quietly, "They l-love Tae, Yeona too. I'm s-sure they're being good."

Feeling his tickly breath against your neck, you giggle. 

Jungkook smiles and kisses your neck once more before pulling away. 

You pout and turn to him, "W-why did stop?"

He visibly gulps and you look at him in concern, "H-Hey, are you okay?"

Nodding, he puts a hand in his pocket as he gulps again.

You're about to ask him what's wrong when the words get stuck in your throat as he kneels on the ground and gently takes your hand. 

You can feel his hand shaking slightly. 

"J-Jungkook..."

He pulls his other hand from his pocket, and you see a small black box. 

Your heart races as he looks up at you. 

"____...I-"

It's your turn to gulp as he pulls himself together enough to say what he's been wanting to say for so long. 

"My entire life, I was always searching for a way to be whole. I could never even imagine loving myself, let alone another person," Tears brim in his eyes as he squeezes your hand gently, "I never thought the person I would fall so deeply in love with would be you. And through loving you, I grew to learn how to love myself too."

You resist the urge to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

"I thought loving someone meant growing up, but that isn't what happened with you. I became a kid again and I've gotten to love you with no conditions, no strings attached, no worries to hurry and grow up. I can love you with everything I have and not worry that either of us will ever need something more."

Breathing out shakily, Jungkook opens the little box and you see the ring he's kept with him for so long, your heart pounding frantically. 

"All I want, all I need in this world is you, ____."

You cover your mouth with your hand so you can muffle the cries threatening to come out. 

"It took long enough for us to get here, and I don't want to waste any more time. I want to always be with you, spend every waking moment making you smile, drying your tears, and battling whatever fears come your way. I want to give you the life you deserve."

A soft cry falls from your lips as you nod excitedly at the silent question in his pleading eyes. 

He slips the ring on your finger carefully as his hands shake, a tear slipping from his eye when he sees that it fits perfectly. 

Jungkook stands up and pulls you into a gentle kiss, then he pulls back and smiles softly, "I want to live for what I love."

Remember, only give this precious gift to the person you fall in love with. It has magical powers and you will be together forever if you give it to them! Don't laugh and just believe me, okay?

You'll be okay, Koo.

Tag list; @hopekookies ​ @moonchild1​ @barbellastyles98 ​ @teresaisla ​​ @ggukkieland​ @scuzmunkie​​​ @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies​​​ @moon-asia​​ @bangtannie7​​​ @yoonchrisgull​​​ @njkbangtan @dlwrlmajaykay​​​ @higashikatasgf​​​ @sweetonkookieandtae @voidswan-recs​​​ @sadxaries​​​ @shadowmoon21​​​ @jinfused​​​ @taehyungiev13​​​ @gaeguuliii​​ @kimnamjoonluvbot​​ @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinn​​​ @surilirani @patpus​​​ @yukiehyukie​​​ @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk​​​ @steffiiirose @the-falling-star​​​ @telepathytae​​ @erenkook-blog​​​ @rosiekoo​​​ @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @bubbless-world​​​ @yeow6n​​​ @purpleunicorn051​​​ @canarystwin​​​

[twilghtkoo]

summary. you’re watching a new anime and you happen to fixate on a certain character that looks like your boyfriend…

pairings. jungkook x reader (f)

genre. fluff!!! suggestive?? implications of sex towards the end

warnings. uhm jungkook cosplaying as suwa rei :o let’s imagine jungkook’s sides are shaved but he has that haircut from his boxing live?? ok?

note. this is my first jungkook work and i just watched the recent ep of buddy daddies and IMMEDIATELY had to write this bc it hit me that rei and kook have the same hair *screams* also y’all remember jungkook had the shaved sides??? YEAH. YEAH.

—

“please!”

“no.”

“pleeaase!”

“noooo.”

you huff out a breath. “and if i run away and marry him?” you say questioningly, crossing your arms.

jungkook lets out a chuckle, not minding you any business as he prepares himself a late night snack, ramen.

“ok baby, go ahead.” he nods without any thought, stirring the seasonings in the pot carefully.

do you watch anime all the time? yeah, when you have the free time. he does too. sometimes both of you even cuddle together on the couch and binge watch a new show he or you have mentioned. you take a liking to certain characters, he can see a pattern, and gush over them occasionally during a scene where they pop up. for instance, you both are watching chainsaw man. he doesn’t know how, but you fell in “love” with the character aki. are tsundere men you’re type? is he tsundere?

