#i have come up with at least... twenty mafia aus

[candycandy00]

His Good Girl - An Umemiya x Reader Fanfic

Sold to a local mafia syndicate by your indebted parents, you’re forced to “entertain” a visiting rival mafia head named Umemiya. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Umemiya as a 20-something mafia boss. Dubcon. Oral sex. Inexperienced Reader. Umemiya is a sweetheart. 

This is my first time writing Umemiya so please be gentle! Any feedback is adored! This was inspired by a bizarre dream I had and the idea refused to leave my brain. I might write a follow up if there’s any interest. Divider by @benkeibear.

Your parents owed the local mafia way more money than they could ever repay, so they basically handed you over as payment the day you turned 19. It’s only been a week, and so far you’re still uncertain what your job will be here. You figured you’d be shoved into some brothel, but thankfully, not yet. 

The whole mafia mansion is abuzz today because of some meeting taking place tonight. Apparently they’re hosting the heads of several local mafia families to try to negotiate territories and boundaries. An older lady comes in and explains to you and ten other young women what your roles will be.

To keep the heads of the other families happy and compliant, the plan is to have you and the other women “entertain” them. You feel a knot in your stomach, already guessing what that might entail. Then she goes over the details, and it’s somehow worse. You’re to spend the entirety of the meeting, which could take hours, cockwarming them. With your mouths. You won’t be allowed to take their dicks out of your mouths unless they have to leave the room, and your job will be to make them cum as many times as possible. 

The men in charge of this family seem to think it will be amusing, watching all these stoic, powerful men trying to keep their cool while pretty ladies are on their knees in front of them, sucking them off all evening. 

You feel sick to your stomach, but you don’t argue or protest. You’re told that doing this one job will cut your parents’ debt in half. The sooner you work it off, the sooner you can be free of this place. So you grimly prepare with the other women, dressing up in tantalizing outfits and putting on makeup. You’ll try your best, even though you have no experience with this sort of thing. 

When the meeting starts, you and the other women are already in the room. There’s a half circle of eleven chairs, and you watch in trepidation as the guests begin walking in. 

None of them are gross, at least. Most are fairly attractive, even the slightly older ones. And to a man, they are all dressed impeccably. Figures. No self respecting mafia head is going to show up looking like a slob. 

The last man to arrive catches your eye, for a number of reasons. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. Really tall. He towers over everyone else in the room. The second thing you notice is that he’s incredibly handsome. He has fine features, soft white hair that’s mostly slicked back, a few strands falling into his bright blue eyes. He’s younger than the rest. You’d guess mid twenties. He’s radiant, smiling in a friendly manner, wearing a long jacket that’s been left unbuttoned. It’s a casual style that would look unpolished on anyone else, but on him it looks stylish. 

The women behind you are whispering, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. Are they talking about him?

The hosting mafia head explains the plans for the meeting, and why the women are there. Almost all of the visiting heads seem excited, but you notice the tall, beautiful man seems unhappy with the idea. 

“That sounds pretty miserable for the ladies,” he says, glancing at the group of women. 

The hosting mafia boss who owns you laughs. “Nonsense! They all feel honored to be able to serve such distinguished gentlemen! Isn’t that right, ladies?”

All of the women, including you, slowly nod. A few of them even put on phony smiles. The handsome man’s eyes meet yours for a brief moment. Can he see the near panic in them? 

“Regardless, I think I’ll respectfully decline,” he says. 

One of the other guests slaps him playfully on the back. “What’s wrong, Umemiya? Afraid you won’t last as long as the rest of us?”

So his name is Umemiya. He gives the other man an awkward smile. “Haha, maybe.”

The host narrows his eyes. “If you decline, we’ll take that as an insult to our hospitality, and we’ll have to ask you to leave the meeting.”

Umemiya looks back at the man, and though his friendly expression doesn’t change, there’s a gleam in his eyes, like a quiet anger bubbling beneath the surface. Then he sighs and says, “Fine. I guess I’ll accept your… hospitality.”

All the men take seats in the half circle, including the host, who is clearly excited to begin. Then he looks at the women and says, “Ladies, I’ll allow you the honors of choosing tonight.”

You and the other women stand there awkwardly for a moment. You hear one of them say in a low voice to another, “That guy’s gorgeous but I’m definitely not picking him.”

You turn to face her. “Huh? Why not?”

Her voice is a whisper. “Oh, honey. Think about it. A guy that tall is gonna have a huge dick. I don’t want to choke all night. It would be unbearable. A shame though, he actually seems nice.”

You watch nervously as the women begin selecting their men for the evening. The more handsome ones are taken first, then the others, until only Umemiya remains. You realize with shock, and embarrassment, that you have to pick him. You shyly approach, your hands fiddling with the hem of the too short skirt you were told to wear. 

He looks up at you with an uneasy grin. “Guess I was last picked. That’s kind of embarrassing!” Then his eyes seem to focus on your face. “How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen,” you squeak out. 

He sighs again. “At least you’re an adult.” He gives you a warm smile. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll try to make this as easy on you as possible, so let’s try to get through it together.”

You feel your heart flutter. You can’t believe how nice he is, on top of being ridiculously good looking. Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

The other women begin dropping to their knees in front of their chosen men, so you do the same, feeling completely out of your depth. 

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks as he begins unbuckling his belt. 

You shake your head. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, then he looks at you apologetically. “I’m really sorry about this.”

Huh? Why does he keep apologizing? He was basically threatened into doing this, same as you. But those thoughts freeze in your brain when you see the enormous organ he just pulled out of his pants. 

Ehhhhhh???? Is this thing for real?! Surely they’re not supposed to be that big! You glance to the side, and the woman to your right is staring at it with bulging eyes. Then she gives you a pitying look. 

Umemiya himself looks a little embarrassed. “Uh, it gets a little bigger when I’m fully hard. Just thought I’d warn you.”

It gets bigger?! How?! You try to contain your shock as you eye the imposing shaft. 

The host claps twice to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s begin the meeting! Ladies, remember to keep those cocks all the way in your mouths! And don’t forget to keep those tongues busy!”

You look back at the cock in front of you with alarm. The women beside you both lean forward and take dicks into their mouths. You couldn’t help noticing that those dicks looked tiny by comparison to Umemiya’s. 

“Take your time,” he says to you in a comforting voice, “ease it in slowly. It’s okay if your teeth touch it, just try not to bite down.”

“O-okay,” you say, leaning your face forward and opening your mouth. It’s already bigger than when he first pulled it out, quickly growing hard despite his reluctance to participate. You feel it press in past your lips, dragging across your tongue, and finally hit the back of your throat. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes, right? 

Looking forward, you can see that he’s not all the way in your mouth. Your eyes flick toward the host, worried that he’ll notice. Umemiya seems to notice. “Try to relax your throat,” he tells you. “That’s it, you’re doing good.”

His voice sends goosebumps across your skin as his massive cock slides even further in, going partially down your throat. 

“Breathe through your nose,” he says. 

Your hands are on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants. You’re gagging slightly, trying to keep it under control and focus on breathing. At least he smells nice, like fresh citrus. 

The meeting begins. The host starts talking, but you can’t listen to him. Your full attention is on the giant cock in your mouth. Occasionally you hear one of the men grunt or groan, but overall they seem to be trying to focus on the meeting. Umemiya is eerily calm, maintaining his usual expression and only glancing down to meet your gaze every so often. 

After what feels like forever, your jaw is sore and your throat aches. Tears fill your eyes. When Umemiya notices, he looks at you guiltily before moving one large hand over to gently rub the top of your head. “Good girl,” he says, “you’re taking me really well.”

The statement makes heat spread over your face. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be making him cum. The thought of it makes you excited somehow. You feel the urge to pleasure him, to make him feel good. He’s been so sweet to you after all. He hasn’t moved at all, letting you do things at your own pace. Looking up at his face, it’s clearer than ever how gorgeous he is. 

You tighten your lips around his base, your tongue gliding across the underside of his shaft while your tight throat constricts around his tip. He looks down at you suddenly, blue eyes slightly widened, another strand of his hair slipping down across his forehead. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly. 

You wish you could tell him that you want to. Instead you continue, licking him and sucking out the gooey precum from his tip. You hear his breath catch in his throat, but he makes no other reaction. 

He holds out for longer than you expected, even speaking to the host at one point. But eventually his hand grips your hair, and for the first time you feel a bit of force from him as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat and choking you. Immediately, you feel his warm cum flood your mouth, coating the back of your tongue and oozing down your neck. 

His hand quickly releases you, and he mutters another apology. His face looks slightly flushed, and he’s breathing a little harder. Oh god, he looks so hot right now. You feel a growing dampness between your legs as you stare up at him, his now soft cock still in your mouth. 

Right away you begin gently suckling on the sticky flesh, your tongue pressing into the tip.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna be hard again in no time,” he tells you. 

You look up at him, hoping he can read your intentions from your eyes. You want to pleasure him, again and again. 

He pats your head affectionately. “You’re so cute.”

Ahh? Did this unbelievably beautiful man, who happened to be a powerful mafia boss, just call you cute? You feel yourself blushing. You’re not sure if it’s possible to fall in love with a man while his cock is in your mouth, but you think you just did. 

By the time the long, boring meeting ends, you’ve made him cum twice more, both times feeding you his tasty cum and calling you his “good girl”. 

After it’s over, you pull away, your jaw stiff and hurting. Your mouth is a mess, wet and sticky, covered in drool and cum. A handkerchief appears in front of your face, and you look up to find Umemiya holding it out to you with a friendly smile. You take it, wiping your mouth before he stands and helps you to your feet. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

You move your jaw a bit, then wince. “I’ll be okay,” you answer. 

He stares at you for a moment, then asks, “How did you end up here?”

You glance around to make sure no one is paying attention. “My parents owed a debt, so they gave me as payment.”

Umemiya frowns. “Let me guess, their debt transferred to you.”

You nod. 

“Alright then,” he says. “I’ll pay off your debt if you’ll come work for me.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be a legitimate job, nothing like this. And you’d be free to come and go as you please.”

“You’d do that for me?” you ask. “Why?”

He scratches the back of his head, looking a little awkward. “Maybe I imagined it, but it felt like there was something between us. Not just the physical stuff. Was it just me?”

“No! I felt it too!” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to tell him your panties are soaked. 

He gives you a heated look. “Then maybe I can return the favor.”

Your skin flushes as you press your thighs together in anticipation. “I’d like that.”

He grins. “I’ll go talk to the boss. Just wait here for me.”

He walks away, and you feel your heart beating so fast, you feel like it might burst. You smile happily, ready to begin your new, much better life. 

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Turning Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, dark themes implied, oral (male receiving), body piercings, cum-eating, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune 📍AN: As a birthday gift to me (9-24) I am posting this hecka early. But also annoucing that there will not be another CIY posting until after October (most likely. who knows, i might get impatient myself) as ill be focusing on Kinktober and some fics i have planned for October! There are 6 chapters left (roughly) so please enjoy <3

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Three weeks. Three weeks had gone by and you had to admit, you missed them. Well, some of them. Wooyoung’s incessant need for you. San and his flirting- his dimples. Yeosang’s cute little lisp and the sound of him tapping away on his keyboard. Hell you even missed hearing Mingi fuck others and keeping you awake at night. You might even miss Jongho’s constant scowl in your presence.

Seonghwa had been taking you to and from the club every night, five nights a week, and would tell you to rest the other two. You wouldn’t come into the office but now you wanted to. Maybe then you could do something about this odd bundle of emotions in your stomach. Yeosang sent you instructions on how to fill out a report of your undercover work on the program he installed in your laptop, which automatically stored the vital information and categorized and compared it with the rest. So in short, now you couldn’t even tell them about the new rumors you’ve picked up at the club.

At least now you knew why they were so busy, far too busy for you. The Vipers and the Wolves were still at each other’s throat, fucking up cash grabs, stealing product, or raiding known businesses of the other. San told you he was cleared to head back to fighting soon, and it worried you that the Wolves would hit the fighting ring while he was there.

But, what could you do about it? Undercover work was something that took months to years to gain enough influence to make a difference. You were nothing more than a fly on the wall gathering information, searching for weaknesses to use against the big players. A slip up that could get them behind bars.

Once more you thought of the dead boy in the alley. Once more you pictured someone else as that dead body. And once more you realized that, as a detective, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It was a frustrating feeling.

And that’s why you found yourself heading to the gym on your next free day, ready to punch the frustration out or work up enough of a sweat that your muscles would be screaming at you until tomorrow.

It was a nice sweet surprise to find Hongjoong there, working on one of the machines, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare arms and calves. He was wearing a hat, black tank and black gym shorts with an airpod in as he was chatting with someone. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you got close enough to hear his conversation, you frowned at how quick he hung up when he did notice you. “I’ll call you back later.” The weights dropped as he let go of the handles to turn the call off, shifting to look up at you with a bright and charming smile despite your deepening frown. “Firecracker, lovely to see you here.”

“Cut the bullshit” you weren’t having it today. Had the three weeks away changed something? Had your observations just been wishful thinking? Why was he hiding things from you? They still didn’t trust you fully did they? Ah, that hurt. Hongjoong seemed to catch on by your tone and stance, the smile softening to something more genuinely welcoming. “It was San, he was giving me an update on the Vipers I-” “Am I not allowed to hear what you had to say?” You cut him off, still staring him down. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, you really shouldn’t.

But Hongjoong seemed good at reading you, reaching out and holding his hand palm up. “Would it ease your mind to know what is going on? What he was telling me? Or can I ask you to trust me on this, and you can learn all about it later?” You stared at his hand for a moment, eyes running up his arm to the tattoos that covered his bicep. Briefly you glanced at the ink before meeting his eyes. “It’s a delicate matter?” You decided to ask, arms uncrossing to rest at your sides. “Yes. The war they have going on is turning into a bloodbath.” He didn’t elaborate, just smiled wider when you did take his hand finally. Gently he pulled you closer.

Relaxing a bit further, you let him. He didn’t need to explain, because you realized what he meant. The Vipers were losing everything, and the Wolves would take what they could from them. Killing, maiming, or selling off each member or even associate. “I see… what are we doing about it?” He lifted a brow at your choice of words, pulling you right between his knees and holding both of your hands. You don’t know why he insisted on this sort of touch, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Nothing we can do. We can’t pull San out safely, but there isn’t a way we can stop the Wolves either. Not without risking more. Did you come here to blow off some steam? Worried about him?” Slowly you nodded, staring at your joined hands. “I don’t want to punch anything, just not think. The Boas don’t care much for either, but I hear how ruthless the Wolves are. They’re scared of them much more than the Vipers and-” Your words were cut off as he pulled you onto his lap. “Captain?” “How do you think San can get out of this unscathed? I’m worried too, Firecracker, and even if we can’t do much, it’s better to have some hope that something can happen to save him. Right?” He was comforting you, wasn’t he? The notion had your cheeks warming, mind shifting to the question. With everything you knew, what needed to happen for San to be truly safe from the Wolves? “I… well the Vipers are no match for the Wolves alone but if they had help… then San’s chances of- well you know. The Guardians are the only ones who can stop the Wolves, but I don’t see how they would get involved. Not unless this war causes significantly more damage, or they believe it will.” Your original thought was the Guardians getting rid of the Wolves anyways. After all, the more you learned about them, the more you realized that the biggest, scariest monster out there was the Wolves. The Vipers would be easier to take down, same with the Goblins. The Golden Circle could just be bought out, most of them just greedy cowards. And the Guardians and Pirates? They cared more for regulation to an extent than chaos.

The Wolves enjoy being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Sadists, killers, men who wanted to see the world burn and wanted to be the hands responsible for it. People were toys to them. Ones they wanted to break and use any way they saw fit.

You’d rather see San with his busted lip and black eye from a fight in the ring rather than the possible torture the Wolves would put him through. “The Wolves won’t stop until every last Viper is dead or turned to them or sold. I’d rather the Vipers win, and that can't happen without the Guardians. Either working together or the Guardians step in to apply pressure to the Wolves to back them off.” Hongjoong’s sudden bright smile threw you off and you were on your feet in a second. “What?” He chuckled, just to pull you back down with enough force you tumbled into him, hands on his chest and lips suddenly on his. He swallowed up your squeak, pulling you fully onto his lap as his tongue sought yours. You hadn’t expected it, but he tasted so good that you didn’t want to pull away. Yet as soon as melted into him, he was separating your mouths. “You really are a genius, I think. That’s something we never thought of.” You blushed at his compliment, staring up at him as his fingers carded through your hair. “What ideas did you have?” “Ones that involved what the Vipers alone could do, or we as detectives. Sometimes we forget to take a step back and see all this from a different angle.” “I see… but can we really do anything like that?” He shrugged. “We could have Wooyoung or San suggest it. If the Vipers are smart, and want to survive, they’ll latch onto that idea hopefully before it’s too late.” Pride swelled through you, as well as respect. Hongjoong did respect you, to go from easing your worries, to turning your thoughts into something productive, and then backing your idea as an equal. All while he was kissing you, touching you, melting you in his arms like you were his lover.

“Captain-” “Please call me Hongjoong, or something like that outside the office. Especially when you’re in my arms like this.” He stopped you, arm tightening on your waist while his other hand massaged your scalp a bit. He chuckled at the pleased sound you made at the touch.

“H-Hongjoong… did Seonghwa- ah Hwa- tell you about…” You trailed off, eyelids getting heavy the more you relaxed in his embrace. He nodded. “S-so you know how much this means to me?” “I do, Firecracker. And he told you how things work, and his unofficial invitation?” When you nodded, his hand tightened in your hair enough to pull an unexpected moan from your lips. “I’m going to take how pliant you are in my arms as an acceptance of that if you keep this up. Wooyoung might be the most vocal about his desire for you, but I feel it just as intensely.” Your hands gripped his tank tightly, lips parted as you enjoyed the way he was getting a bit rough with your hair. Massage, then tug. Smooth then tug harder. “Then why pull me onto your lap?” “To treasure you, though I didn’t think you would let me.” He admitted, shifting you on his thighs a bit until you could feel his hard on against the side of your thigh. “Yeosang is going to get another show at this rate.” Laughing under your breath softly, you shifted on his lap. “Good. I’m not too happy about him telling you all about San and Chan. He likes to watch and then run his mouth to you all? I should show him what he��s going to miss because he’s always hiding behind those screens.” Detaching yourself from Hongjoong, you stood back up between his legs, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders to card your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, just under the cap. Latching your lips onto his to keep him from questioning you, your mind wandered to Yeosang and the expressions he made when he had been watching you and Wooyoung. Would he make those now? Better yet… What expressions would Hongjoong make?

With your lips still attached, brushing over his soft ones, letting him chase yours with each stroke, your hands ran down his chest. His shirt stuck to him with damp sweat, muscles tensing under your fingertips: first over his pecs, which had a nice curve to them, and then over his stomach. The lower they got, the more desperate his lips on yours.