“kook,” you spoke out, using your upper strength to push yourself off to sit on the countertop.

he hums in response.

you sigh, “baby, i just want to see what you’d look like. come on, a bad ass, game lover, hitman.” you expressed, he doesn’t have to look at you to see that you have those hopeful, beaming eyes. because he knows. he falls for them every time.

jungkook’s ramen is done and he takes the pot off the burner with a cork pot holder in his other hand to sit at the table. “why do you want to see me dress up as him so bad? you’ve never asked me to dress up as any of the other characters you’ve liked.”

you bite your lip, nervously. “yeah, cause i know you would’ve said no and i was too shy to ask. but kook, you’ll literally cosplay this man to a T!” imagining your boyfriend dressed up as suwa rei, from buddy daddies, an anime you recently started. one that popped up on your tiktok and you had found the plot quite interesting.

you realized you’re being ignored when jungkook slurps up a mouthful of noodles and is making angry noises as he chews.

huffing and jumping down from the counter. “fine, i’m going to assume you are thinking about it right now and don’t want to make your cute girlfriend said so i’ll ask you again later.” you ruffle the top of his messy, curly head and leave the kitchen to let him eat peacefully.

you had honestly forgot about it, a couple hours have passed and you’re finishing up an assignment you completely forgot that was due tomorrow as soon as you step foot into the class. you were in your room, sitting on your bed, back resting against a pillow against the headboard as you were quickly typing half-assed answers.

you assumed jungkook was showering, hearing the water running and some noises echo out from the door. he wasn’t crying for help, so all was good and you continued your work.

“babe?” jungkook calls out from the bathroom.

still typing but responding nonetheless, “yeah?”

“can you close your eyes?” your fingers pause above the keyboard, your head turning towards your bathroom door as you spot his feet’s silhouette.

you told your head, confused. “why?”

“just do it.”

“okay,” you do as you were told. “i can no longer see.” you responded, making jungkook giggle slightly which made the corners of your lips turn upward a bit.

after a few seconds of silence you hear the door open.

you hear him huff, “ok, open them now.” he mumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

slowly opening your eyes as you are met with your boyfriend standing before you, his hair slightly damp from the shower he just took, assuming he towel dried it. he’s dressed neck down in a black blazer paired with black dress pants that hug his muscular thighs. a white collar underneath with the grey little waistcoat and a maroon tie. to top it all off, his hair is up, he even remembered to let out a strand dangle, his shaved side burns being revealed.

jungkook is tugging his lip ring with his teeth as he nervously eyes you crawl off the bed with your mouth slightly open. he’s never really been into cosplaying, not sure if he could pull it off like the people he’s seen on social media, but he wants to pull it off in front of you.

“do i look silly?” his hands are tugging at the ends of his blazer, your eyes following it as you gasp with a hand over your mouth.

he even has gloves on.

jungkook’s eyes widen, “what? i look bad? do i look–“

you shake your head, quickly cutting him off as you admire the man in front of you right now.

“no, no, god no, kook. you look fucking hot.” making sure to emphasize the last word. you extend your arm to hold onto the fabric of his clothes, all of a sudden your legs feel like jelly.

he’s quick to hold onto you, tugging you against his front. “careful baby, this suit is designer.” he tells you, smirking. oh, now he’s confident.

“ugh, fuck you. god why are you so hot!” you push yourself away from his hold, voluntarily face planting onto your bed as you kick your feet in frustration.

you hear jungkook chuckling behind you as he slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. “don’t you want to take pictures? this won’t happen again…” jungkook sings out. he’s highly amused on how him dressed up as your favorite character has you acting all frustrated. perhaps, sexually frustrated??

immediately your heard perks up as you frantically search for your phone.

“can we have sex when you’re done playing photographer?” he asks during mid-shoot, continuously posing for you, even trying to mimic rei’s hard glare he has all the time.

“duh.”

[whoretan]

ARK 45 | 02

Summary: After what turned out to be an unsuccessful night, Jimin invites you over to his apartment where things certainly go in another direction.

WC: 3.5k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader (ft. Jimin)

tags: um, so reader n jimin, yeah, fuckin against a window, slapping, dirty talk, murder and torture, possessive jimin???, jimin is a sadist, im sorry for what ive done, theres like 10% plot, 90% porn, reader will smash jk soon i swear

Chapters: 1 | 2 (ur here)

The screams of ache bouncing across the wooden walls are only driving your frustration further. 

You enjoy hurting people, but tonight, you have no patience for the whiny asshole Jimin left you to deal with. 

And typically, you have the patience of a fucking saint. 

About fifteen minutes after you left ARK, Jimin texted you the geo-coordinates to a random location that won’t show up on any Google searches. 

Jimin doesn’t trust anyone but you to do his dirty work. So while he gets to pounce around the city like an angel in a suit, you’re stuck dealing with the tedious and messy portion of the job. Then again, it pays well, so, there’s no room for complaining.

“I’m about three seconds away from slicing your tongue off,” you warn. “And I don’t plan on being nice about it either, John.” 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ lady,” he cries like a little bitch. “Jungkook don’t tell us which warehouse he keeps the shipments in, that’s for the upper guys.” 

 John has about five seconds left before he goes knocking on God’s door. 

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re useless?” You deduce, grabbing his chin roughly to part his saliva-covered lips. 

“No, no, no,” he pleads. “There’s someone at ARK that can get you the information you want.” 

Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood riddling his face. John’s bald, somewhere in his late thirties, and a whiner. He has a wedding band on his left hand, probably some kids too, not that any of it’s your concern. 

You’d already cut off two of his fingers, stabbed his Achilles heel, and are coming close to slicing his tongue off. Normally, you like to play this thing slowly. The slower the better, the more likely the chance of getting whatever unfortunate fucker landed in your hands to spill the information you need.

John cringes away from the knife, tears bubbling out from beneath his lashes. 

“Dude name is Tony. H-he’s one of the security guards. B-big n’ tall, huge snake tattoo on his face.”

You roll your neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It’s been a long fucking day, and you’re still wearing the damned hooker dress that Jimin had dropped off for you.

“Great, thanks,” you say casually as if you haven’t spent the past hour torturing him. 

His breathing calms, and he looks up at you through his dull, ugly eyes and hope radiates from them. You almost laugh.

“So, y-you’ll let me go, right?” he asks, staring up at you like a little kid begging for a toy. 

“Sure,” you say. 

“Are you serious?” he pleads. 

“No, John,” you grin. “I’m not.”

You swing your arm back and plunge the entirety of your knife through his temple. 

He dies instantly, slumping forward against the rope that bonded him to the chair. 

You slide your knife from his skull, the noise threatening to ruin your dinner plans. This is unfortunate because you’re really fucking hungry. 

The knife squelches against the skin, taunting and unwilling to leave the flesh. And sure, while you enjoy a good torture session, you don’t get off on the sounds that accompany it.

Typically on a night like this, you’d dismember poor little John and then dump his remains into the cremator you and Jimin keep at a warehouse off the grid. 

But, not tonight. 

You weren’t even supposed to be on the clock, besides the obvious shit show that happened at ARK. 

You sigh, pulling out your phone from your bra, and cringe at the sight of blood smudging onto the screen. It’ll be a bitch to clean later, so you wipe it down on your matching red dress. 

going home. going to light a cig first.

Light a cig being code for burning down whatever building you’re in. 

Shoving the phone back into your bra, you bend down to John’s level, searching through his pockets. Dude’s like him almost always have a smoking problem, and besides, the fucker smells like it too. Mixed with his own piss that is of course. 

Your hand lands on the familiar plastic and you sigh thankfully, one less headache for you.

There’s a vibration against the shell of your tit and you straighten your back, pulling out the device again. Jimin’s name is written in bold letters atop your notification center.

good. come by my apartment.  

Something inexplicably dark arises in your chest.

 Jimin never asks you to come over. 

You suck in your bottom lip, biting back a groan. Goodbye dinner it is.

Sure, why the hell not?

A ping sounds, and the doors to Jimin’s penthouse apartment open. 

He lives fifteen or so minutes away from your own apartment, but on top of the already fifty-minute drive home from the barn— you’re not exactly thrilled by any account to be here.