The sound he made, the breathy whine as you cupped his sizable bulge in his shorts, turned you on even more. So eager to see just how far you could push him.

In a way, this was your first time initiating with them. As you slipped down onto your knees, palming at his hardening cock through the material of his shorts, you acknowledged the fact he hadn’t asked for this, or done much to make you want him: you just wanted him, and wanted to do this. Wooyoung had begged and begged. And Mingi had wanted to prove to you how much he wanted you. You just let them have the opportunity, reaping the ecstasy they gave you. And as much as you loved taking what they had to offer, you wanted to give back as well. In particular to the man before you. The man who was trying so hard not to pull your hair too much. Who was gripping the seat beneath him as his hips rolled up into your hands, pretty lips parted and swallowed from your kisses.

If Hongjoong had turned you away, or tried to block you at every turn like you had expected him to do before meeting him, you wouldn’t have this growing warmth in your heart at every thought of them. The swell of pride at your ongoing work. You wouldn’t have a confidant in San and Seonghwa. Wouldn’t have the eager lovers Wooyoung and Mingi. The witty banter of Yunho and Yeosang.

And perhaps, pressing your lips to where you could feel his tip twitching beneath the material, you wanted to convince them that they had to have you, just as you had to have them.

Selfish, greedy, maybe a little manipulative: that’s what you thought of yourself as you pulled his shorts down enough to expose his cock, staring up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Maybe you were all those things, but it was worth it as he tightened his hold on your strands significantly and pulled you against his cock, smearing the bit of precum and sweat on your lips and cheek, pleading with you. “Take what you want, gorgeous, I’m yours to use.”

How could you deny him- deny yourself- when he looked so delectable like this? 

Taking the invitation for what it was, your tongue ran up his length as your hands worked his pants down further. His words rang in your head, the adoration mixed with lust in his expression adding to the pit of emotions coursing through you.

With your lips wrapping around his tip, eyes focused on his expression, you marveled at the warm metal now clicking against your teeth. Quickly you pulled away and glanced down, breath hitching at the metal bar on the underside of his tip, right through the soft flesh in between the twi curves of his hood. “Oh fuck-” Mingi and him? Different places but you could remember how the piercing felt… if you took Hongjoong inside, you’d feel the metal scraping against your walls and the thought had you dripping in your underwear.

Wanting him to want that just as much, you took him back in your mouth, humming as you quickly took as much of him as you could. His eyes rolled back momentarily, breath hitching and fingers curling in your hair. He could fuck your mouth right now and you’d let him.

You’d let him do a lot of things if he continued to let out sweet whines like the one that just fell from his pretty lips. He wasn’t small, but definitely not Mingi’s size. But Hongjoong never needed size to get his point across, or for you to notice him- there was much more about him and the man utilized that to command a room and gain a grip on anyone he wished. 

Right now you were the one in his grip, both figuratively and literally, as you pushed his shorts down and spread his thighs wider. Shuffling a bit closer, you took more of him in, humming around his cock once more as it hit the back of your throat, nose so close to his pelvis, but you managed. The sweat didn’t bother you, neither did the feel of the hard floor under your knees, not when he seemed to be unraveling at your touch. You were enjoying him so much you swore you could suck him off for hours without a reprieve. So what if your throat was sore? If you were tasting his cum and sweat for hours after with every drink and food you devoured? Pressing your tongue up as you pulled off his length, sure to add even more pressure to the piercing and was rewarded with a whiny moan as his body reacted: hips bucking and hand tightening in your hair to hold you still.

Oh so it made him sensitive?

Bobbing your head back down, taking as much of his length as you felt comfortable with, you focused more attention on his tip. Every time you pulled away you added pressure, letting your teeth scrape against it or twisting your head just enough as you pushed back down.

Hongjoong was noisy, between high pitched pants, to low curses under his breath, his fingers in your hair a give away to what he liked best. You used that to your advantage, nails digging into the inside of his thighs when you realized he liked that.

“Ah- fuck- gorgeous- Gunna make me- mmm fuck fuck~” His head kept rolling back but he would push forward to watch you as much as he could, mouth hanging open, teeth clenching in little hisses of pleasure. You hummed and moaned around his cock, picking up pace and pressure as your own need was clouding your thoughts. Have him cum first then maybe you could convince him to fuck you in the showers.

Your nails dug into his thighs more when he started pushing you, just slightly as if guiding, down on his cock. His head rolled back again, moans gaining volume as your name and praise joined the sweet sounds.

In awe of him you nearly choked when his thick cum hit the back of your throat in spurts. You pushed away a bit, lips still latched onto his twitching tip as he emptied his pretty balls on your tongue.

He lifted his head once he was spent, panting heavily and meeting your gaze. He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop, your tongue lolling out to show the bit of cum still pooled there before you made a show of swallowing it.

“Fuck, Firecracker… I didn’t expect you to do this.” He smoothed out your hair, your scalp a little sensitive from how hard his grip had been.

Smiling, you rested your head on the inside of his knee, smoothing over the crescent marks you had made with your nails and admiring the piercing on his softening cock. “I wanted to. Wanted to show I want you too. I know I wasn’t as… vocal about it. Maybe with work but not in this way.” You tilted your head to look up at him, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. “If you have time… would the showers be private enough? I think Yeosang got enough of a show.” He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face before gently tapping your cheek. “I should. Stand up for me?” 

Once you did you watched as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Now you had a moment to admire the work on his arm, you liked learning about them and most people got tattoos that represented a part of them. Plus, tattoos were big in the underworld, often a way to show your rank or who you belonged to.

You noted a few portraits, black rimmed hats and masks, the eyes sharp. There were eight, you counted, surrounded by waves with… with a pirate boat detailed on the upper part of his arm. 

He called your name, moving just as you took note of a few letters on his arm. Sex was no longer on your mind, your brow furrowed as your mouth fell open to speak the first question that formed instead.

But the words were overshadowed by an alarm ringing through the gym and Hongjoong cursing. “Fuck- there’s an emergency.” He quickly pecked your cheek. “Head back to your apartment and wait for a call? I’ll let you know when everything’s okay.” He started grabbing his other things, but you were in shock.

The alarm turned off once he was gone but you were still rooted in place.

From the letters you had been able to make out, two of them had been “B” and “P”, just like Mingi had. 

Were they part of the Black Pirates? Were they… the enemy?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 17

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: You made a decision that you seriously hope you won't regret. That, or that it won't kill you first.

chapter warnings: self-harm (in a non-suicidal way), major character death, graphic descriptions of violence, angst

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

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There are many things that have led to this very moment and you can’t say that you are very pleased with the turn of events, but sometimes you need to take on responsibilities that you don’t really want to. 

Like leaving Felix without saying goodbye. 

You genuinely cry in the car the entire car ride. You think a couple of selfish, self-pitying thoughts. Why did it have to be me? Why do I have to be the responsible one? Why couldn’t I have just gone along with this new, picture perfect life, and let Felix carry me away into the sunset? Of course, of course you want to escape and be happy. But you hold yourself to a higher standard and sense of morality than that, and you just can't let everybody else suffer while you get away scot free. 

You realize the sense of danger that you’re in. The hardest part of it all, however, is not being able to say goodbye to Felix before you leave. Deep down, you think that he would have let you go but he would have wanted to come with you, and even scarier is the thought of something happening to him because of your own reckless decision making. You’re glad that you were able to have one night with him without the looming anxiety of getting caught. 

You just hope that Felix is able to forgive you no matter how this plays out. 

Before you get to your destination, you decide to make a pitstop. You’ve been thinking about what story you want to tell and how you can use your words to your advantage. You stop at the gas station to pull over into the restroom to look at yourself in the mirror. Although you look a little frail, mostly all of your wounds and bruises from all of your past endeavors have completely healed up. That’s a little bit unfortunate for what you plan to do, however. 

The first thing you do is completely mess up your hair. Rustling and tustling it almost to an unrecognizable degree, you make sure that there’s at least a million knots in it before trying to make it look presentable again (the task is impossible). Next, you tear at your clothes, putting rips in your sleeves and your leggings. Thinking for a moment, you laugh at the ridiculousness of what you’re about to do before letting yourself fall to the bathroom floor, the tiles scraping against your hands and knees and making them bleed. 

You re-examine yourself, and while it’s a lot better than what you came in with, you still felt like it wasn’t quite enough. Taking a deep breath, you punched the grimy mirror in the gas station bathroom, watching as it shattered into big shards and fell to the floor. You cringed, knowing you were making quite a ruckus but at the same time it wasn’t likely that anybody would come check on you as there was nobody around for miles. There was just one more thing that would finish the look; taking one small shard of glass, you used it to split your bottom lip. Perfect. 

As you left the gas station and got back into the car, you rubbed some dirt on your face and arms just to make sure you looked as rough as you felt. You were probably only twenty or thirty minutes away at this point, so you needed to make sure that you finished your plan down to a T. 

You pull the car over, taking one last grounding breath and pulling the gun into the waistband of your leggings. On shaky legs, you walk to the door, hoping that the execution of the first part of this plan goes well. 

“I’m here to see Lee Heeseung, please tell him that Y/N L/N is here for him.” 

You don’t have to wait very long. Immediately you’re brought upstairs to see Heeseung and you request a private audience with him. You suppose that he grants your wish because of the waterworks that start flowing the second that he starts speaking to you. The tears come easy to you, you suppose, when you tell yourself to think of Felix instead, but it’s all just a ruse. 

“I made it out,” you manage to tell him. “I don’t really know what’s happened to me, but they took me from him, from J-Jung–” you can’t even manage to say his name. Not after everything that has happened, but this happens to work well in your favor. “They killed him. They’ve taken everything from me. They’ve been using me for months, and then finally, at the gala, I thought Jungwon was going to take me back, but we were still in a fight. He told me that if I could lure SKZ there that he would take me back and we would get back together, but I wasn’t expecting for them to kill him, Hee… please, don’t make me go back there,” you sob. 

Heeseung looks nothing less than confused. It’s clear that he’s been given just about ten different sides of the story, but now that Jungwon is dead there’s no way he can confirm it. There’s only one thorn in the side here… Woojin. But Woojin worked for SKZ first before he betrayed them, and in the technicalities of it all, you’ve known Heeseung for longer and you were the property of ENHA first. 

“They told me that you wanted to kill me after Jungwon died,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry. It feels like it’s my fault. Please don’t kill me, Heeseung, you have to believe me when I say I’ve been through so much. It’s not my fault. Bang Chan is such an evil man… I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Heeseung sat for a moment and thought about that. He passed a box of tissues across the table which you gratefully accepted, making a big show of dramatically blowing your nose. 

“I just can’t believe he’s really dead, you know? I just feel like none of this would have even happened if we hadn’t gotten into that fight in the first place. SKZ, they found me outside of the bar and I was unconscious and they took me, Hee. I had no choice.” The tears started up again. “And I tried to leave the first night, and they found me, but Bang Chan, he beat me and he locked me in my room…” 

Heeseung stood suddenly and you froze. You felt a wave of anxiety pass over you and you suddenly wondered if maybe things wouldn’t go the way that you had planned. 

“It seems like I’ve severely misunderstood how things have gone on your part. If you’re truly willing to offer up information, I think we might be willing to work something out between us. Can I offer you a glass of water?” 

You nod your head. As Heeseung leaves the room, you wipe your face and discard the tissue. You’ve made it work. You have really been able to play into the distressed and beaten girl card, and with your previous (though brief) encounter with Heeseung through ENHA, you have been able to tune into what little empathetic side he has. Now, this is truly the important part. Standing behind the door, you pull out the gun and turn off the safety. You’re truly thankful at this moment for the opportunity you had to train with Jisung, though your heart is beginning to thump wildly in your chest. You will your hands to stop trembling, as you know you only have one shot. 

The door cracks open and you see a glimpse of Heeseung’s face before you take aim and fire, watching as Heeseung slumps to the ground. The water spills ungracefully. You hit him square in the face so it only took one shot, so there is no doubt about the fact that he is dead. With a shaky breath you apologize, because it only feels right to calm the aching guilt that overwhelms your chest, before you leave his office. Nobody comes in to check on him. With the loud noise from the bar and the business that takes place around here, you’re sure it’s not an abnormal ambiance. Plus, he might have given his guards a warning since you were on his kill list. That was exactly what you were counting on. 

As you hurry down the hallway overhead the bar, you spot a window that gives you the perfect opportunity to hop down to the first floor and give you the escape you need. You see something out of the corner of your eye however, or someone that hasn’t seemed to notice you yet. In a split second, you have made a decision. Though this strays from your plan, there’s no doubt about it that in making a decision now, you’re tying up a lot of loose ends in the long run. 

Quietly, you sneak up behind him, grabbing the man from behind and pulling him into an empty room. When he feels the cool metal of the gun pressed up against his head, he does not struggle. 

“What the hell, man, take it easy!” Woojin cries. 

“I will not be taking it easy,” you hiss from behind him, your elbow coming around his throat to secure him into a headlock. It is at that moment that it clicks into place for Woojin who it is that is threatening him and his body goes slack, as if relieved. 

“Y/N,” he laughs. “It looks like our little mouse has finally left her cage! How fun.” 

“I wouldn’t feel so at ease if I were you,” you tell him. “I quite literally have a gun to your head right now.” 

“Right,” he practically coos. “Why should I think that you would actually kill me?” 

With a large swing, you bash the side of the gun into his head. He nearly crumbles in your arms but you hold him up by his throat. He whines in pain. 

“I am sick of people underestimating me,” you spit. “And while I might feel a little bit of remorse for killing Lee Heeseung, I will look back on killing you fondly.” 

He sucks in a breath at that. 

“You didn’t,” he says. 

“I did,” you reply, saccharine sweet. You throw him to the ground so you can have a chance to look down on him one last time. “I do have one thing to thank you for, Woojin. Thanks for helping me to realize how weak I was. If it weren’t for you, there’s no way I would be able to do this.” 

You shoot him. 

The feeling is different. You don’t want to call it satisfying, because that just seems wrong. But you are proud of yourself, in a sick and twisted sense. You have successfully carried out stage 1 of your operation. 

You grab a few things from the bar before you leave. Some supplies, some water. Security is surprisingly lax. It’s almost laughable that ENHA was the sworn enemy of SKZ; maybe things have seriously gone downhill since Jungwon died. Maybe nobody expects someone who looks like you, ‘beaten’ and frail to come in so easily and derail their organization from the inside, but then again, you have been training with SKZ for the past couple of months. 

When you get back to your car, you let out a sigh of relief. What a big weight that has been lifted off of your shoulders. If stage 2 of your operation goes according to plan, then you have just made things very easy for yourself in the future. Lee Heeseung no longer wants to kill you, and ENHA is basically out of the picture, along with Woojin. Unfortunately, that was the easier side of the coin to deal with. 

You’re not exactly sure how to deal with Chan, because you’re just unsure of how a conversation is going to settle things. On the other hand you could stage a coup with the other members but it just doesn’t seem feasible enough to get in contact with all of them without his knowledge.

You also have no idea how to get into the house without alerting him of your presence. 

You end up parking about a mile away. You have plenty of time to think on the walk over but mostly you try to calm your nerves. You find that to be a trend a lot lately. As you approach the house, dawn is starting to encroach, a rude red color plaguing the sky that makes you feel a little uneasy. Moreso, you recognize that something is amiss when you see a motorcycle right in front of the house, tire tracks skidding down the path that leads to the main road. Whoever was on the motorcycle didn’t bother to use the bike stand, instead opting to shove it on its side as if they were in a hurry. 

The front door of the SKZ house is wide open. You’re left with a pit in your stomach that something is horribly, horribly wrong. 

You don’t walk through the front door, instead choosing to walk to the side of the house. You find one of the many windows that allow you to look into Chan’s room, choosing to peek into one of them that is slightly open. Using your strength, you push it open inch by inch so that nobody will hear or notice the difference. When you finally look inside, you realize that you are now listening to a conversation that you shouldn’t be. 

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about. I never took advantage of you,” Chan reasons to someone. “I was simply helping you all along. You never realized what you needed and I helped you. I was there for you and I took care of you. Do you not remember? You were able to accomplish your mission and I was there for you, I stood by your side. I was there for you when your parents died, I gave you a purpose in life and took care of you, and now you are to stand by me and be there for me. It’s what you owe me, and instead you go behind my back and take advantage of me. To me, that seems like absolute betrayal of the highest end, do you not understand?” 

“I am not going behind your back,” says a deep voice that you recognize right away. Felix. He’s here right now. Immediately your heart squeezes, knowing that he must have left right away to go looking for you. He put himself in danger and he could’ve gotten himself killed while you were dealing with Heeseung–you didn’t even think of that possibility. Even moreso, you’re overhearing a conversation that’s insanely vulnerable and personal, and while you want to turn away, you know that you need to give yourself this opportunity to interject if needed and protect him. You stay. “Y/N is not an object, she is not either of ours to fight over, Chris. It’s not fair of you to use our past as a way to manipulate me about this.”

“Do you not understand and appreciate everything that I’ve done for you?” Chan asks. “Everything that I’ve done for everyone here?”

“Of course I do, Chris, but for how long? How long are you going to keep holding that over me? The person who killed my parents is dead. I’ve been over it for a long time. How long are you going to keep stringing me along? Will there ever be an end?” 

You climb in through the window, gun in hands. You think you’re being quiet enough. You close an eye, taking aim, continuing to listen to the conversation. 

“Felix, there was never going to be an end. You know that, right? Surely you were never that dumb.” 

“What?” Felix blinks at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y/N!” Chan calls your name and you nearly trip. You take a step forward, aim unwavering. That’s when you realize that Felix is sitting on the floor, slumped over. He seems to be injured, his hand grasping his side and his breathing unsteady. 

“There has to be an end,” you tell him. Chan looks at you, big eyes blinking and mouth parted in a little ‘o; shape. 

“And you think that will end right now? You’re going to shoot me right here?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

Chan looks at you, then at Felix, then at you. “I’m surprised,” he says. “And a little hurt.” 

This makes you falter for just a second, which is all the time he needs to cross the room. He disarms you in a second flat. His arms are around your body, his breath is in your ear. 

“I’ve realized something,” he whispers. “Do you know that I love you?”

Of course, you knew this. Woojin clocked it since the gala, the way he had been acting towards you. And of course, there was the fact that he had asked to take you on a date, the possessive behavior, the fact that he locked you up so that you would fall in love with him eventually instead of Felix. You had predicted this from a mile away, but you didn’t expect for him to admit it so bluntly. Not like this, not as a manipulation tactic when you came here with one goal in mind. 

“You can’t say that, Chan,” you tell him. 

“I do,” he admits. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you since day 1.”