He stands by the door, gaze entirely locked on yours and you can’t help but scowl. So what? It’s four in the damn morning and no human being should look this well put together at this hour. 

Jimin wears black lounge trousers, a low-cut robe with embroidered flowering, and that damned rosary he can’t seem to ever take off. 

“Come in,” he motions his head toward the inside of his apartment. 

You nod, locking in your bottom lip as you slip past your boss. A sliver of something that shouldn’t be so pleasant curls in your stomach— the smell of the deep and citrus oceanic cologne he always has on invades your senses. 

Jesus. 

The feeling is so strong and sudden that you exhale a breath to try and push it away. 

He steps into the apartment after you, and with a click, locks the door. This feels all too intimate. 

“So?” 

You blink.

“So?”

He sighs. “Jungkook.” 

Fuck. 

The chance of you admitting you performed a lap dance for Jeon Jungkook is zero. You’d cut your own tongue off before you ever admit that you might’ve slightly enjoyed it. 

You sigh. “He wasn’t in. I’m going to call the front desk tomorrow.” 

Jimin quirks a brow, and the playful tug to the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. He doesn’t believe a single word you just said. 

You groan and turn around, making a beeline to the cloud couch he had you order last year. You sink into the white cushion and moan at the softness that envelopes your frame, it feels like heaven on Earth. Soft as hell and a hundred times better than the one in your own home.

“Where’s the dress?” Jimin appears from behind you, the hint of that smirk still remaining on his face— just the slightest curl in his lips. His eyes travel over your body, and you feel the intrusion. 

You roll your eyes. You’ve changed into a skirt and long sleeve shirt. Not your best look, but it’s better than what Jimin deemed to be a dress. “I gave it to the hooker outside.” 

He chuckles and the sofa beside you dips.

A beat passes and then Jimin says, “I’m going to have to fuck the information out of Miranda.” 

You release a heavy breath at the sudden change of atmosphere. What the fuck is going on with him tonight? 

Turning your head to face your boss, you watch his tongue travel over his bottom lip. His gaze drops to your exposed legs, and you subconsciously clench your thighs in response. 

It’s too hot in here. Way too fucking hot. You have to divert the conversation somewhere else, somewhere where he isn’t devouring your skin like it’ll be his last meal.

“Jimin, is everything okay?” 

He doesn’t break eye contact but the darkness envelops his eyes. 

“No ___, it’s not.” He looks away momentarily to sigh, then meets your gaze again. “Jungkook wants me dead, and once he finds out about you he’ll kill you too. I just found out that he’s already on Hobi’s trail and now I’m gonna have to spend almost all my time playing prince charming for his annoying fucking sister when I just really want to spend my time fucking you.” 

Your breath hitches and you have to look away from the fiery gaze. Diverge. Don’t think.

Not once in your career has Jimin made any moves on you. Hell, before tonight you hadn’t even stepped foot into his apartment. The thought of having sex with your boss had been only a mere daydream on your first night on the job, never again.

“Jimin, I don’t think that’s a good idea.“

Without hesitation, he shifts closer to you, hand touching the bare skin of your lower thigh. “Why not? I’ve had people breathing down my fucking neck every day all week. I can’t even fuck anymore because I’m too paranoid they’re a spy Jungkook’s sent on me.” 

The confession has you blinking, shell-shocked. Since when has Jimin become this paranoid about Jungkook?

His body presses against yours, sandwiching you between him and the cushion. You stifle a gasp when he leans in and the warmness of his breath courses your lobe. “He knew who you were tonight.”

Everything stills, one second Jimin’s hovering over you, warm breath tickling your skin as your stomach does laps. The next, you’re pushing him off of you, sending him hurling off of the couch and backward. He regains his composure and inches forward again, like a predator about to devour its prey. He grabs both of your wrists to prevent you from clawing his eyes out of their sockets.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Jimin sent you into ARK when Jungkook knew what you looked like?

Holy shit.

Jungkook knows what you look like. 

He knew tonight and still had you grinding on his hard cock. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the hurricane brewing in your chest. 

Fuck, fuck. You’re going to lose your shit and possibly strangle your boss.

“I need you to calm down,” he grits against your hold, pushing his body completely onto yours, leaving you limp in his hold. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see what his reaction would be.” 

You lock your gaze with his, anger dancing in all the curvatures of your face. You feel tiny and helpless encased in his hold. Even more, you’re surprised he has the strength to hold you like this, unmoving, unfaltering like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

What if Jungkook decided to kill you?  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He leans in, warm breath caressing your lobe. “Doesn’t it excite you? That he played along with your little game, Joanna?” 

“Jimin, I’m fucking serious, I—“ 

He’s so heavy on top of you, his chest moves rapidly as he presses further into you. You feel the apples of his cheeks rise against your neck, “Did you fuck him?” 

This is too much. Too much all at once. You’re suffocating in Jimin’s scent, his breath, his voice. 

You shake your head and close your eyes. 

“You wanted to though, right?” He whispers amusingly. 

He’s enjoying this. He’s bathing in your discomfort, the way your twitching against him, withering away from his hold, pushing your neck away, he basks in it. This should be wrong, it should terrify you. 

Yet, it doesn’t. His weight feels good, it feels exhilarating to lose control for once. To be the given instead of the giver, to have your freedom stripped bare. 

So, instead of screaming you confess, “Y-yes.” 

Jimin hums, sending a wave of vibration through your neck. He licks a strip from the bottom to the shell of your lobe, “And do you want me to fuck you, too?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind draws a blank and the only thing that pounds through it is, yes, yes, yes. 

“Yes.” 

“What’d he tell you?” Jimin asks as he releases your wrists from his grip. You let them drop to the cushion without a fight. 

He doesn’t stand from the couch, instead, he digs his knee further into the space between your opened legs and straightens his back. When your eyes meet, his eyes are dark, low, and filled with an intimacy you’ve never seen before from him. 

“He said he doesn’t hire whores,” you sigh at the recollecting memory. The sounds of Jungkook’s laughter as he walked out of his office to call the guards fills your mind. 

It’s Jimin’s very own laughter that drags you back to the present. 

“How ironic,” He muses.

He’s terrifying like this, dominating you in every way possible as he looms above you. He undoes the piece of fabric keeping his robe pieced together and lets the sides fall. You flinch subconsciously when he raises his hand to grab your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a whore, ___?” 

You catch your breath at the monster before you. It’s not the words that leave you breathless, it’s the sweet smile accompanying them. The same one he gives you when he walks into the building in the afternoon, or when he hands you a check after a mission saying you’ve done a great. It’s welcoming, friendly, and utterly fucking terrifying. 

This is a horrible idea. Slowly, you nod. 

“Good.” 

The sound comes first, then the realization. You blink repeatedly as your vision blurs, the impact so brutal it’s left you looking in the other direction. Then, the pain. Sizzling, stinging, and painfully hot. Your cheek will bruise, without a doubt. You moan. 

When you turn your head around to face Jimin his smile only grows, wider and wider. He pushes his knee further into your cunt, the friction bringing it alive.  “Again.”

This time, he hits the other cheek. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it pulses in every one of your nerves, and it sends your body ablaze along with it. The pain feels so fucking good. 

You want him to cut you open and eat you alive. 

Without another word, Jimin pushes his knee off of the couch, cracks his neck, and points toward the exposed windows, “Strip.” 

You oblige, following the command like a lost puppy. He backs away, giving you space as you push off of the couch and toss your clothes. Avoiding the intruding stare, you turn around and walk to where you know he wants you.  The air in his apartment is freezing, leaving you with hard nipples and goosebumps.

The windows are completely open to the world. 

Anyone in the other high rises will be able to see you. They can see you.  

The city’s beautiful, shimmering lights keep it alive in the darkness. In the reflection of the glass, you see Jimin stalking toward you as if he has all the time in the world. 

He stares at your legs, ass, and back, then he meets your gaze in the reflection. When he reaches your heel, his hands graze your stomach, and his lips meet the back of your neck in soft slow kisses. It’s when his hand pushes past your stomach and below your underwear that the ecstasy hits you.

He’s slow, painfully so, his middle finger slides through your folds and you feel teeth etch themselves into your shoulder. The cold metal of the ring grazing your clit finger sends a shiver down your spine, you release a groan and he bites harder on the flesh. 

He rubs your clit with two fingers, allowing you to savor in the warming pulses rippling through your cunt. Through the pleasure, you feel him pushing his hard cock into your ass, grinding onto the exposed flesh. 