“Is that supposed to make everything right?” you tell him. “You’ve fucked up, Chan. There is absolutely nothing you can do to make things right now. You have hurt me, you have hurt the people that I care about, and you are a violent and manipulative person.” 

“What are you trying to say?” he asks, lowering his voice. 

“I don’t love you back,” you tell him, finality in your voice. “I’m sorry, but I never can.” 

“Is it because you love him instead?” he asks, pointing at Felix. 

“That’s not the only reason,” you say, frustrated. “I don’t know how else to make you understand.”

“But you do,” he points out. “Love him.” 

“I do, but–” 

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Chan sighs. He pulls out the very same gun that you were going to use against him, putting it in your hands. His own hands clasp over yours, holding on tight. He aims the gun at Felix. 

“Chan, what are you doing? Please, stop!” you cry out, panicked. You squirm against his grasp but his hold on the gun is firm. 

“Felix, do you know why there was never going to be an end to all of this?” Chan asks. Felix shakes his head limply. “Because you never actually killed the man who put the order out against your parents all those years ago. In any sense, neither of our missions are done.” 

“Chris, what are you talking about?” Felix asks with gritted teeth. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you, mate? I put out the order. I killed your parents. I found you, I recruited you, and I helped you to find your purpose here. So your noble mission to avenge your parents that ended years ago never really happened,” Chan explains. Though you don’t really know the full story, you feel sick to your stomach. “I was never going to tell you, but I might as well since I’m going to kill you now myself anyways. It’s a little bittersweet after having you as my right-hand man for all these years, but you do crazy things in the name of love.” 

You feel his hands tighten around the trigger. You jerk slightly at the last moment, screaming as the trigger goes off. You just hope that it was enough to not do any serious damage. You can’t help the sob that escapes your lips. All you wanted was for Felix to stay safe, and after everything his downfall might be your fault. The gun drops to the floor and skids across the floor and you drop to your knees, scurrying to pick it up before you feel a tight grasp around your waist, hoisting you up to your feet. The grasp settles around your throat, holding you tightly from behind. 

“You still want to shoot me that bad, huh?” Chan asks. “Do you think you have it in you?” 

“I don’t know,” you tell him. 

“Have you ever shot someone before?” he asks. 

“No,” you lie. You have nothing to prove to him at the moment. You want to focus on getting out of this chokehold, so you think back to your self-defense training with Changbin and Felix and focus on what your next steps should be. 

You lean your head forward, hoping to get as much momentum as you can for when you swing it backwards to catch it against Chan’s face, hard. You know that your head has connected right with Chan’s nose by the loud cracking sound it makes, and so you waste no time in turning around to knee him right in the groin. 

He seems very caught off guard by your sudden actions. 

Next, you push him backwards as hard as you can, knocking him off of his balance. You’re surprised that you were actually able to do this, given that it was more of a risky move. He doesn’t fall, but he takes a few steps backwards in order to right himself. In the meantime, you pull a long knife out of your hoodie pocket. Specifically, you made sure to grab this as a backup option before you left the ENHA bar. 

With a running start, you lodge the knife into his chest. He grabs your wrist, but you’re quick to remove his hand with your other hand. With both hands, you remove the knife and shove it back in again and again. 

“You can’t half-ass shoving a knife into someone–you have to do it with as much force as you can and into a vital spot. If you’re using a knife to protect yourself, you need to do it with the intent to kill. Best case-scenario, you’ll need to stab them multiple times in order to really do some damage,” Changbin had said. You could really thank him just about now. You had no idea just how much that piece of advice would come in handy.

When you look down at Chan, you’re not expecting him to laugh. Pale in the cheeks and hair already sticking to his face, you know that you’ve won. Still, you’re completely thrown off by his actions. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I really did love you, you know,” he tells you. “Maybe things would have worked out under different circumstances.” 

You really weren’t expecting him to say that. “Oh,” you say. 

“I would’ve just hurt you,” he says. “I’ve only ever hurt people. It’s the only thing I’ve been good at. I just wasn’t expecting for you to be the one to hurt me,” he chuckles. 

“Don’t make me feel worse about this,” you say, looking away. “This was your own doing–the only option you gave us. I don't want to sit here and have you make me feel like maybe all along you were this good person, or that maybe you deserved something better, because you don't. I hope you know that none of us wanted this. It had to end like this.” 

And with one last sputtering cough, Bang Chan closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again. You somehow feel like you have both won and lost at the same time, and you can’t help but feel that that is exactly as he had intended. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: aasdhj here it is! i hope nobody was expecting this!! <3 let me know your thoughts and the finale should be out within the next few days.

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@changbokkii ; @1810cl ; @sillyhal ; @abcdefgiwsmctyeliaitaiglykoh ; @justastraymoa

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Four

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.4K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence, descriptions of piano playing even though i don't know how to play piano

Series Masterlist

It had been three lessons, and she was still terrified of him. That was clear. Every time he pulled up his sleeves, she flinched.

Charles noticed every single time. What had she heard to make her fear him so? More importantly, what had Arthur told her?

It made the piano lessons incredibly difficult. Charles could play one song and it was only ten seconds long (he had been a little surprised when she first taught him to play happy birthday, but he went along with it, at least slow progress was being made).

The three lessons happened in the span of a week. In that week Charles had met with the Gasly family, reunited with his old friend Pierre, had collected the money from the other clubs (since Arthur had taken the drugs out of the lounge) and had attended her performances almost every night.

It was amazing, she was amazing. Charles didn't care if he sat there with an empty drink, just watching her. He didn't notice his glass was lacking, not when he couldn't pull his eyes away.

Charles never had a chance to daydream. He was forced to grow up early, was never able to let his imagination run wild. At twenty-six years old, Charles understood why. He understood why he was never allowed to daydream.

As he sat in the meeting with Lorenzo and Esteban Ocon. Esteban Ocon was a mystery in the mafia world. He was a normal kid, hadn't grown up in a mafia family Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo. It was a mystery how he got to this point.

Somehow, as a teenager, Esteban ended up under the employment of the Gasly family. He and Pierre became good friends, but that friendship soon ended. Nobody but Pierre and Esteban knew what happened between them, but guns were pointed at each other and Esteban had to flee. He ended up in Monaco, under the protection of the Leclercs.

Charles was staring at Esteban, clearly making him uncomfortable. But Charles didn't notice. He was too busy daydreaming, imagining being sat at that piano with her, the crowd before them clapping as they finished their song.

"Charles," Lorenzo began, but Charles didn't respond. He was still staring, a stupid, dopey smile on his face. "Charles, Charlie," Lorenzo tried again. He knew just how much he hated being called Charlie, but even that wasn't getting him to respond.

Lorenzo turned his attention to Esteban. "Did he take something?"

But Esteban shrugged his shoulders and leaned across the table to snap his fingers in front of Charles's face. Charles flinched away from him, blinking rapidly as he sat up straighter. "What the fuck?"

"Are you concentrating now?"

Charles glared across the table. "Yes, I'm concentrating," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

But still, it was hard to concentrate as the meeting went on. Charles couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to her. He stopped imaging the crowd watching them. Just them, sat around the piano. enjoying each other.

"You know Verstappens boy, don't you?" Asked Lorenzo.

Charles nodded his head. He knew Max incredibly well. They were best friends when they were kids, before Jos became the head of the Verstappen Family. It had been a good few years since they had seen each other last, but Charles doubted anything would change.

"Stay on Max's good side and maybe Jos won't try and kill us," Lorenzo muttered. "Get ready to meet them tomorrow. Don't take guns, but be ready to fight if you have to. And take Arthur with you," he said, ready to dismiss them.

"Arthur? No way. He's still got a fucking gunshot wound in his arm," Charles threw back at his brother. He sat back in his chair, staring at Lorenzo. "Why can't Esteban come with me?"

"Because Max hates me," said Esteban.

"I'm not taking Arthur."

"You're taking Arthur. And that's final."

Lorenzo finally dismissed them. He sent them out of his office, turning his attention to the papers in front of him. Charles was the first out of the room. He stood up with such force that his chair fell back. Esteban followed him out of the office, falling into step behind him. "I can come if you want," he said. "I can sneak around and make sure that nothing bad happens to your brother," he offered.

Charles shook his head. "There's no sneaking around with Jos," he replied. "He'll kill you without hesitation."

He climbed into his car and quickly drove off. Esteban was one of the only friends he had in this world. It was lonely, but Esteban made it a little easier.

Charles didn't know where he was driving to. He was heading somewhere, his mind too consumed to know where. Thank God the people of Monaco knew to get out of his way.

When did he arrive at the lounge. He sat in the car for a minute, just staring at the building. He wasn't there for sanctuary, for comfort. He was there to confront her.

He was angry, but it wasn't at her. His anger was nothing to do with her, but he couldn't do anything to fix the reason why he was angry. He could do something about her.

He pushed the doors open, walking into the lounge. "Mr Leclerc," she called, standing from the piano stall.

That just fuelled Charles's anger. She watched as he stormed over to her, his jaw clenched. Her back was against the piano as he climbed the stairs and walked across the stage.

He stood so close until she was consumed by him. Every breath she took was him. And she was terrified. "I thought I told you to call me Charles," he said, his voice low.

How she wasn't shaking, she didn't know. "Mr Leclerc, please," she whispered, trying to get away.

Charles grabbed the piano lid, trapping her between his strong arms. "Why are you so scared of me?"

She opened her mouth, but no words left her lips.

His arms tensed and he pressed himself closer. "Tell me. Now."

"Please," she whispered, trying to get away from him. "Mr Leclerc, Charles, please." But she couldn't get away from him. It was too much, far too much, and she had to get away.

Charles hadn't expected her to push him. He didn't expect her to press her hands against his chest and push. But she did. She pushed him away and he stumbled back. "No way," he said, a grin crossing his face.

"I'm not scared of you," she said, standing strong (even if it was a lie).

And Charles knew it was a lie. He pulled his gun from his waistband, watched as her face fell, and put it on the floor. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Slowly, he walked toward her again, like she was a startled animal. This time, she didn't flatten herself against the piano. As he sat on the bench, she moved away from him, standing beside the piano as he pressed his fingers against the keys.

Charles had dreams like this. Her against the piano as he played. It wasn't something impressive, just happy birthday, but she sang along.

At the end of the ten second song, Charles stopped. "I don't want you to be afraid of me," he said. I know what I've done, I know what you've probably heard, but I promise, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Because you need me to teach you piano?"

His hand touched hers, where it rested against the top of the piano. "Yeah," he answered and swallowed thickly. "Yeah, because I need you to teach me piano." At this part in his dream, she would reach for his tie and pull him close, kissing him.

But, in reality, she pulled her hand away from his. She quickly walked away from the piano and off the stage. She disappeared into one of the back rooms, and slammed the door shut behind her.

Charles fists slammed down onto the piano. It was a miracle it didn't break. "Fuck!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the lounge.

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[bisexualbard-writes]

KimChay prompt

I give you: Soulmate AU

Everyone has a timer in their wrist that shows how many days your soulmate has left to live

For Chay the timer changes every day but the number of days is never more than one year. Chay is very, very concerned for his soulmate and the kind of life he is living.

For Kim, he's convinced that his soulmate is also part of the Mafia or something worse because his timer is just weird. This morning his soulmate had over 50 years left, but something happened between 9am and 9:25am so now his soulmate is gonna die by the end of the week! Then, before lunch his timer changes again and Kim's soulmate will live for another 89 years

How do you think Kim would react to Chay? Just normal, kind, brave, zero situational awareness Chay who hasn't realized how many times he's been about to die

Also Helloo Hiiii how are you?

Hiiiiii, Hellooooo, I'm doing okay other than all this writer's block haha. Onto the timer soulmates!!

Kim wakes up in unfamiliar territory and nearly jolts up before he realizes the uncomfortable feeling below him is a pullout couch and the comforting weight on top of him is Chay.

His maybe-probably soulmate. 

Warmth spreads across his cheeks when he realizes they spent all night pressed up against each other like this. Trying not to jostle Chay, Kim checks his watch. The time, 7:00AM, is expected for his internal body clock. Then he pulls down the wristband on his watch and checks his timer, 20:05:03:23:15, which is not expected. 

Twenty years? When he fell asleep last night, the boy in his arms had fifty some odd years left to live, and this morning it’s down to twenty? 

The timer changes sometimes, everyone’s does. The mechanics are still a bit of a mystery to the world, but it’s a guarantee that when a timer runs out, that person’s soulmate dies. It seems like Kim’s timer fluctuates more than other people’s, but Chay hadn’t led the safest life even before he started hanging out with the third son of Thailand’s biggest mafia family. 

Actually, when Kim suspected Chay’s magnetic pull was more than just a simple crush on Kim’s part, he made a phone call ensuring all the Kittisawat debts were paid off and any loan sharks in the area knew Chay was protected.

On that day Kim’s timer jumped from a worrisome ten years to a more comfortable fifty.

That would have been more than enough for most people to prove they were soulmates, but Kim maintains a healthy amount of doubt. Or denial rather. 

He doesn’t want Chay tied to him. His little intervention took a whole week of planning to make the orders look like they were coming from someone other than Kim. He doesn’t want his family finding out Chay is important, it’s  too dangerous for Chay to get involved with them. This morning is proof of it, their deepening relationship is taking decades off of Chay’s life. 

The boy in his arms begins to stir, and then stills suddenly. The corner’s of Kim’s lips twitch up when he feels Chay’s breaths quicken as he likely realizes he’s sleeping half on top of Kim, and then forcibly slow down again. 

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” Kim finds himself asking. He hadn’t even planned to break their peaceful silence, but he’s a little obsessed with Chay and desperate to understand what goes on in his mind. 

Chay answer about barely believing any of this is real is like a knife to Kim’s heart, because it’s not. Kim is hiding so many things from him. He hasn’t even mentioned to Chay his thought that they might be soulmates, and that’s the least of the things Kim is keeping from him. 

Chay unknowingly twists that knife when he looks up at Kim with his big, lovely eyes and asks Kim if he loves Chay. He’s never looked at the timer on Chay’s timer, but he thinks it probably just lost a decade of time. 

He doesn’t respond to Chay’s question, instead sending him off to fetch breakfast for them. 

Kim should leave, he tells himself as Chay cooks. He should leave and never return. It’s better to know Chay is out in the world without him, than have to live in a world where Chay is dead because Kim was greedy with him. 

When the doorbell rings, Kim makes his decision. He’ll slip out while Chay isn’t looking, and never come near him again. 

Then he hears Chay scream, and walking away isn’t an option. 

He fights tooth and nail, but he let his guard down too much and he’s not prepared to fight. Chay’s cries have made him frantic and erratic, and he knows he’s leaving holes in his defenses. Just as he’s starting to get his fighting brain turned on he gets tazed. It hurts like a bitch but he keeps going, fighting back as he gets tazed again. 

He goes down. The last thing he sees is Chay helplessly splayed on the ground. 

When he wakes up Chay is gone. 

Kim’s timer reads 00:00:05:08:15. 

Five days. 

If Kim does nothing, Chay will die in five days. 

He won’t let his happen. 

He picks up the phone and dials the number he swore he’d never call for help again. 

Kim watches the seconds tick away on his timer with as the call rings. 

“Kim?” Kinn asks curtly when he picks up. 

Kim takes a deep breath. “I need help,” he utters. 

His timer jumps. 89:03:12:06:45

[kenobers]

Gangs of Coruscant | mobster!Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

Chapter One: Dire Straits

but first free palestine !! The 23-year-old reader gets a fresh start in Coruscant after landing a sign language interpreter gig at one of the biggest hospitals in the galaxy. However, that plan flatlines after reader's attempts to be punctual land her somewhere she really really shouldn't be, where she sees something she really really shouldn't see. As luck would have it, that something just so happens to be the business of the most terrifying (and strikingly handsome) man in the city. tw: Mafia!AU, mentions of guns, drugs & violence, being held against one's will & non-sexual coercion (but not maliciously?), older manDisclaimer: Yes, this is a romanization of the concept of the mafia, but it is also a fictionalization based on the structure of the Jedi Order. No character in this story is based on any real life mobster and no plot point is based on an actual organized crime story. I am aware that most crime lords do not look like Obi-Wan Kenobi nor am I encouraging anyone to actually try and get with a made man (or woman). Please direct all complaints to Marty Scorsese. God Bless.

There was no way you were keeping this job.

You showed up late to orientation, much to the disapproval of the hospital director. Now you had completely missed your first official day. It wasn’t for lack of trying, honestly. The bus had arrived late on orientation day. When a kind older gentleman told you this was a common occurrence, you decided you could carve out extra time for the twenty-five minute walk. 

Then you missed a turn. Then another. Then you’d discovered you left your wallet at home and that your phone had, in fact, not charged overnight. Then you took a chance on a bus. Then ended up on an entirely different side of Coruscant. 

That had all been seven hours ago, when the sun was still up. The infamous neon lights of the central city were now a distant glow, taunting you from miles away. So much for being a sign language interpreter, you thought bitterly, so much for a brand new life in Coruscant. Not only were you going to lose the job you moved to this enormous city for, you might just lose your life. Oh, well. At least that was the worst that could happen. 

This side of the city was…there was no other word for it, shady. It was made up of graying warehouses and shipyards, abandoned by workers who had long since headed home. The few people you came across didn’t give the impression they wanted to be bothered. Not that your anxiety would’ve allowed you to try. Or at least it wouldn’t have an hour ago, before the hunger headache set in. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been cutting through the damn labyrinth of empty warehouses when you finally came across one with the lights on. The grimy windows dulled the sickly yellow shine, but it seemed like the most cliche sign from God.

You stopped before the aging building, weighing the thought of going in. A man’s laugh sounded from inside, making you jump. The news headline, “CORUSCANT’S MAFIA FAMILIES SPREAD THEIR POWER THROUGHOUT THE CITY” flashed in your mind. The words ‘brutal’, ‘ruthless’ and ‘violent’ had made appearances in the first paragraph. There had been a picture attached; a blurry image of two or three men slipping out of the senate building, a winged insignia sewn onto a leather jacket, a different flash of red against white fabric. 

To be fair, you hadn’t seen the symbol anywhere. You’d even read that the extent of the mob was overplayed by conspiracy theorists, driven by the myth of a couple of notorious figures. What was the chance you would actually come across someone ‘brutal’ and ‘ruthless’. The place looked like a shot out of GoodFellas, but a bus had brought you here. It looked like it was a busy area in the morning. It was too obvious. And more than anything, you were desperate now. It at least had to be worth poking your head in. 

Cautiously you approached the open door, took a breath and peered in. A shaggy haired young man leaned against a pillar, still laughing. 

“It’s not even that funny!” a young female voice shouted, although you could tell she was restraining her own giggles. Your eyes strained to see where the sound was coming from. Probably late night dock workers, you figured with relief.