You’re moaning like hell, unable to contain how good it feels to have someone dominating you, relishing in your body. He releases your clit and moves his fingers downward, instantly sticking two digits in your hole. The pain from how hard he’s biting into your shoulder, undoubtedly drawing blood, with how fast his fingers pulse in and out of you sends you into another dimension.

In the back of your mind, you hear the slow rhythm of The Weeknd’s song filling the air, transcending you back in time. Jungkook’s low growl and how hard his dick felt on your ass as you danced for him. 

The fact that you made him hard even though he knew who you are.

The fact that he wanted to fuck you regardless of the idea that you possibly murdered his father.  

He let you grind on him, feel all of him. 

He wanted you. 

You want him right now. Want to feel the swell of his cock again, hear him say those nasty arrogant words, and steal them from his lips. 

“Just like that,” Jungkook growls against your ear.

You open your eyes, panting hard, it’s Jimin who stares back into the reflection, smirking at your battered form. You’re spasming all over his fingers, pussy pulsing in a rhythmic beat as you orgasm. You’re moaning, hands pressed flat against the glass. 

Jimin doesn’t wait for you to finish riding the waves of your orgasm. He takes his fingers out of you, leaving your cunt clenching against nothing. You’re too occupied with calming your breaths to hear the fabric of his trousers tossing, to hear him his as he hisses when he uses the same fingers he used in you to wet his cock. 

You do, however, feel him push your thong to the side and the swell of his cock at your entrance. You’re so ready, you’ve never been more ready for anything else. It’s been two fucking years. God, you can’t fucking think straight.

“Fuck me al—“

The words are stolen from you when Jimin pushes himself into you completely, he doesn’t let you catch your breath, doesn’t give you time to formulate any words, he just goes. 

With one hand, he grabs the back of your neck and slams your face into the glass. The coldness of it feels good on your cheek, the mixture of the hard surface and the pounding has you grinding through your teeth, it’s too much. It encompasses you, filling you like nothing else in the world can.

Jimin fucks you relentlessly, pounding in you at light speed. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t stutter. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh fills the quietness of his apartment, you can’t help but moan. 

“The world’s watching you.” He releases your neck, quickly switching over to grab a bundle of your hair and yank your head toward the flashing city.  

It’s blurry, all over the place, and you moan like a whore for it. 

“Watch them,” Jimin growls. 

He’s fucking you faster than before, your stomach bubbles with the formation of a second orgasm. You can’t think, can’t breathe, you’re just taking. Taking Jimin’s cock as he gives it to you, as he takes everythingfrom you.

You close your eyes, and your head falls limp. Everything feels so slick, so wet. Jimin’s cock is easing in and out of you, his free hand grips your exposed boob, massaging it. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” He releases your tit, slapping it before grabbing your chin to face the world before you. “Watch them as I fuck you.” 

A muffled sound escapes you, he’s let go of your hair, exposed chest flat against your back as he continues thrusting. 

“You’ll kill anyone for me,” He says, voice wavering in pleasure, “I just need to say the name.” 

Your heart and head pound because he’s right. The second he says a name, the life has already been taken from them. They’ve been handed over to the Grim Reaper, and fuck, does Park Jimin own you. 

Every command is his, and every action of yours is done by his accord.  

Jimin’s hips are stuttering now, he’s mumbling something but you can’t get the thought out of your head, can’t hear the words.

You’ll do anything to fulfill his command. Anything. 

Your stomach coils, and your pussy pulses faster than before. You feel Jimin’s falls hitting your cunt with each thrust and it feels too good. It’s too good, too overwhelming. 

“Mine,” he moans, and then he’s stuttering, sloppily thrusting until he stops. He allows the milky liquid to spill into your cunt.

He continues to slowly thrust in you, pushing his cum further and further back into you. He’s claiming you. He’s fucking claiming you. 

Your head falls limp, forehead against the glass and you breathe hard. 

Jimin pulls out of you, hissing as the cold air envelops his dick. He slaps your ass and tugs his cock back into his trousers. 

You can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

Mine, mine, mine. 

Jimin’s words replay in your mind on an endless loop. His.

If you’re supposed to be his, then why can’t you seem to get a certain arrogant son-of-a-bitch’s face out of your head?

Reply 2 be added. Ty for reading.

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