‘Hello’ died on your lips and resurrected as a gasp when you laid your eyes on the large pile of spice and blasters in the middle of the floor. The man snapped his head towards you. You caught a glimpse of a nasty scar adorning his right eye and a set of white wings on the shoulder of his black jacket.

Terrified, you stumbled back into the shadows before he could get a good look at you. You backed away blindly, willing your fight or flight to take the wheel. 

Just as you were about to turn around, the rich scent of amber and vanilla filled the air and an unseen arm wrapped itself around your chest from behind. A large hand covered your mouth as you screamed, leaving the taste of a leather glove on your lips. Your back was pulled flush against a broad chest, the butt of a blaster prodding the small of your back.

Your fight or flight officially turned to lead as the weight of impending doom crushed your reflexes. 

“You’ve been lurking around here all night,” a smooth, accented voice murmured in your ear. The warm breath on your neck made you shiver. In any other situation, it might’ve excited you. “Who sent you, young

one?”

You tried to shake your head, but the hand covering your mouth had moved to grasp your chin. 

“I-I’m lost,” you stuttered. “I-I didn’t mean t-to-to see anything, I-I’m just lost.” 

“Lost?” your captor mused. 

Tears pricked your eyes. He didn’t sound like he believed you. “I don’t-I don’t even know where I am.” 

He tilted your chin up, craning your neck to meet a piercing pair of blue eyes that light up in the darkness. The face above you couldn’t be more than 35-years-old. Despite the lack of lighting, you could make out well kept fair hair, complimented by a matching beard. He was handsome, strikingly so. Your brain went blank for a moment. 

“Obi-Wan, who is that?” a male voice called from the door of the warehouse. Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to his companion but yours stayed trained on him. 

“Someone saw something she shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan responded, looking back at you thoughtfully. He tapped your jaw and hummed, sending a vibration through you. Then he released your chin, only to tighten his grip on your shoulders. “Come with me.” 

You made no attempt to disobey as he led you into the warehouse. The scarred man waited by the doorway, his split eyebrow raised, evidently sharing in your confusion. You cringed under the intensity of his watch. His stance was relaxed, his arms were crossed, but he looked at you like he might lunge at any given moment. 

“This is what the alarm picked up?”

You winced as he gestured to you. He rolled his eyes and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.  

“Now Anakin, be nice to our guest.” 

He gave you a sarcastic, tightlipped smile before shoving his hand back in his pocket. 

You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you weren’t about to be tortured to death. Although you weren’t holding out hope; you’d been praying all day. 

Obi-Wan sat you in a folding chair, the cold metal burning through the thin fabric of your button-up. 

A young woman around your age with fiery red hair and two blue and white braids appeared from behind the pile of spice. You gathered that’s who you heard earlier. She watched you with wide interested eyes as she handed Obi-Wan another chair. 

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” he nodded. You sent her a pleading look, but she merely gave you a friendly smile before retreating to the other man. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and you snapped your attention back to him. He was even more handsome in good lighting. He looked…almost kind, even as he studied you with a straight face. His hair was auburn and each stand looked as though it had been meticulously placed. The creased lines peaking around his mustache told you he smiled a lot. His warm complexion didn’t give you the sense it was from sadism. His nose and cheekbones were as sharp as his crystal eyes, but his expression was soft, curious and understanding. The most unnerving aspect of his appearance was his white suit jacket, decorated with a red winged insignia on the shoulder. 

“Your symbol…” you muttered. A blurry photo of the crest on white fabric and black leather…next to the words, ‘brutal’, ‘ruthless’ and ‘violent’. You glanced over at Anakin, who had finally fished a cigarette from the pocket of his black leather jacket. Ahsoka, who was paying your situation no mind, typed away on her phone, the case decorated with the same emblem in sticker form. “There was a photo of you,” you breathed. The full realization of what exactly you’d waltzed into struck you upside the head. You reeled back frantically in your seat, “I-I read about you, I t-think. You’re, you’re-”

“Not going to hurt you,” he assured, sticking out his hand as if to pat you. You made a skeptical face. He looked amused at your apprehension. “What’s your name, darling?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Out of fear, of course. 

“(yn),” you whispered. 

“(yn),” he repeated like it was poetry. “And you’re lost. You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious,” you asked shyly, embarrassed. 

He cocked his head and shrugged. “No one dressed like you ends up this far past the Urscu district unless they’ve yet to get the hang of the buses, or they’re wearing this,” he pointed to the mafia crest on his jacket, “and considering your attire, I’m assuming it’s the former.” 

You couldn’t help it, you burst into tears. This man was toying with you. He was luring you into a false sense of security and forcing you to admit your own stupidity before he did away with you. He wasn't studying you, he was preying on you.

“I do-don’t know what happened, I-I just- are you fucking with me?”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, furrowing his eyebrows and blinking slowly. “Fucking with you?”

You tensed up again as you realized you might've just offended him. If you were taking a tone with a mob boss after all of day's events, then your poor excuse for survival skills belonged in some sort of lackluster hall of fame.  

“I-I’m sorry, I just meant, like-like-like, please, I-I just want to go home,” you begged, your breath stuttering. He sighed and stood, towering over you. 

“And you will,” the crime lord promised with a surprisingly gentle sincerity. He tilted your chin up, his thumb catching a stray tear. “But you’ve seen too much. I can’t just let you walk away.” 

Nausea twisted in your stomach. A million scenarios of what he could do to you, of what he could make you do, raced through your aching head. This man was sick. Talking to you like you were a lost child and not a potential snitch was just a means coax you into being compliant with whatever he had in mind.

The sensation of his glove against your skin was suddenly overwhelming your sense and you swore you could smell blood beneath the leather. The groves in the material began to spiderweb all over your face, the seam coming undone to close your mouth. No one was around, no one would hear you scream. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you pleaded with a sob, “Please, I promise I w-won’t say a thing, I’ll f-forget it.” 

“Take a breath,” he ordered, his tone briefly switching to that of a general. You obeyed, squeezing your eyes shut as he caressed your cheek again. 

He knelt beside you, softening his voice again. “You’ve given us no reason to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean we can trust you.” 

You nodded as if you understood. He continued. 

“Where do you live, darling?”

You sucked in another breath, “The Senate district, in the Millenium on Droid Street.” 

“Perfect,” he said. “We own a restaurant just around the block. We’re in need of a waitress.” 

You cracked your eyes open, suspicious. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We need to keep an eye on you,” he explained, standing up again. The way he looked down at you told you he’d be watching you one way or another. Given that you just lost your other job, you weren’t sure you had much of a choice. However, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the last waitress. “Unless you’d rather run drugs,” he added, pulling you out of your thoughts. You shook your head profusely. The blood started to smell like vanilla again.

“I think I can handle waitressing,” you accepted. Obi-Wan nodded, pulling you to your feet. He stuck out his hand. You hesitated for a moment, then your sweaty skin felt the lines of his leather gloves just once more for the rest of the night.

A rush of cold ran through you, flooding you with the feeling you’d just sealed your fate.

“Welcome to the family, (yn),” Obi-Wan smiled, patting you on the shoulder. “Now, let me take you home.” 

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 5.4k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

Two days.

Two days was all we had for preparations.

After my conversation with Chan yesterday, it was agreed upon that time was of the essence, especially with Jiho breathing down our necks. The time and place had been confirmed after a secondary call with Big Bang, the plan was set in motion, all we had to do was execute.

Seongho was quick in befriending each of the members last night. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d start to think they might actually like him better than me. 

When the sun had risen, Seongho wasted no time bounding over to my room from his guest bed, laying across me and groaning until I finally had stirred awake. 

"Get offffff" I choked out into my pillow, squirming under his body weight. With a chuckle he splayed his arms out to his side like a starfish, dispersing his weight farther across my body.

"Maybe if you weren't lazy we wouldn't be having this problem."

"So help me god if you don't get off right now you're going to suffocate me, have fun explaining that to Chan." My legs flailed beneath him, feet kicking backward in an attempt to kick him.

Seongho finally rolled off of me, settling into the space beside me in bed with a groan. I hoisted myself onto my elbows, finally allowing myself to breathe.

"You're way too energetic this early in the morning." My head dropped forward, hair draping across my face as I closed my eyes, wishing I could let sleep take over once more.

"And you sleep in too much, come to the gym with me."

"I can't, Seungmin still hasn't cleared me for physical activity." I fell forward back into my pillow, my body melting into the warm sheets as I pulled the blanket up over my head. "Just go down there yourself, let me sleep."

"Com'on, it's no fun down there by myself, at least come tell me if I'm doing stuff right." 

"Oh jesus christ. Fine." 

I originally had a full day of relaxation planned, letting myself to do little to nothing until nightfall when Seongho, Felix and I would head to Blossom after closing. But alas, relaxation was far from Seongho’s mind, the gusto almost literally dripping off of him.

He felt like a kid on Christmas, far too eager to experience everything all at once. I had assured him that if he wanted me involved in any of his early morning shenanigans he would have to patiently wait for me to consume my morning coffee, preferably in silence after my rude awakening.

By the grace of the heavens, Changbin and Jeongin had made their way into the kitchen while Seongho mindlessly swung side to side in his stool, watching as I leaned back against the counter with my warm mug in hand. The two were clearly about to head down to the gym, filling their water bottles with shared jokes.

"What amazing timing you two have" Changbin and Jeongin both directed their attention to me, causing Jeongin to slightly spill some water in the process of his distraction. "Seongho needs a training buddy and I can't assist with that quite yet, care to take him under your wing?" 

Changbin's smile grew as he stepped over and gave Seongho a soft punch to the arm, before nodding back to the stairwell. 

"Yes! Come join Dwaekki gym!"

My brows furrowed in confusion as I looked at Jeongin, mouthing a silent question to him with the single word dwaekki?

He shrugged, clearly just accepting cluelessness to Changbin's naming scheme, not quite sure of an answer for me.

Before I knew it, the three were shuffling from the room, their laughter carrying down the hall as they slipped from my sight. 

I let out a slow sigh in the new peace and quiet that was surrounding me, turning to gaze out the window and observing the crisp snow blanketing the ground. 

"Winter sure snuck up on us fast, didn't it?" I turned my head to see Chan sneaking up behind me and refilling his freshly emptied mug of coffee.

"It sure did." Outside produced the familiar, comforting silence of fresh snow, the sun sparkling off each flake as they fell. 

"Where's Seongho?" Chan settled into a stool on the opposite side of the island, leaning forward onto his arms with his mug settled snugly between his hands.

"I sent him off with Changbin and Jeongin to get out some of his energy in the gym.." I let out a chuckle as I turned to face Chan, leaning back onto the counter as I brought my mug to my lips.

"He’s sure had no problem fitting in. How was it being back at your own place for a bit?"

I hummed in response, smiling down into the dark liquid in my hand with a nod.

"It felt nice, almost like a little vacation."

“Well, good. I hope that it did you both some good”

“I think so. At least for me, I can’t speak for Mr. Lee Minho.”

"You two didn’t have too much fun did you?" 

In an instant I can feel all the blood rush to my face, a heat quickly forming in my cheeks as I stumbled across my words.

"I-what? Who…no, of course not! Just a normal, reasonable amount of adult fun. Wait, no, just normal fun…of the non-adult variety.”

His brow slowly rose, lips parting as he let out a breathy chuckle with a smirk.

“Well you clearly don’t do well under pressure, remind me to keep you away from interrogation situations.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"Of course you don't.” He rose from his seat, lightly tapping the counter before turning to leave. “I'm just glad to hear there's finally progress between you two." 

"The hell is that supposed to mean!? Chan!" I hustled to the hallway after him, watching as he hopped up each step of the staircase. "Yah! What does that mean!?" 

His giggles faded as he rounded the corner, giddy like a child. I blinked as his words replayed in my mind, stunned as I processed them.

I quickly dropped my mug into the sink, deciding that it was time to distract myself from what occurred within the walls of my apartment. 

Skipping down the stairs, I turned towards the gym door, slowly pushing it open to the noisy commotion.

"Oh com'on! I know you're not letting yourself get your ass handed to you by the newbie right now!" Jeongin heckled out from the bench, watching in amusement as Changbin and Seongho had a sparring match in the middle of the room. 

He gave me a wide grin as I plopped down next to him, back resting against the cold mirror behind me. 

"You shit talking from the sidelines right now?"

"Oh yeah, egging them on is my favorite past-time." His eyes glanced back to the two, letting out a humored scoff. "You seriously couldn't block that?" 

I'll admit I was quite surprised seeing Seongho in this environment. Throughout my time of knowing him, I never took him to have the skills of a trained fighter, yet here he was proving me wrong as he held his own against the Seo Changbin.

"Where have you been hiding this from me Seongho?" I crossed my arms with my head cocked to the side, observing each of his movements.

"Guess you weren't the only one holding secrets." Seongho quickly ducked away from one of Changbin's blows with a panting grin, clearly leaving Changbin disgruntled. 

"Sure took me by surprise." Changbin hopped back with a dodge, steadying himself back on his feet.

"TAKE HIM OUUUUUT!" Jeongin cheered with a fist pounding the air, laughing at his own instigation. 

I nudged him in the side with a grin, laughing off the maknae's enthusiasm.

"What? I wanna take the winner, and I want that to be Seongho." 

Sure enough Jeongin did get his turn up against the mighty Seongho, and I quickly realized I hadn't truly got to witness Jeongin in action yet either.

He was a bit quicker than Changbin, who was now a sweaty mess sitting beside me and downing his water. Jeongin's smaller stature gave him the ability to dodge Seongho's bulky  frame faster, giving him the advantage over Seongho's more balanced opponent of Changbin. 

Changbin on the other hand chose a different approach to Jeongin's heckling, instead giving pointers to each of their moves, using the sparring session as an opportunity for growth. 

It was reassuring to watch Seongho blend into the group like he had been here through it all, SKZ had welcomed him with warm open arms and immediately treated him as one of their own. In just under two weeks he’d established himself in their ranks and they’d given him his own room. Everything seemed to be working out perfectly.

I watched with a smile as the two danced around each other, Changbin's instructions becoming muffled background noise beside me. As I admired the scene before me my muscles began to itch, aching to join the action. 

Before I knew it I was starting to approach the mat, tapping Jeongin on the shoulder to signal a swap out. He hesitated as he stepped back, giving me a worried glance. 

"Are you sure you should be doing that?"

"It's fine, Seungmin will probably be clearing me for light work any day now. Seongho just has to go easy on me." I held my fists up before me, looking at Seongho with my brow raised. 

"I'm not sure if this is smart…" Seongho dropped his fists as he looked at me with concern, Changbin behind me finally speaking up.

"If I feel like you're going too hard and I tell you to stop, you need to listen, okay?" 

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say boss." I groaned over my shoulder, before turning back to Seongho. "Now come at me." I landed a soft punch to his stomach, giving him a laugh as he shook his head with a grin. 

"Oh now you're gonna get it." We moved much slower than he did with his previous opponents, letting my favor my good arm and only occasionally trying to land a hit with my injured side. 

I tried to stay mindful of being careful, but there was something about being active again that gave me new life, letting myself get a bit too carried away with my hits. The occasional sharp pain in my shoulder was ignored, letting myself just focus on where I was at the moment.

"YAH!" In my distraction I failed to notice the door to the gym opening, a disgruntled Minho quickly stepping between the two of us and staring me down. "What do you think you're doing?" 

I threw my head back with a groan, making sure to look away from Minho as I lowered my chin. 

"I'm being careful, Binnie's even watching over us to make sure I don't overdo it!" I motioned back to Changbin on the bench with my hand, turning back to Minho with a glare.

"The hell you are, I could quite literally see you wincing. Seungmin. Now." He pointed to the door, voice stern as he nudged me forward with his other hand.

"Oh com'on! I'm not gonna get better if I just sit here doing nothing!" 

"That's exactly how you're going to get better, now go see Seungmin." With a huff I left the room, Minho close on my tail. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at the three men left behind. "Please resume where you were-" He quickly pointed a finger at Changbin "-and no more encouraging her." 

I stopped in my tracks, turning around right as Minho shut the door behind him and came face to face with me. 

"If we've got Big Bang coming in, how do you expect me to be ready when shit hits the fan?" 

"By actually taking care of yourself, now can you please stop being so stubborn?" 

"I'm not being stubborn, I'm being realistic. I can't sit back and let this injury prevent me from helping."

"I think both Chan and Seungmin would beg to differ." He placed his hand on my back, gently leading me towards the staircase. 

As we neared the medical room my steps grew smaller, our walk in silence breaking as Minho stopped in front of me and turned with a brow raised in question. 

"What if I just promise not to do it again? I'll admit you're right."

"Oh no, you're not getting yourself out of this." His fingers gently wrapped around my bicep, pulling me forward as he left two knocks on the door before swinging it open and pulling me inside.

"You know, the knocks don't do much if you just let yourself in." Seungmin slowly turned in his chair, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and book in hand. His eyes stopped on the two of us, before glancing to me and back to Minho. 

With a reluctant sigh, he closed his book and set it on the desk behind him, turning back to us and interlocking his fingers in his lap as he leaned back.

"Now what brings the two of you in?" 

"Why don't you explain why we're here?" Minho side eyed me with a blank expression, waiting for me to finally speak up. 

I bit my lip as I avoided each of their stares, a metaphorical spotlight shining and blinding me as both of their eyes drilled holes into my skin. 

"I take it she was doing something she wasn't supposed to?" Seungmin looked toward Minho with a quizzical stare, the direction of his question being taken off me.

"What gave it away?" Minho’s head tilted to the side with a sigh. 

"I was being careful!" 

“Hush dear, we’ll deal with you in a moment” Minho’s hand flicked toward me, head turning to me with a brow raised in a silent challenge.

My eyes fell on Seungmin, slumped in his chair as his face dropped into disappointment, glancing from Minho to me. With an exasperated groan he placed his hands on the arm rests, pushing himself to stand and sulking over to the bed in the middle of the room.

“Sit.” His hand flicked toward the bed in instruction, before he turned and began to fiddle with the light to the side. My shoulders drooped as I groaned towards the ceiling, before being startled by Minho’s hand finding placement on my lower back, ushering me forward into the room.

“I really think you guys are making this a bigger deal than it is.” I shimmied up onto the bed in front of Seungmin, my legs dangling over the side and hands gripping the edge.

Seungmin chose to blissfully ignore my comment, instead clicking on the light with it angled a bit too precisely to leave me squinting and flinching away from the bright light in my eyes.

“Have you been doing your exercises?” He glanced up through his lashes, face heavy with irritation. Clearly he was going to waste no time starting the interrogation, light blinding me as though I was a criminal on trial.

I reached up and tried to angle the light away from my eyes, but Seungmin’s reaction was quicker, hand gripping my wrist and setting it back at my side.

“By the lack of response, I’m taking that as a no?” His brow raised, clearly unhappy with my choice to stay silent.

“I’m starting to think she just enjoys the pain.” Minho crossed to a chair on the side of the room, pulling the pillow from it before plopping down with it in his lap and feet crossed on the ottoman in front of him.

“Oh and the secret comes out. Geez what did you two get up to while you were gone?” Seungmin said with a chuckle, eyes carefully zeroed in on my shoulder.

“Literally nothing, he’s just being Minho and making stupid comments.” My gaze sharpened in Minho’s direction with a glare, bringing a snicker out of him. “Now can you just tell me I’m fine and let me go on my way?” Seungmin’s eyes pointed up to me as he gazed through his lashes, emotion flat as he slowly blinked.

“I’m sorry, but who’s the doctor here?” He tapped my elbow, demonstrating with his own arm the movements he wanted to see me replicate. I kept my face steady to not show any signs of discomfort as I rotated the joint, pleased to at least show my full range of motion having returned.

“Neither of you. Your license was revoked.” Minho snickered as Seungmin’s head snapped in his direction, earning a glare as he attempted to brush off the comment before turning back to me.

“You’re lucky.” Seungmin stepped back, letting himself fall back into his seat. “You seem to have your movements back, but you still need to be keeping it easy.”

“Oh com’on, I’m sick of babying this.”

“You can do light work. No weights. No sparring. You’re still in your physical therapy stage. And you’ll never get out of it if you don’t take it seriously.”

“Wow no sparring, what a concept.” Minho piped up from the side, his condescending tone dripping from the words as they left his mouth. 

My eyes stayed focused on Seungmin, hoping that if I ignored Minho he might have the ability to vanish into thin air.

“I was taking it easy, Minho’s making this out to be a lot bigger than it is.” 

“I’m about ready to tie that arm down so you can’t use it.” He heckled again, trying to interject over me.

“Better yet just tie her to a chair, that’ll keep her on track.” Seungmin’s head tilted toward Minho with a grin. 

“Seungmin! Don’t encourage him!”

“Don’t be doing stuff I’ve explicitly told you not to do.” He shrugged before spinning his chair around, settling back comfortably and pulling his book back to him. “Now let me be, I was busy.”

“Oh please, all you were doing was reading.”

“Yes. Reading, alone, without a troublesome little masochist and her tattle-tale of a babysitter ruining my immersion. So if you would kindly, get out.” Seungmin shooed us with his hand, trying to ignore us as we shuffled out of the room in silence.

For the rest of the day, I tried my hardest to distract myself from the ticking clock. It felt like night couldn’t come fast enough, and no amount of movies or egging Felix on in his video games could make the time pass faster.

As the sun finally started to set, Felix stored his equipment away into his backpack, triple ensuring every piece needed was there. As we finally made our way downstairs, Seongho was already waiting in the foyer, informing us that Hyunjin was already outside warming up the car.

I skipped down the front steps of the home, nearing closer to the dark car with the engine humming, leaving Seongho and Felix to catch up behind me.

“Shotgun!” with a giggle I flung open the passenger door, sliding in beside Hyunjin with a grin. He returned my smile before his head leaned back, watching behind us as Seongho and Felix slipped into the back seat and fastened their seatbelts. As Hyunjin put the car in reverse, I watched as Chan stood in the front doorway, sending a small wave our way before turning back into the house and shutting the door behind him.

Chan had expressed a bit of worry about just Seongho, Felix and I making the trek to Blossom, instead asking if Hyunjin could join us for an extra line of security. Putting the original four back together in familiar territory.

The drive there was a noisy one, Seongho and Felix’s cackling laughter from the back seat echoing through the car at another joke, one that didn’t quite seem to make it to the punchline before they were breaking out into laughter again as if they could read each other’s minds.

Thankfully the noise levels provided a distraction, making the ride go by in what felt like a blink of an eye before Hyunjin was putting the car into park. Felix slung his backpack of equipment over his shoulder as we made our way down the dark alley.

“Hey, here’s your stop.” I nudged Hyunjin and pointed to a dark, smaller alley that branched off the main one, the same spot he hid in waiting the night Felix spoke to me outside. With a small smile and roll of the eyes he tried to ignore me, continuing forward to the door.

“Felix made me, he said I was too abrasive to get you to come with us.”

“Well, I can’t particularly say he was wrong.” I stepped to the side with a chuckle as I watched Seongho unlock the front door, before holding it open and letting each of us file in.

“You were scaring her, I told you leaving the note wasn’t the right decision.” Felix stepped in after Hyunjin, with me following closely behind.

“Yeah what the hell was that!? It was so ominous!” I hopped up onto one of the stools as Felix flung the backpack up onto the counter beside me.

“I just figured it was the easiest way to get the message to you.”

“Wait, what did they do?” Seongho slowly broke his gaze from Felix, staring back at me with confusion.

“Okay, do you remember the last night I was there, and Felix was by himself?”

“I think so?”

“Well the night prior to that, they slipped a note under my apartment door that literally just said we need to have a talk with my birth name on it. And when I finally came back to work for my next shift, this little shit-” my finger wiggled in Hyunjin’s direction as he let out a defensive Hey! “-was hiding outside in the alleyway the whole time.” I reached across the counter of the bar, grabbing one of the clean glasses and pointed to a bottle on the shelf as Seongho circled behind the bar.

I watched as he poured the liquid for me, before I graciously took the glass and took my first sip as the realization hit me.

“Wait a second, you guys totally followed me home the night you left the note, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” Hyunjin laughed as he nodded, almost surprised it took me this long to notice.

“I fucking knew I was getting trailed!” I smacked my fist onto the counter with a huff of frustration. “I seriously couldn’t spot you guys anywhere, but the pit of my stomach wouldn’t let me rest until I made it home.”

“I told you it was a bad idea!” Felix punched Hyunjin’s arm, before turning back to Seongho. “Before we get too off track, wanna show me where the office is so I can get into these cameras?”

With a nod, Seongho gestured toward the back hallway, walking Felix back towards the employee rooms.

“Would you like your usual?” I started to stand, circling around the bar and offering Hyunjin’s regular.

“I actually kind of hate whiskey to be honest, so does Felix. He always made me finish his for him.” Hyunjin leaned back in his stool, crossing his legs and settling his hands in his lap.

“Then why the hell did you guys order them every time?” I rested my hands on the bar top, eyes squinting in confusion.

“Well I would have killed for a Carménère, but I highly doubted you guys had that in stock. I guess I just panicked and it was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” ~~ “It always sounded cool when Changbin ordered them.” 

“Ah, of course you’re a wine snob.” I bent down to peek into the wine fridge, taking stock of the options now unfamiliar to me. “Closest I have is a Bordeaux, will that appease you Mr.Sommelier?”

“I would love that, thank you.” With a quiet laugh Hyunjin gladly took the glass from my hand, taking a soft sip with a smile.

"So have you always had expensive tastes or is that a consequence of the job?" I brought my glass back up to my lips, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Oh I was born with taste, Hon. The job just made me enjoy the finer things every chance I get.” He swirled the liquid in the glass for a moment before holding it up with a smile. Hyunjin reclined back in his seat once more as Seongho came out to the main room, resting on his forearms against the end of the bar.

“So, if neither of you like whiskey, what does Felix like then? Seongho could whip something up for him.” I gestured over to Seongho with my thumb, who leans up from the bar to his full height, with a look of indignation.  

“Oh so you’re volunteering me then? Why don’t you make something for him?”

“Because I’m rubbish. And who wouldn’t want the world’s greatest bartender to mix their perfect drink?”

Seongho sighs and take his place behind bar, grabbing a tumbler from the dish rack

“So what’ll it be then?” he asked

“Something sweet, maybe fruity? He seems to like things like that.”.”

I reached out and slightly smacked the back of Hyunjin’s hand, watching as he quickly pulled it back and held it to his chest in surprise.

“How dare you make that poor boy drink whiskey when he’s a fruity drinker!”

“Oh that’s dirty.” Seongho laughed as he studied the bottles on the wall, trying to decide on what to make for Felix. The finalized drink was poured into a tall glass, a blended ombré of orange to yellow stretching up the glass as he topped it with an orange wedge, patiently waiting for Felix to complete his mission.

Before long, Felix had returned to the group. The act of connecting his system to the CCTV seemed like child’s play at this point for him, being able to clearly have a layout of the building stored away for Chan’s viewing.

I had gladly snuck to the side, bringing the sound system to life and letting the four of us have a night with the lounge to ourselves before making the trek back to the house.

A thought that hadn’t seemed to cross our minds was the actual act of returning to the house. Seongho, Felix and I were now pleasantly inebriated and shushing each other as we made our way up the steps. Felix and I had our arms slung over each other’s shoulders, trying to silence our giggling before slowly creaking the door open and sliding in.

With a roll of the eyes, Hyunjin pushed past the three of us and sat on a bench in the foyer, untying his shoes. I tried to steady Seongho as he swayed with his attempt to remove his own shoes, opting for no support from actually sitting.

Felix and I struggled to shush each other through our muffled giggling, him falling into me slightly before going rigid at a sight behind me.

I slowly turned to see Minho exiting from a room down the hall, head slowly rising to see us with a brow arched.

“Youuu should be asleep sir.” I said with a wiggling finger, his eyes growing wide as he stood slightly taken aback.

“I was asleep, until someone woke me up by fumbling in the door giggling late at night.”

“Why are you always insisting that I’m fumbling everywhere?” I groaned, head falling back in annoyance.

Minho slowly crossed over to me, face studying my own closely as a small grin grew on his cheeks.

“God, you’re plastered, aren’t you?” He chuckled, before turning to Hyunjin. “I thought Chan was sending you to keep these three in line, not let them drink themselves silly.”

“Listen, they did what they were sent to do. I wasn’t gonna stop them from having some fun afterwards.” He shrugged as he stood from his seat, waving off Minho and us as he started up the stairs. “They’re your problem now, have fun with that.”

Hyunjin’s chuckle echoed down the stairs as he turned down the hall towards his room, Minho slowly turning back to me with an amused smirk.

“I’m starting to think you may be a bad influence.” Minho’s hand rested on Seongho’s shoulder with a squeeze as he let out a lighthearted laugh.

“Bitch, she’s always been a handful.” Seongho slurred his words as his head lolled towards Minho, a considerable emphasis on the term of endearment. 

“WELL, don’t mind me while I FUMBLE my way upstairs now. GOODNIGHT!” I pushed past him with an arm in the air in declaration. Seongho and Felix followed suit, leaving Minho as he walked off toward the kitchen.

I face planted into my mattress at the sight of the soft blankets, the plush fabric enveloping me as I tried to steady my spinning head. I smiled as I pulled a pillow close to me, hugging it as my eyes started to grow heavy.

As sleep started to quickly take hold of me, a knock on the door quickly pulled me away from dreamland.

“Whaaat, was I fumbling too hard?” I grumbled into the fabric, turning back just enough to see Minho poking his head into the room.

“Here.” He set a glass of water down on the nightstand, a couple of pills sitting next to it. He watched for a moment as I let myself melt back into the sheets, before he let out a humored scoff and crossed to my dresser. He tossed a t-shirt and shorts onto the bed beside me, switching off the main light in lieu of the softer one on my nightstand. “Drink the water, I’m not taking care of you when you’re hungover.”

“I’m not taking care of you when you’re hungover.” I mocked back, my head lifting just enough to spew out the words before collapsing back into the pillow with a thud.

“Goodnight y/n.” He said with one final chuckle before the door latched behind him, leaving me in a peaceful silence once more.

I propped myself up with a groan, studying the clothes Minho had thrown out for me. With another puff of effort I willed myself to undress and struggled my way into them. Once I had, I threw myself back on the bed and buried myself underneath my waiting comforter. 

Turning to my side, the glass of water stared me down from the nightstand. A looming demand that my foggy brain took as a challenge. With a huff I flipped over to the other side, the deepest of desires to have the glass of liquid far from my line of sight. 

I tried to nestle my face into the sheets, trying to quiet the barrage of thoughts that hit me all at once.

In such a short amount of time, I would be face to face with G-Dragon and the guys again. Thus the start of our support team for what was to come with Ateez, and as much as I hated to admit it, Tiger JK. 

It truly felt like it was just yesterday I was arriving at the house for the first time, sitting around the table as each of the boys happily introduced themselves. I had the ability to sit in blissful ignorance of what was truly to come, and what secrets were going to unearth themselves.

I pulled the comforter over my eyes, blocking out any of the moonlight that poured into my room in pursuit of the welcoming embrace of sleep. This was all very real. Too real. And my head spun as I finally tried to make sense of everything that had occurred in such a short span of time.

I wasn’t quite sure when I had truly dozed off into slumber. All I knew was that as my eyes opened, I was aggressively squinting towards the morning light, hand shielding my face before burying myself under the covers.

If the pounding headache was here to tell me anything, it was definitely that I should have drank the damn water.

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@leagreenly @moonlight-the-writer @jamlessstars @venusmoonxnight @ishz @minbinboo

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — eight || Jungkook

[Moodboard by @jeonlovescoffee]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 7.5k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy,  who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then  it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father  decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fights and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): toxic parental relationship, explosion, general angst

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(there is a long author's note under the chapter, feel very free to skip it lol)

“How is everything looking, Hector?” is the first thing you say when you walk though the new building’s glass doors.

The simple action brings you a sense of satisfaction you haven’t felt in a long time, as you take in what you’ve achieved. Of course, the situation is still far from what it was before Mr. X was murdered. The Organization doesn’t own this building, and it’s merely renting one floor from it. It’s also not quite as impressive of a building as you would have liked, but it will have to do, and you know that getting your hands on this place in a couple of weeks is nothing short of a miracle.

But then, knowing which strings to pull and which palms to grease had always been your thing, hadn’t it.

God, it felt good to be back to doing things the way you used to.

“Everything seems to be in order, ma’am,” Hector replies, matching his step to yours as you walk towards the elevator. Despite the fact that it’s still early in the morning, the lobby is already bursting with life. The image you’re giving the group right now is an excellent one. There’s still a lot of work to be done on the floor you’re renting, but that is only temporary and, frankly, you cannot find it in yourself to care about that right now.

“Mr. Jeon should be coming in to check on things in about twenty minutes,” you say as the elevator doors close, his schedule clear as day in your mind. “I want everyone ready.”

Everything won’t be ready by then, even you can only manage so much, but arranging for people to greet him and for his office to be in order should be feasible. You know he won’t be all that impressed by it, can picture his expression of annoyance and vague disgust. Still, it should make it clear that you have everything under wraps and that he wasn’t wrong in giving you free reign in handling the building. As you were taking the steps to do that, you had been able to tell that he wasn’t happy about all of your choices. He’d held back saying anything on that, though.

That was ultimately a good thing, of course, but you weren't sure what to make of it. Before, at least, you knew what you were dealing with. You’d tried to fight back all the paranoid thoughts you’d been having ever since the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor, tried to just trust, for once. That had been— easier said than done. Maybe you just weren't wired that way, maybe you just didn’t have it in yourself.

Knowing, from the looks you sometimes caught him giving you, that the feeling was mutual had brought a surprising sense of comfort.

The elevator doors ding as they open, and you step out on the busy floor. People are rushing in every direction, carrying boxes, chairs, computers, papers, and the occasional plant. Behind a circular desk, directly facing you, a woman is setting up a computer and doesn’t notice you. In fact, no one so much as glances in your direction, and it takes you a few long seconds to find one of the security guards that you’ve hired.

That simply won’t do.

“Who is in charge of watching the elevator?” you ask the man without bothering to greet him.

You see him blink as he tries to figure out who you are. Finally, he seems to recognize Hector and, though he clearly still hasn’t placed you, he must decide that you’re important.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re pretty busy here, I—”

“One person needs to have eyes on it at all times,” you order. There’s no inflection to your tone, no anger, and yet it leaves no place for discussion. “That is the only thing that is needed of you. Anything, and I mean anything that happens in here must be white noise to you. Is that clear?”

He swallows.

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

But you don’t think he does. No matter. You’ll fix it soon enough. Perhaps it would be smart to put one of Jungkook’s men at this spot. You doubt this man truly realizes what is happening here, what this company even is, and, frankly, what he risks, being here. You suppose you’ll find somewhere else for him, and you mentally file the task before briskly turning away from him.

“Mr. Jeon’s office is that way, Hector?”

You barely need to ask. You’ve studied the plans, you've chosen the emplacement for the office, to the point that you already know this place like the back of your hand, even if it’s your first time actually stepping foot in it.

Hector hums in affirmation, following after you as you make your way through the corridor. You don’t miss anything happening around you. You glance at the wide room where half of the desks have already been set up, and at the people who are already there. They’re here to act as the legal front of the business, which really is mostly just a way to launder money. None of them are actually of value, and you haven’t bothered remembering their names or faces, but they’ll come in handy as a group.

You do recognize, in a corner, two accountants that you managed to hire again. You’ll need some more, but these two are capable of actual magic with numbers, and it’s a relief to you that that’s one less thing you’ll have to worry about. One of them looks up, meeting your eyes, and you give her a polite nod, which she returns. The quiet respect of the interaction is one more thing that helps grounding you.

You wish everything could be this simple.

When you walk into Jungkook’s office, you know exactly what you’re going to find. Except what catches your eye isn’t the elegant wooden desk, the leather chair, or the impressive view on the city you have through the picture window. No, it’s the floral arrangement that sits proudly on the desk, and the rich perfume that’s emanating from it.

You don’t know much about the language of flowers. You’ve never had to give it much thought. You do know that you don’t like these colors. Lots of red, dark greens, some unpleasant touches of purple. It’s too intense, jarring, almost tacky. When you take the card that’s planted in the middle, you know exactly what to expect.

‘Jungkook,’ the card reads in elegant calligraphy, ‘I see you keep walking in my father’s footsteps. There are things that we need to discuss. You know where to find me. —A.’

Even though your back is turned to Hector, you only stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the last second, and you want to scold yourself in response to it. If you start letting emotions slip through, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold them in next time it really matters. You know that. You need to— you need to stop slipping.

The card goes into your wallet. New filing. You’ll have to remember to burn that later.

“Throw these out,” you order Hector. “Take the stairs to avoid running into Mr Jeon, and go out the back. Then try to find out if anyone saw them getting delivered.”

“Are you sure, ma’am? If he finds out—”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

At the finality of your words, Hector just nods stiffly and takes the basket the flowers came in. Not long ago, you would have thought he had an excellent point, would have taken pains to ensure Jungkook wouldn’t find out. It was true that he still wouldn’t be happy about you hiding things from him, but it was— things had changed, too. You didn’t think he would mind that much. He’d probably understand.

Shit. Since when did you work on probably’s when it came to your safety? You needed— you weren’t sure what you needed. To get a grip or to trust him on this?

Anna trying to contact him was undoubtedly bad news, though. Your mind latches to the obvious distraction, all too happy to move away from the dilemma. Thinking of Jungkook's possible reaction to her is enough to make your stomach twist at the thought of what happened last time. You don’t want to have to go find him, all bruised and battered, after spending the night at the Circle. You don’t want to have to see him in that state again. And most of all, you don’t want to think about what he must have felt like, to inflict that upon himself.

You breathe in, slowly. As unreasonable as it is, that is probably your main reason for not letting Jungkook see the flowers and the note. You just, desperately, irrationally, want to protect him. It’s something you did a pretty shitty job at all those years ago, no matter how hard you tried, and it’s something you’d like to do better now, since you have the chance.

That isn’t the only reason, though. You’re also not sure Jungkook can be trusted around Anna. She’s been playing the manipulation game for a long time, possibly as long as she’s been alive, and it’s clear that she still has some form of influence on him. You don’t want to give her a chance at figuring that out — figuring him out. You’re certain that it would jeopardize the Organization, and, again, you don't think that would be good for Jungkook. Falling back into Anna’s arms is the last thing he needs.

Maybe you should put more faith in him, but you’ve been doing a lot of that already, lately. It looks like this is where you find your limits.

You straighten your shoulders, glancing around the room. You cannot stay here immobile, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Without a doubt, the potent smell hanging in the air is one he will notice. There’s even a strong possibility that that consideration impacted Anna’s choice of flowers.

It certainly would have impacted yours.

You don’t linger on that thought.

In just a few steps, you’re at the window. It takes you a second to get it opened, and when you do, the harsh, cold wind of November comes rushing in. You suppress a shiver, dig your teeth into your cheek to keep them for chattering. To finish the job, you retrieve an air freshener from a nearby closet. You made sure there would be some on hand, considering the fact that a number of hybrids would be working there. While they are not fond of the artificial smell, it’s still better than most of the unpleasant, natural ones that humans don’t necessarily notice.

And, apparently, it can be used when your bitch of an ex-boss keeps trying to sink her teeth in your new one. Like she hasn’t done him enough damage, like she hasn’t hurt him enough, like he won’t forever bare the scars she’s inflicted on him—

You still your movements, mind racing.

You’re used to the gnawing of irritation, the bite of the desire for revenge, the cold feeling of injustice. This white-hot anger is— new. It’s unlike you, frankly, and that fills you with fear. But what you find truly terrifying is the fact that you don’t find completely unpleasant. You should know better. You usually do.

Yet, for some reason, you cling on to this specific emotion.

Why?

“Why the fuck does it smell like that in here?”

Turning around to face Jungkook, the question is yet one more thing that you file away in the complex system that is your brain, making a mental note to come back to it later.

Or not.

“You’re here early, Mr. Jeon,” you say with a polite nod of your head. He’s standing in the doorway, nose scrunched in disgust, black hair falling in soft curls to frame his face and underline that perfect jaw of his. A scowl twists his mouth, no doubt due to the smell he was mentioning. “There was a strange smell in here,” you say flatly, without batting an eye. Not lying but not quite telling the truth either. “I assumed you would rather avoid that in your office.”

He doesn’t question what you say — why would he? — and just lets out an annoyed groan. You’re starting to suspect that it’s just your voice that gets on his nerves. He walks inside the room and looks around critically.

“I suppose this doesn’t look too bad,” he admits after a few second.

“This should only be temporary,” you tell him. “If everything goes well, you should be able to have your own floor.”

‘If everything goes well’ sure carries a lot of weight here.

If he makes it through the next day.

If he’s not horrifically murdered in the next few months.

If you don’t fuck up.

“I don’t know if I like this,” Jungkook comments, and there’s something in his tone that makes you look at him. He’s not really saying this to you, expecting you to react to this information. He’s just— saying it. Sharing his thoughts with you. It throws you off more than you would like to admit. “I’m not going to be running things from behind a desk.”

You bite your tongue, force yourself to think about what you want to say.

“Then think of this as being about your image, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Ideally, I would prefer if you worked from here, at least until things settle down but,” you keep going, expecting his anger, “I would understand if you didn’t. Still, this place should be safe.” And you add, somewhat self-consciously. “I upped the security.”

He seems puzzled, and then an amused — somewhat mocking, but mostly amused — grin forms on his face.

“As long as you have some hybrids on the team, no one should be able to do what we did.”

You nod politely. You’d thought something along those lines.

“We will ensure that we do.”

“Frankly, even we didn’t think it would be that easy to take you on,” Jungkook adds, burying his hands in his pockets and taking a step towards you. The grin’s still dancing on his lips, and you stare. Is he trying to get a rise out of you?

You realize you’re taking too long to answer, and you look away, though you can tell that he's still looking at you, still smiling. You have no idea what to make of that or what you should reply. So, instead of going down that route, you clear your throat and pull out your phone, looking at it to read the schedule you know by heart.

“There is still work to be done up here,” you say, voice coming back to you now that you’re going down a familiar script, “so most of the appointments you have for today are outside. In the future, we’ll ideally hold most meetings here or in restaurants nearby.” You don’t add that you want to make sure people come to him, in a place where you can be in control, rather than the opposite. You know he wouldn’t like that, and you know he’ll likely keep his habits or going all around town. That is just something you’ll have to compose with.

“Right,” he says, tone just a little too sharp, and you hear all that he doesn’t say loud and clear. You could take issue with it, but you know that he’s making the same kind of effort you are.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet. In that moment, you both choose not to add anything that could get your defenses back up.

“Let’s get it done,” he says, and you nod.

This is something you think you could get used to. Actually, this is— nice, almost.

Almost.

While Jungkook has given you more freedom lately, not forcing you to be on his heels at all time, you are still in his presence more often than not. You are not entirely sure of how much of that is necessary. Since he now actually listens to you, it certainly makes more sense than it used to, but you can’t help but think that there has to be a better use of your time. You did mention, once, the possibility of having someone else filling in for you — someone who would be able to explain the inner workings of the Organization shouldn’t be that hard to find — but Jungkook just let out a dismissive scoff, and you didn’t bring it up again.

You did not want to push your luck, not for something that was ultimately harmless, when it was clear that you had finally reached a fragile truce. You still managed to get things done on your phone while Jungkook did— did his thing, more or less. It involved a lot of talking to people, a lot of handshakes, and many meetings in small offices that you were not always allowed into.

You were familiar with such interactions; Mr. X made sure to meet with the higher-ups at least once a month, and had frequent dinners with them individually. The difference was that Jungkook didn’t limit himself to the higher-ups. They were on the list, certainly, but it wasn’t all that rare for you to have to spend your afternoons in a freezing warehouse while Jungkook was talking with people who were only in command of a small group — sometimes, the meeting involved the whole group.

You did not say a word about it. At this point, you suspected that he knew what your feelings on the matter were, but he didn’t comment on it either. Those were differences that you could accept, especially because you could somewhat see the use in what he was doing.

Mr. X had never done anything to ensure the loyalty of those people and, though you sometimes met with one of your informants in person, neither had you. Usually, fear was enough to keep them in line. But with someone as charismatic and as confident as Jungkook… It was no wonder that that they felt they had a shot.

And, of course, a large number of the people Jungkook met with were hybrids. Some hid their attributes underneath hoodies and gloves; others flaunted them threateningly. You spotted lots of sharp teeth and claws, split tongues, scales, and, on one occasion, additional eyes on the temples of a spider-hybrid, usually hidden behind glasses.

Jungkook fit right in. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, it was obvious that he was seen as one of their own.

The same thing could not be said about you. Your mere presence could offset the balance in the whole room. On the few occasions when you interfered to talk to Jungkook, you were met with glares and even a couple of growls.

While there was no way Jungkook wouldn’t have noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. You weren’t sure what that meant. It seemed unlikely that he was putting you in these situations to make you fear for your life, not when he’d made it clear that you were not to be harmed by his men. That, however, did not help you figure out what his true reasoning was.

You were starting to wonder whether or not there was a reasoning. That was hard to wrap your head around, so unlike anything you had experienced in the years since you had joined the Organization. But then again, Jungkook was unlike anything you had experience since then.

And maybe that was not a bad thing.

During that time, you had started to send Hector do some of your less sensitive work. He’d recoiled at first at the idea of leaving you alone but, for once, he had not seemed too upset when you had insisted. You couldn’t say for sure if that was because he was mad at you or because he believed you when you told him you would be safe. He had simply nodded, and then he’d gotten to work. As it turned out, his heightened sense of hearing was an invaluable ability when he met with people or inspected places. You were always cautious not to send him anywhere too dangerous, of course, and you suspected that he knew that.

Trust might have been growing here, too, now that you thought about it.

Huh.

“This group is in charge of weapons entering the country,” you tell Jungkook in the car. “The government pays close attention to that, so they lay low when there’s no shipment coming in. The recent change in the group’s direction seems to have been well-received, even among the human members.”

Jungkook snorts at that.

“Yeah, ‘cause you would be the first to know if that wasn’t the case.”

“I actually keep a close eye on that group, considering their importance,” you reply, not even blinking at his derisive tone. “I would have heard about it.”

That makes him glance in your direction, raising an eyebrow.

“You have eyes everywhere, don’t you?” This time, he’s not mocking you.

“There seems to have been some movement within the group,” you continue, unwilling to reveal your secrets any more than you need to, “but most of the humans who were there kept their place. If anything, the new arrangement ensures more stability within the group, because the hybrids face less danger.”

You notice a muscle in Jungkook’s jaw contracting at your words, and you know exactly what he's thinking about. While weapons are strictly regulated in the country, humans caught carrying them can essentially get away with jail time, a fine if they’re lucky — or able to corrupt the police. For hybrids, however, punishment could go up to the death penalty. It says a lot about the Organization’s views that the team charged with handling the weapons was mostly hybrids.

So disposable that their lives could be lost to avoid jail time for humans.

“Most humans within the group seem to take no issue with the new arrangements,” you conclude. You’re not sure why you add that; it is an unnecessary assessment. It could be an attempt to ensure that the meeting you’re about to enter will be productive and that Jungkook won’t be out for blood. It could be you trying to stop the situation from worsening.

Or it could be a clumsy way of trying to bring him some comfort.

If that is what you are doing — and you refuse to look into it, refuse to analyze the way you’re feeling right now over something that insignificant — God are you bad at it.

“They better not,” Jungkook just growls.

There is more that you could say. According to your informant, something akin to friendship — comradeship at the very least — has developed within the group. These people look out for each other. Considering what happened in other factions once authority changed hands, you believe this to be significant. But none of this is objective, nor does it actually matter. Factions have been run without any of that for far longer than you've been involved with the Organization.

So you don’t say anything, merely lean back into your seat, and look out the window. The car is smoothly following along the bay, dwarfed by the massive cargo ships entering and leaving the harbor. Despite yourself, you feel your shoulders tensing. You’re always careful when you’re around here — would never set foot in here unless you absolutely had to. It’s too crowded, full of too many people from different factions. The ones that don’t belong to the Organization despise the ones that do. In the best of times, you’re not welcome there.

This is far from being the best of times.

Still, when you get out of the car alongside Jungkook, no one would be able to tell that the atmosphere here makes your skin crawl. Now that you frequently work with hybrids, your control over your breathing has become constant. One less thing for others to pick up on and to use against you; one more thing for you to constantly be mindful of.

You wonder if this should have been harder for you to implement, but the truth is that it only took a few days of effort. The control you have over your body at this point is— absurd, probably.

But even that doesn’t stop your heart from dropping in your chest and your blood from turning into ice in your veins when you spot a familiar face among the small group that is already gathered in the warehouse.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him. He’s aged considerably since the last time, grey streaks in his hair, circles under his eyes, and you wonder if anything happened and how he got affected to this job. The last time you had been in contact with him, he was still at the quiet position you had ensured he had, supervising the bouncers in a club that was not so secretly a brothel as well.

You remember the look on Mr. X’s face when you had asked him for the favor, the pleasure he’d taken in seeing you squirm.

You were almost— you were certain that this part of the business had not been affected by Jungkook’s reorganization of things. There was no reason for him to be here.

So then why are you suddenly staring at your father’s face, standing in the middle of a shady warehouse?

Had something happened? Was there an issue with money? Why wouldn’t your family have contacted you and why, why hadn’t you kept better fucking track of his whereabouts, why hadn’t you known—

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice as he greets the group’s leader, and you immediately try to correct yourself. You can tell that your jaw is clenched too tightly, know that there is probably a tension in your shoulders that looks unnatural. You can only hope that people will blame it on you being a stuck-up bitch; anything that they already believe to be true about you. Anything but the truth.

You barely lay eyes on the man who brings Jungkook in a brief embrace. Hoseok, you’d learned when checking your intel. There are doubts as to what type of hybrid he is. The unnerving smoothness with which he moves makes you suspect snake, but it could just as easily be something else. He shoots you a quick smile, which would have caught you by surprise if you weren’t hyper focused on the situation at hand, wringing your brain in an attempt at understanding it.

The brief speech Jungkook gives is completely lost on you, though, even in that state, you don’t miss how easily he manages to captivate and rile up his audience. Charisma rolls off of him in waves, and no one seems to be immune to it — well, no one but you and your father. His eyes remain bored and he keeps on staring at the ground.

He does not look at you once.

It is not until Jungkook starts talking with people individually that he steps towards you.

“Fred Lucas asked me to relay a message to you, ma’am,” he says.

It’s, objectively, a good lie. He used to work for Fred Lucas, and you’re the only one who deals with him. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook glancing at you, looking annoyed. You doubt he’ll look into it very much.

The word “ma’am” still feels like a slap in the face, coming from him.

You tilt your head towards a corner further away in the warehouse. There is wind blowing through the gate, and with the loud noises of the harbor, you’re hoping it will be enough to cover your voices.

“What is it?” you ask, voice quiet, when you get there. “What are you doing there?”

He clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at your questioning.

“Don’t you think you switched sides a little too quickly?” he asks you in return. “Nothing’s done just yet, and it’s not looking good for you. Some people might think it was an inside job.”

“Then they’ll think that,” you reply without batting an eye. “The choice was between this and death. What are you doing here?”

You see disapproval flash in his eyes.

“You've only delayed things,” he hisses. “You should lie low until the storm passes. Not everyone will find you indispensable.”

You discreetly flex your hand. His chastising tone brings to the surface parts of you that should remain buried at all times.

“I know you got this opportunity handed to you on a silver platter twice now,” he keeps going, shaking his head, “but you won’t always be so lucky.”

You know this should get a rise out of you. You should get angry. You should have something to reply to his words. Instead, you just feel yourself growing emptier and emptier.

Lucky.

He built the altar on which he sacrificed you, and he’s calling you lucky for it.

He’s jealous, a distant part of you supplies. It’s probably true.

“What are you doing here?” you ask for the third time. You bite back any other question, any offer of moving him, should he need your help. You know he would find it humiliating.

You’re not sure why you feel the need to shield him from that feeling, but you still do.

“It’s an important job,” your father replies dismissively. “Might as well take the opportunity to make a good impression.”

You can’t tell if he means that he wants to preserve his life or if he wants to try to climb the ranks of the Organization. You refuse to let yourself think about it, because if it’s the second option you’ll—

You can't think about that either.

“I see,” you nod. “In that case, you know where to reach me should anything be needed.”

For a second, you consider asking him about the rest of your family.

You think better of it before you act on that. You always do.

“Lie low,” he tells you again as the two of you are parting. “It’ll be better off that way.”

It’s only when you reach Jungkook that you consider the possibility that he might have been trying to look out for you. That is a thought that you could take comfort in, and yet you can’t even do that because, no matter how much you look at it, you just cannot find yourself to believe that.

“What did he want?” Jungkook asks you in the car as you drive away from the warehouse, away from the harbor, away from your father, and back to a place where you have control.

It takes a second for things to click into place.

“An update on the Heaven’s Doors situation,” you respond, though his eyes on you feel heavy in that moment. “Or rather, a lack of update.” A vague shrug. “Fred’s usual antics.”

“Is that it?”

You look up at him, meet his gaze. He’s just staring at you and you're not— You can’t read him. You can’t let yourself think that there's something akin to concern in his eyes. Not right now.

So you just nod.

“I will make sure to let you know if there is any actual development, Mr. Jeon.”

He openly rolls his eyes and, thankfully, the moment passes.

If this keeps up, you will definitely need to find a technique to keep that heart of yours in check.

Though you don’t mind being out and about with Jungkook nearly as much as used to, and though you still regularly have to be in the field yourself, you find immense relief in knowing that you have an office to come back to. As the preparations that you’ve made for the floor you’re renting come together, it becomes more and more of a place you can work from.

Of course, that means that every now and again, you cross paths with people you would rather not see. Some mostly harmless, like Fred Lucas, who you’ve learned how to handle, others clearly trying to determine the importance of your role in the Organization. And then there's Junho, the shark hybrid who you thought was going to be your end, who gives you a bright grin that reveals all of his teeth as you walk past the front desk where he's talking with Jungkook.

There is not an ounce of kindness in it.

You walk by with a mere, polite nod towards the two of them. You’d like to think that you haven’t let anything show — you know you’ve suppressed the shiver, you're pretty sure you kept your lips tightly pressed together — but the truth is you know cracks have formed in what used to be a perfect mask. You’ve caught it a few times now, a twitch of your lips, fingers tapping on your thigh. It’s not much. Most people wouldn’t notice it or care.

Yet it worries you, bubbles in your throat sometimes. If you let yourself slip in front of the wrong people, you could reveal too much about yourself. The thought is terrifying to you; not too long ago, it would have meant certain death. The thought that things might have changed and you might not need this anymore to your survival is perhaps just as scary.

What if you crumble? What if all those things buried deep inside your soul wreck everything you've built as they come back up to the surface?

Worse, what if they don’t?

“I’m out of here,” Jungkook announces loudly, though you’re the only one with him in his office. “Are you staying caged up in here?”

You glance up at him to find him already staring at you, jacket slung over his shoulder, and you feel your breath catching in your throat. You can only pray that your poker face holds up as you do, because all of your self-control is needed not to look away immediately. Once more, while you still can, you bury everything that comes with it, and you reply with a perfectly smooth expression.

“There is much left to be done, Mr. Jeon.”

That is not untrue, but if you were honest with him or with yourself, you would admit that the main reason for your decision is that overexerting yourself and coming home to your apartment only to collapse into a dreamless sleep actually sounds like the best way of spending your time these days.

Jungkook’s lips twist in a displeased expression, but he doesn’t seem angry, just annoyed. You can’t help the curiosity that fills you as you examine him. He seems more relaxed around you than he’s ever been. There’s still tension in his whole body, but it is not vibrating with anger and distrust anymore. In his eyes, you also cannot find the hatred you used to see. There’s a lot swirling inside them, it is true, things that you think you could spend hours deciphering, but—

“Suit yourself,” Jungkook shrugs, “but you won’t be able to stay hidden in here all the time.”

You snap back into focus, in time to press your lips together and nod at him.

“If there is anything you would like me to handle outside, make sure to let me know.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but seems to think better of it before snapping at you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, turning around and vaguely waving a hand at you, though you cannot tell for sure if it is a salute or if he is merely dismissing you.

“Certainly, Mr. Jeon.”

The glass door closes softly behind him, and your eyes go back to the spreadsheet in front of you. You’ve stared at the numbers for far too long now, but you want to ensure that they are right before forwarding them to one of your trusted accountants. You could handle it all yourself; you’re fairly good with numbers. If there is one thing you’ve learned over the years, though, it’s that you should delegate whenever possible. The hard part, of course, was finding people that you could trust.

As a result, few people in the company, outside from the bosses, are paid as well as the accountants — and are under as much surveillance.

That is how they got Capone, after all, and you have no intention of seeing Jungkook or yourself go down the same way.

Your phone dings while you’re still staring at the numbers and you check it immediately, having effectively trained yourself to do that over years of juggling the informations given by your numerous informants.

The text is brief, three words to be exact, but it makes your blood run cold.

‘All out war’.

You’re on your feet before you can process it completely. Jungkook has left less than two minutes ago, your brain supplies while you rush to the door and then through the corridors. You should still be able to get to him — but the elevators are both taken. You feel more than you notice people throwing you surprised glances. You don’t have time to think about it, nor do you have time to listen to the voice in the back of your brain that comments on the fact that you’ll need to ensure that an elevator is available at all time for the higher-ups.

You’re running down the stairs before you know it. Hector, you realize at some point, though you can’t tell when exactly, would have been faster than you, but he’s probably getting his coffee somewhere on the floor and it’s too late to go get him. On your phone, you try to get a hold of Jungkook, but he doesn't reply, likely because he’s still in the goddamn building and has no way of knowing how swiftly the situation just changed and— Fuck, you need to get to him.

Based on the text you received, you have to assume your informant texted you in the middle of the meeting. Depending on where they are in the chain of command, the decision could have been made hours, maybe a day earlier. Which would leave ample time for them to plant—

You burst through the door of the lobby, earning yourself surprised looks from the people in there — among which you don’t find Jungkook. Normally you would worry of appearances, but you don’t have time for such considerations, and so you run through the lobby, wincing when your ankle twists unpleasantly, and then, finally, through the glass windows, you see him about to get in his car. He seems to be making small talk with the driver, thank God, and then gives you just enough time to walk through the door and call out to him.

“Mr Jeon!”

He turns around to look at you, surprised, while you wince at the way your voice just cracked.

“Changed your mind?” he asks, and you think you see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You shake your head. All you can think about is that you have to get him away from the car. You gesture at him to approach, but he either doesn’t understand or chooses to ignore it.

“Mr Jeon,” you repeat, “there is something I need you to take a look at.”

Even from where you’re standing, you know he’s rolling his eyes at you.

“Then show it to me,” he replies. “I’m not getting back in there.”

You swallow painfully, eyes going back to the car. No. You’re not getting close to that thing with Jungkook. The two of you are probably at the very top of the kill list, and even if the blast might not kill you if you’re not inside, you know that is a risk the enemy faction would be willing to take, because it is a risk you would be willing to take.

“Mr Jeon,” you say, once more. “Please.” You try to convey everything you need to say into the intonation, but even to your ears, your voice barely varies. This is not an exercise you are used to — far from it, in fact.

You think Jungkook frowns, takes one step in your direction, before stopping himself. He turns to say something at his chauffeur, which you don’t quite manage to catch. He’s not showing sign of moving, and with each second in the open with minimal protection, you feel yourself growing more desperate. This is supposedly a safe part of town — but realistically, with an open war in the Organization, there will be no safe parts of town for the next few months.

“Jungkook!” you finally hear yourself shouting, and his head immediately whips in your direction, eyes wide. This time, finally, he walks in your direction, and the relief you feel is so overwhelming that you can feel your legs grow weak under you.

“What the fuck?” he growls in a low voice when he reaches you. Normally, you’d try to figure out exactly what is going through his mind then — if he’s angry, if he’s surprised, if you’ve made a mistake — but right now, all you can do is exhale in relief.

“It’s war,” you say simply, voice low. “You need to get inside, and we need to call reinforcements for this place.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when Jungkook doesn’t budge and simply looks at you like you've just grown a second head, but it does take you aback. This kind of information would have been enough for you to formulate a dozen instructions — it was enough for you — and you curse yourself quietly for not realizing you needed to express it differently for him. Letting your emotions get the best of you like that… There was a reason why you didn't do that.

“What do you mean, it’s war? I thought you said they were lying low since you started hunting them—”

Your eyes keep darting between him and the street, trying to figure out where the threat is going to come from — because you don't doubt there is going to be a threat. Any second now.

“I was wrong,” you interrupt him. “You need to get inside, Mr. Jeon, please, until we figure out—”

“Don’t bullshit me, if it’s war I won’t be doing it from here, I’ll be—”

You tune him out when you hear a honk. A car arrived behind Jungkook’s. You see the drivers shouting at each other, before Jungkook’s driver gets in his. Quietly, you pray that you were wrong.

The car has moved less than a meter when it blows up.

Then it's chaos. People shouting and running, a burst of flames shooting up in the sky, the smell of burning gasoline.

Jungkook turns around slowly, shouts a name that you don't recognize but that you have to assume refers to the driver. He starts moving in the car's direction, but you regain enough control over your body to catch him at the last second. Your fingers wrap around his arm, and that makes him pause. He looks lost when his eyes find yours.

“Jungkook,” you say, barely more than a whisper, and he likely wouldn’t hear you if he wasn’t a hybrid, “you need to get inside.” Then your voice gets quicker as urgency replaces fear in your veins. You start saying out loud what your brain is processing in the moment, both because you need him to understand the severity of the situation and because you likely won't have time to fill him in later. “They just blew up a car in one of the richest areas of the city. Either they don't care about repercussions by the police, or they’ve already bought the police. Even if you weren’t in there,” thank God he wasn't in there, “they've sent a clear message. They won't stop at anything now. Either they will die in this fight, or—” You swallow, throat suddenly dry. “Or we will.”

Jungkook just stares at you for a few seconds longer. His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth, and then, slowly, his face hardens. His fingers close around yours, just a second, before he takes your hand off of him.

You hadn’t noticed you were still holding him.

You do, however, notice that the very tip of his fingers linger on your skin, and the gentleness of the gesture.

You choose to make nothing of it.

Once more, he looks at the car, before he looks at you again. He doesn’t look lost this time. He looks resolute.

“He’s dead already,” he tells you. “Let’s get inside and do— whatever it is you said to do. Call— whoever you need to call.” You nod, having to rush to follow his long strides back inside the building. “Let’s show those bastards.”

As the elevator doors close on the two of you, you find yourself staring at the burning car. It is a strong blow, to be struck in front of your headquarters. But Jungkook is alive, standing next to you, and filled with such determination that you want to believe in him against all hopes. So, instead of keeping your thoughts to yourself, you nod decisively.

“Certainly, Mr. Jeon.”

standard author's note: i'm sorry it took me so long, i hope you still enjoyed seeing oc and jungkook after all this time, i hope you'd missed them a little bit and you enjoyed their dynamic, and i hope you liked the chapter :) if you did, it would mean the world to me if you would reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask, everything is welcome! i wish you all a great day and i'll see you in the next one.

lengthy author's note: sooooo, it's been a while. if you've followed my blog you know i've been struggling with various stuff — first finishing my master's thesis, and then just. life in general and writer's block in particular. on top of that, with this story there's such a slow burn that everytime i step away from it, i'm afraid i'll pick things up 'wrong'. you know, if i make them too close/if i make them a step back, if i repeat myself too much (repetition of oc's thought-process is intended but only to a certain degree), etc. i hope this stil works. i'm also... idk, i guess i'm afraid of disappointing people after all this time. it's scary to think that people have waited for so long and might go 'oh, i waited all that time for this'.

and most people have been very sweet about the time i was taking to write the chapter and i'm not saying this to be all 'woe is me' or to get sympathy!! please know you don't have to read this and feel bad for me or comfort me lol, and vice versa if you didn't like the chapter it's all good lol. it's just... that's the kind of things that can make writing harder.

thank you for reading all that, genuinely seeing the continued interest in iicngyp on my blog and continuously getting asks about it by people who were so invested in the characters played a huge part in getting me to write and finish the chapter and i'm endlessly grateful for that. hopefully i'll see you a little sooner next time, and i wish you all the best!

[quokkatastic]

[SKZ] Written in Code

Kim Seungmin x Lee Youra

♥︎

Gang/Mafia AU - Friends (no other relationship evolution)

Triggers - Swearing, Violence, Blood, Sexism (dealt with), Struggles with Sexuality, Abduction/Child Abduction, Lying to Children, Sexual, Physical, Mental, Emotional Abuse (all mentioned or implied, some shown but not SA)

COMPLETED: ??/??/????

MASTERLIST / FRACTIONS

Summary:

Classmates in High School but complete strangers, Youra has had a crush on the quiet boy but was far too nervous to physically speak to him. So instead, in order to talk to him, she starts writing him letters and leave them in his locker. Overtime this develops to feeling more like “online friends”, but Seungmin was increasingly more curious about the mystery girl.

Who would have thought that she’d be in many places that he least expected…

Chapters:

(Lines through means it’s not published yet)

CH ONE; The Begining

CH TWO; ‘Hello’ Can Be Hard

CH THREE; A New Direction

CH FOUR; Cat And Mouse

CH FIVE; Hidden In Plain Sight

CH SIX; Fight or Flight, Or Just Be An Idiot

CH SEVEN; Soon-ish Came Quickly

CH EIGHT; Sleepover With A Menace

CH NINE; A… Girl? I Know Right

CH TEN; Changes

CH ELEVEN; What To Do With What You’ve Got

CH TWELVE; Moving Up The Ladder

CH THIRTEEN; The Past Bites Back

CH FOURTEEN; The Time Has Come

CH FIFTEEN; Do You Know Them Well?

CH SIXTEEN; Not At All As It Seems

CH SEVENTEEN; The Ring Of Fire

CH EIGHTEEN; Who Are You?

CH NINETEEN; We Wish You Good Luck

CH TWENTY; How Did You Get Here?

CH TWENTY-ONE; Don’t Be A Fool

CH TWENTY-TWO; TICK TOCK

CH TWENTY-THREE; Well That Was Rude

CH TWENTY-FOUR; And Then There Were Two

CH TWENTY-FIVE; Every Rose Has It’s Thorn

CH TWENTY-SIX; 4 + 1 = Can You Use Your Head

CH TWENTY-SEVEN; Here Goes Nothing

CH TWENTY-EIGHT; This Is Confusing

CH TWENTY-NINE; The Choice Is Yours

CH THIRTY / EPILOGUE; Pumpkin’s Adventures

[nighttimepixels]

Night,,, blease, I don't suppose u have.... mafia au thoughts

..... *glances over to current playlist*

*glances over to current commission WIP*

*glances to other open WIP*

*surreptitiously closes multiple tabs still open re: speakeasy era cocktails, kicks haitus’d literal mafiatale fic Speakeasy Soul into the pantry*

ᕕ(|||ᐛ )ᕗ 

Ahaha, what on earth makes you think that, sweet anon

[princessamericachavez]

i just want a VM AU where like 

the BW didn’t happen 

and the twins went back to Syngorn because they learned of their mother’s passing and decided to suck it up and stay with the one parent they still had or something 

and maybe Kiki’s mother did complete her Aramenthe so she didn’t have to travel at all... 

and then years later there’s a ball or smth and there’s the third son of Lord De Rolo, proper and elegant and pompous and totally not pouting because deep down he just wishes he could be home tinkering with his latest project 

and there are also the half-elf twins who are so serious and sullen, rumor has it they barely speak to anyone other than one another and both really really really don’t want to be here but this is one chance they have to make their father proud (hah, as if) for once

and then there’s Keyleth of the Air Ashari, nervous and shy and awkward, trying to be a good diplomat because her mother is off doing other important things and this is her family’s duty after all

and maybe for some reason these four kids in their twenties all end accidentally in the same corner of the ball 

and idk maybe kiki starts conversation with them (tries to, at least) because she’s nervous and doesn’t have many friends

and maybe, to Vex’s surprise, Vax replies because he knows all too well what it’s like to feel like an outcast in this kind of events and he wouldn’t do that to someone else

and mayyyyybe Lord De Rolo starts giving his son a “you better behave like the gentleman you are and come join the party, we have a reputation and duty to maintain in these diplomatic events” look from across the ball (Percy can practically listen to the nagging just with that one look)

so Percy, knowing what is expected of him, knows he needs to dance with someone, at least once, to get his parents off his back so he turns to the hot and scary woman next to him because she looks like the only person here who doesn’t want to dance and therefore won’t make him dance more than one song 

and Vex is even more stunned than before because in all these years in Syngorn no one, not one person, has asked her to dance (nobody would lower themselves like that in Syldor’s eyes, even if deep down they desired her) so she accepts (to both of their surprises -and Vax’s)

but Vex is too stubborn and distrustful and has been hurt too many times, so she immediately wonders if this De Rolo kid is being an asshole or playing a prank on her or something...

She can’t risk that. Not if she wants to earn her father’s approval for once. 

“Interesting move,” she says, while dancing, “but if Whitestone wanted to strengthen their ties to Syngorn there’s plenty of better choices for you to woo.”

And Percy isn’t even offended by the implication. He just says “Not a play. I couldn’t care less about politics. You just looked like the only person who wanted to be here even less than me.”

Vex doesn’t tell him about her father, or the expectations put upon her and her brother, nor how much her heart still longs for the woods every day ever since they chose to return to their father, or how she hates this uptight life even more than her bear does. She says “these events are rarely entertaining”

“I agree. They are just a bunch of unhappy people trying to pretend their money makes them special, even though you couldn’t get a single original idea out of them put together.” 

And Vex laughs and points out how hypocritical that is from someone that comes from money and he just shrugs “oh, no, I am brilliant.” and he’s so egocentric it’s almost charming. “I am an inventor.”

She laughs, finding the idea a little ridiculous. 

And that’s when shit goes down, of course. 

Something like a cult or mafia or monsters attack the ball (idk bare with me, I’m making this up the idea as i go)

The twins, of course, almost immediately forget about their current conversations and become laser focused on finding each other. 

Kiki and Percy follow them because neither knows what else to do. 

While there’s a mess going on and there’s royal guards from everywhere going down and these four are just trying to get out, stick to the shadows, make it out safe. 

The twins are good at becoming invisible (they learned a little of it in the streets during their time as runaways, and a lot more in the palace while trying to avoid everyone who looked down on them). Percy and Kiki are not. 

Bonus points if Keyleth unexpectedly saves Vax from an attacker and they are both surprised and delighted by it. “I had never fought anyone before!!!!!” 

Bonus bonus points if Percy, who is still his brave and daring self but lacks any kind of training or real life experience, tries to fight off an attacker and gets hurt 

Bonus extra bonus points if in the nick of time an arrow saves him and he sees Vex’ahlia, gorgeous in her ball gown but with a fierce glare, holding a fallen guard’s bow (she kept practicing after the woods, because archery is a proper sport for a lady with high blood, even if her father never fails to remark how unexceptional her marksman abilities are compared to full blood elves). 

Anyway, the four of them protect each other and make it out in one piece (more or less) by the time some adventurers, barely older than them, show up to save the day. 

The De Rolos and Korrin are of course both delighted and relieved to see their kids in one piece.

Syldor expresses an almost sarcastic “what a relief” and takes in their dirtied faces and torn clothes and undone hair, the two diner knives Vax keeps holding on to and the bow and arrow in Vex’ahlias firm hands, and looks utterly disappointed and embarased by them. 

Percy and Kiki notice.

Everyone, in a way, notices, to their utter humiliation. 

Anyway, not two weeks have passed when the first letter from Zephrah arrives. Keyleth writes to each twin separately (excitedly and warmly to Vax, nervous and reverently to Vex). They both respond, though Vax’s correspondence becomes far more frequent. 

Vax starts pressing flowers into his books. Vex makes fun of him, because she’s jealous and she hates to see her brother’s attention elsewhere. 

And then, nearly four months later, a package arrives for her. 

She’s annoyed at first because it must be Keyleth’s (no one else ever sends them anything) until she opens it. There is a bunch of different and curious looking arrows. Trick arrows. There’s no name from the sender, only a note: “Told you, I am an inventor.”

I am already thinking of a part 2 but I’ll leave it here for now because this little silly idea already got way out of hand byeee

EDIT: part two is up!

[jungk0oksthighs]

Ride Or Die | Steam

mafia!jungkook, druglord!jungkook, slight yandere!jungkook, smut, angst, exes au. 

Word count: 4k

Jungkook wakes up to a surprise visitor. Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, drugs, unhealthy co-dependant toxic relationship, explicit smut, unprotected sex, heavy angst & feelings. Important note: I do not condone nor enable this behaviour, this is fiction and irl relationships like this should not be tolerated or romanticised

MINISERIES COLLECTION

“Find her.” Jungkook bites through the phone with a racing heart.

His friend and right hand man Jimin audibly sighs, “We’ve tried boss… It’s like she’s disappeared.”

It’s been two weeks since you left Jungkookk standing alone in what used to be your shared apartment. He hasn’t seen your face in two weeks, not heard the sound of your voice for fourteen days… It’s killing him to say the least, especially when you’re making it so difficult for him to contact you to talk this out properly.

“Try harder, before your family members start disappearing for real.” He spits, ending the call abruptly.

Being a gang leader comes with a myriad of things – constantly and professionally breaking and evading the law, getting into fights, shoot-outs, the endless sea of drugs at his disposal… It’s no life for a twenty seven year old who’s trying everything in his power to better himself – hell it’s no life for anybody. And with you gone? The loneliness of this life is overwhelming.

For years you’ve been the only stable thing in Jungkook’s life, whether he deserves you or not is another story. You’ve always been there for him, even when he didn’t want you to be. You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re…everything to him. And now you’re gone, even Jimin and the others have no idea where you are, and that speaks volumes considering his gang bts usually have no issue with finding someone who doesn’t want to be found. It’s ironic really, how you’ve learned so much from his life.

It's when he finds an old pyjama set of yours in the bottom of his drawer when it hits him hard. You’re really not coming back. With a tight balled fist he hits the wall, knocking a hole into the smooth grey paintwork. He’s panicking, heart pounding, he doesn’t know what kind of man he is without you by his side.

You never agreed with his lifestyle, tried to talk him out of the bad decisions he made time and time again – until you realised your pleas fell on deaf ears. He was never going to change, and that’s what lead you to disappearing into the abyss.

Jungkook’s tried everything by this point: calling you, calling your friends, your family, showing up at your workplace with a potty-mouth full of threats for your co-workers if they didn’t tell him where you were. At first he wanted to find you to make things right, to apologise, to show you he’s not really the monster you fear he is. But now with a bloody fist and watery eyes, he knows you were right all along… He isn’t the man you fell in love with. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find you and show you that he can be that guy again, he’ll do anything it takes to win you back.

The next morning he wakes on the sofa, body stiff and sore. Ever since you left he’s been sleeping here with a shitty little blanket that barely keeps him warm. He can’t bring himself to wake up in bed alone, the sheets don’t even smell like your perfume anymore so what’s the fucking point? If you’re not there, he doesn’t want to be there either. He’s still wearing clothes from…three days ago. Personal hygiene has been the least of his worries, the only thought, the only person, the only thing on his mind, consuming every thought is you. Finding you before he forgets the shape of your face. He needs to know you’re safe. He needs to apologise. He needs to tell you he loves you even if it is just one last time.

It's as though you felt his distain and desperation from afar, because when Jungkook stands to stretch out the knots and aches in his body he freezes in place. You’re home.

“Y/N?” He has to double-check he isn’t dreaming or tripping when he sees you standing by the door. You’re wearing a crisp white blazer and mini skirt set. Your hair in a high ponytail, white stilettos give you an extra three inches of height. You look fucking amazing, meanwhile he hasn’t showered in days.

“Hi Kook.” Your voice is calm, calculated, and it makes every hair on his body stand on end and scream for more.

“What are you doing here?” He’s frozen in place, as much as he wants to run over to you, grab you and kiss you, he can’t move. Instead he stares at you with curious eyes, how are you so…okay? Is he the only one hurting? The question raised ignites a fire of fury inside him.

You peel your gaze from his, clicking your tongue, “You need to stop looking for me. You’re scaring a lot of people.”

At this Jungkook can’t help but chuckle, the sound is borderline evil, he doesn’t care about scaring people since it’s what he does for a living, you of all people should know that. “Are you threatening me baby? I wouldn’t have to look for you if you didn’t make it so difficult.”

“I didn’t come here for a fight,” You’re walking over to him, the sound of your heels clicking and clacking against the hardwood floor, “I came here to ask you nicely… Stop looking for me, stop threatening people I care about. Just stop this, stop all of this...please.”

“If you’re planning on walking back out that door you know I’m not gonna stop until I find you again.” He takes two steps closer, until his chest is almost flush with yours. You smell like passionfruit and mandarin shower gel, the same way you always do. “Whatever it takes.”

“Why?” You challenge him with confidence, the polar opposite to the vulnerable sobs you cried for him the last time you were here. “Why can’t you just let me leave in peace?”

“Because…”

Your brows are raised expectantly, eyes nervously searching his face, “Because…?”

A wave of desperation washes over Jungkook, his tattooed hand finds purchase on your jaw. His hold is gentle, featherlight, but it doesn’t stop your heart from hammering inside your chest. You’re intoxicated by his presence, his dark hair is slicked back exposing thick brows that are furrowed with confusion and hurt.

“Because I don’t want you to go.” His words cut you like a knife, your head is spinning when he closes the distance between your faces, his nose ghosting yours.

“Jungkook…” You let out a shaky breath, a warning that you can’t do this. But you don’t push him away, you don’t put up a fight, you don’t do anything save for stare at him through long eyelashes that are already fluttering with anticipation. Wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you, despite what he’s done. 

“…We shouldn’t, I came here to say goodb—”

Without a moment of hesitation he kisses you, one hand snaking to the back of your hair to keep you close, the other sliding down to your waist and gripping you hard enough to bruise. Finally, you’re back in his hold. Muscle memory takes over and he kisses you exactly how he knows you like to be kissed – tongue slipping into your mouth with ease before it entwines and dances rhythmically with yours. The sound of your soft moan sends a rush of blood to his pants, a feeling he can’t ignore.

It all happens so fast, a blurred frenzy of mutual desperation and greed.

He walks you backwards to the neutrally decorated bathroom all while unbuttoning your blazer, grunting in approval when he spots you’ve decided to show up here without a bra. Not that you need one, you had your boobs done two years ago and so they stay perfectly upright and in place no matter what you wear. His teeth almost clash against yours as he’s smiling, listening to the needy little whimpers you’re making that only rile him up more. You’re pulling his shirt off, manicured fingertips grazing the bumps of his toned abdomen before he sinks to his knees in front of you, unzipping the pathetic excuse for a skirt you’ve worn.

Oh you definitely came here for a fuck, why else would you wear a dainty white sheer g string that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. He slides it down your bare legs before working on your stilettos. When you’re completely naked you’re tugging his dark hair harsh enough for him to hiss, pulling him up to your mouth where you’re the one to initiate a series of lewd, sinful kisses while ridding him of the rest of his clothes. At this he picks you up effortlessly, slamming your back against the shower tiles before punching the switch, earning steamy hot water to cascade down your now completely naked bodies.

“Jungkook…” His name slides off your tongue a little too easily, your body aflame and craving his touch. He swallows your words and moans, caging you in his heavily tattooed arms that rest either side of your head. You don’t care that your hair and makeup are ruined, you don’t care that deep down you absolutely know you shouldn’t be doing this. All you care about is him, the way he kisses you so messily and hot as though he needs you just as much as you need him.

“Mmm…” He groans against your lips, taking a sponge and coating it with shower gel before dragging the sopping material slowly, oh so slowly, across your bare breasts. The bubbles drip down your body, like a trail of sin leading him to where you desire him most.

After briefly washing his own body, all while kissing you with your fingers deep in his hair, he pulls back to stare you down. His gaze is fierce, threatening almost. Hooded eyes drink in your features, the way your mascara is running down your cheeks, the way you’re already a panting mess for him.

“I’ve missed you baby.” Jungkook whispers, roughly gripping your jaw in a moment of blind panic, “Don’t do that to me again.”

“I-,” Your words are cut short when you’re being lifted, back shoved against the wet wall. On instinct alone you wrap your legs round his waist, your head lolls back with a small gasp at the coolness of the tiles. “Please…” You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging for, you were the one who left him. But now, as Jungkook’s lips are sucking and biting the flesh of your neck you can’t recall why. Steam and lust cloud your senses, you’re whimpering quietly, arms settled on his strong shoulders.

“Tell me you want me.” His pleas burn your skin, “Tell me how much you’ve missed me.”

“So much…” You admit with a gentle sigh, because it’s the truth, “I’ve missed you so much. I want you so bad Kook...”

“Then why…” Jungkook lines his now painfully hard cock up to your entrance, you’re already as wet as the shower which causes him to bite back a smirk. Slowly, he pushes inside. “Mmm…” It’s been so long since he’s felt you like this, his head is spinning and his balls are tight from the way your walls greedily welcome him, pulling him in to the hilt, “Why…did you run off like that, hm?”

“Not right now.” You shake your head lightly, trying to concentrate on the way he’s stuffing you, “Please… fuck me Jungkook.”

“You know you’ll always come back to me, right?” His eyes are squeezed shut from pleasure, he’s fucking you slowly, sensually, rolling his hips into you more gentle than he’s ever been. “Look at you. You’ve been here less than fifteen minutes and we’re already…” A small hiss cuts him off, you’re tugging the hairs at his scalp to pull his head back.

You’re looking at him with eyes that are drunk in equal parts lust and love. Ogling the way his pierced lip is tucked between his teeth, the way his stare is stuck on you, he looks so fucking sexy. His hands grab your ass tight enough to break something, but the only thing that breaks in this moment is your heart.

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me like it’s the last time.” You swallow, pressing your damp forehead to his.

“Why?” His tone is croaky, desperate and laced with sadness.

“…Because it is.”

Every reaction has an equal reaction, and your confession sparks electricity fuelled by fear and dread in the gang leader. This isn’t the last time, it will never be the last time. Not with you. In a frenzied display of emotions his mouth crashes to yours again, lips, tongues and teeth messily fighting for dominance when he picks up the pace. Rutting into you so harshly that your mouth falls open in a silent ‘o’. Too overwhelmed, too emotional, too stunned to react. His hips snap in and out of you at a dangerous pace, the sound of skin slapping wet skin floods the shower and encourages him to go faster.

“You really think you can find someone else who can you feel like this, hm?” He growls, his head bobbed just enough to nip at your throat as water cascades down the spans of his muscular back. He’s riddled with jealousy and insecurity at the mere thought, realising he can’t lose you, that’s just not an option. “Look at me.”

But you’re already too fucked out to realise what he’s saying, his huge length is bumping and banging against your sweet spot with every thrust. It’s when he delivers one particularly brutal snap of his hips that you shriek in equal parts pain and pleasure.

“I said,” He spits, holding your weight with one arm to grip your throat. That gets your attention. “Look at me.”

And you do, you watch him intently while the coil within you grows tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“You’re mine.” His words are followed by a series of kisses. You’re swallowing each other’s moans and grunts. Tears prick your eyes, your nails digging into his soapy skin hard enough to draw blood. “You’re never fucking leaving again, you got that?” 

Another painful thrust hits, one that has you sobbing from the sensitivity. It’s as if he’s punishing you for running away; the way he fucks you relentlessly, the hold he has on your neck, but in this moment you can’t bring yourself to care. It feels so good to have him fuck you like this, so sloppily, so desperately, like he’s scared of losing you.

“Kook…” You whimper, pulling his wet hair when the fire inside continues to grow.

“Gonna come for me?” He smirks, kissing your forearm, there’s no way you’d ever find another man who can make you come undone as quickly as he can. “But you’ve been such a bad girl Y/N…”

“I-, I’m sorry. Please.”

Overcome with lust Jungkook removes you from the tiles, holding you in his arms before turning and smashing you into the opposite wall. The shower head is directly above you, hot water glossing what little space lies between your heaving bodies. It’s going in your mouth, when you gasp for air you choke slightly and he revels in the sound. His hair is as soaked as your pussy while he continues to fuck you hard, as though his very existence depends on it.

Your thighs are like a vice grip around his waist, heels digging into his bare ass. You look so fucking sexy like this, mewling because of him, coughing and gasping because of him. He can’t help but smirk at the sight in front of him. When your hole clenches his throbbing cock he knows your close to reaching ecstasy and he speeds up, he’s hammering you so fast that his legs are shaking – but he doesn’t care. With one hand palming your ass he brings the other to your breast, already knowing how sensitive you are. His thumb glides over your nipple, earning himself a throaty moan from your end that sends a rush of heat straight to his balls.

“Come for me.” He demands, taking the flesh of your ear between his teeth.

Your makeup washes down your cheeks from the waterfall above, body slipping and sliding against Jungkook’s with every movement.

“Come for me baby, show me how much you’ve missed me.” His voice is rough against your neck, further fuelling the fire that’s about to explode.

“I’m-,” Your head kicks back with a groan, you welcome the heat from the water on your face and bare chest. “I’m gonna-, Jungkook!” Your whole body tenses in pleasure when a squirt of slick drenches your already soaked ex-boyfriend, your orgasm hitting you fast and hard just like the way he fucks you.

“Mmm, that’s it…fuck.” Kook aids you ride out your high, snaking his free hand down to your clit to rub out another orgasm less than ten seconds after your last.

“Fuck! Jungkook I-, I can’t—!” You try to warn him but it’s too late, you’re squirting again, more forcefully than the last time because you’re so sensitive, clit pulsing and banging in sync with his deep thrusts.

“Baby! Oh shit, fuck… You feel amazing.” The next thing you know his hand is on your throat again, squeezing hard when he kisses you with such desperation that it makes you see stars. You swallow his moans, tongue clashing against his with the added wetness of the downpour above you. Your fingertips are deep in his hair, legs trembling around his taught body, heart still pounding from the double euphoria you’ve just reached.

“Gonna come, shit I’m gonna come!” He barks, rolling his hips impossibly harder into your pussy, until the crown of his cock is bruising your cervix when he bottoms out with a guttural moan. Water continues to flow between and atop of you when he slows his ministrations to an eventual stop. You’re sore, bruised, out of breath and shaky.

Jungkook holds you in place, resting his large palms on your hips. Reality comes crashing down on him in the form of the shower above. He presses his forehead to yours, ignoring the tears threatening to drip from his hooded eyes. Reaching up he pushes the off switch for the water, still buried inside you, fearful of letting you go.

It’s silent, it’s cold, and it’s tense.

“You can put me down now…” Your airy chuckle causes his chest to tighten, he doesn’t want to but he obliges anyway. Pulling out and helping you settle on your weak legs. When you exit the shower you find a towel with ease, remembering exactly where you stored them when you lived here.

“Here… Let me help you.” Jungkook’s own legs are shaky when he makes his way over to you, grabbing a smaller towel to help dry your hair. And for a moment things feel almost normal, his body is shivering but he doesn’t care. Instead helping you dry off completely in the steaming bathroom.

“Kook…” You sigh, and he shakes his head with a frown.

“Don’t.” He wraps you in the larger towel, cradling you in his arms, “Don’t say it.”

“I miss you Jungkook, but I—”

The last thing you expected was for Jungkook to openly beg for you, giving he’s so proud, but when he sinks to his knees with his hands firmly on your body your heart breaks in two.

“I can change, I promise I can change. I will, I already have! Please baby, I love you so fucking much… Don’t do this, don’t go. Don’t leave me.” He’s crying now, real tears when he peppers your bare legs with kisses to mask his sobs, “I can’t live without you Y/N. I’m sorry. God I’m so fucking sorry…”

“Let go of me please.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat, but he doesn’t let up, “Kook, let me go…”

He shakes his head, “No, because I know if I let you go you’ll never come back.”

“Jungkook just stop this, please…” You plead, vision clouded by your own rush of emotions, “I can’t live like this anymore. I told you, I-, I’m done.”

“No!” He roars, standing up to tower over you with a dangerous stare, “No you’re not done. Because if you were really done with me we wouldn’t have fucked each other’s brains out just now. You need me just as much as I need you.”

“I-, I know. I’m sorry… This was a mistake.” You try to edge your way out the bathroom but he grips your wrist and pulls, winning you to slam back into his wet body with force.

His eyes are trained solely to your face, slightly covered by his dripping hair, “I promise you I’ve changed.”

At this you can’t help but scoff, “Really? Two weeks and all of a sudden you’re a new man?”

“I have—”

“Then tell me why our coffee table is covered in cocaine. What’s the problem?” You watch his face drop, “Didn’t think I’d notice? You’ve been threatening people I care about just to find me, you haven’t changed at all.” You spit, guilt and embarrassment coursing your veins. This was a mistake, you should’ve never come back here.

“If you walk out that door don’t think I won’t have my men searching for you day and night. Whatever it takes. I love you Y/N, don’t do this.”

“Love? Is that what you think this is?” You point at the space between your bodies, “This isn’t love.”

Jungkook’s jaw is set tight enough to shatter into pieces, just like his heart is about to, “Are you saying that you don’t love me?”

You know deep down, that this is the only way he’ll let you go.

Whatever it takes.

“No. I don’t.”

x

[holylulusworld]

Burning on my chest

Title: Burning on my chest

Square filled for @anyfandomkinkbingo​​: “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Square filled for @mcukinkbingo​​: I3: Wedding proposal

Rating: Mature

Summary: Your ex is the least person you expected to meet.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of past relationship/breakup, making out, almost smut, light hand job, coitus interruptus, implied smut, a hint of fluff, attempted semi-public sex, implied oral sex (fem rec), tattoed Steve, mafia au

A/N: Handsome is the reader’s pet name for Steve.

Words: 1,7k

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

AFG KINK BINGO masterlist 

2022 MARVEL KINK BINGO masterlist

“A pleasure to meet you,” the man says as you shake another hand, struggling to keep your tired eyes open. You hate the sound of your voice as you keep on making small talk. “We are glad you made it to the party.”

“OH, thank you for inviting me,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips. One that doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr. … Stark.” You add as you forgot the name of the man in front of you. “Would you please excuse me? I need to find my companion.”

“I hope to see more of you tonight,” he kisses your hand, lips lingering a little too long for your liking. “Miss Y/L/N.”

“Mr. Stark,” you pull away, fighting the urge to wipe your hand on your red gown. It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have listened to Natasha. The dress you are wearing is a little too revealing for some men to behave. “The pleasure was all mine.” It’s a blatant lie you sell so easily.

Natasha needs new clients and you, well, you need the distraction.

Heartbreak isn’t easy to forget about when you are the one breaking your heart by walking away.

“Y/N, I was looking for you,” Natasha coos while wrapping her arm around your shoulders. She guides you through the crowd chewing your ear up on your way as she doesn’t stop talking about all the hot guys at the party. “Did you find someone worth your time?”

“I wasn’t looking for someone,” she huffs as you wiggle out of her embrace. “I need a little more time to get back into dating mode. Just give me more time.”

“Babe, you broke up with the mysterious guy you told no one about. If he was the wrong guy, look for someone better. Or at least a hotter piece of ass,” she points at Tony Stark. “He’s elder but can fuck like he’s in his twenties.”

“How do you wanna know?” she snickers darkly as you roll your eyes. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“Hey, I was tipsy, he was tipsy. We fucked, babe,” Nat pats your cheek as your eyes round. “It’s not a crime to enjoy a good dick, you know.”

“Uh—not Stark. He’s kinda hot but not my type,” your friend shrugs your comment off. “I mean it, Nat.”

“Fine, go for one of the others. There are more than enough dicks to ride in this room. Just not Wilson. He’s mine tonight.”

“Wait, isn’t he engaged?” you glance at Sam Wilson, one of Natasha’s newest business partners. “Nat!”

“Nah, they broke up a month ago,” she whispers in your ear. “Now he’s going to be my newest conquest. I need to help him cope and all. A pity his ex was more into their gardener, isn’t it.”

“What a cliché,” you turn to leave the room to get some alone time. It’s tiring to spend so much time pretending you are not missing him. “Have fun, I guess. Just don’t break another heart on your way.”

“Maybe I’ll keep him,” she winks at you before pushing her tits up. “Here I come, Mr. Wilson. You’ll be in heaven tonight, or rather inside of me.”

“Crude—” Natasha walks off, chuckling at your comment. You watch her flirt with Sam for a while until you turn to leave the crowded room and hide in the restroom to get a moment of silence.

“What a pleasant surprise,” you feel a shudder run through your body as the voice you’ve missed so much fills your ears. “Did you miss me, doll?”

“I-what are you doing here?” twirling around, you face the man you left three months ago. “Steve, how did you get inside the mansion? It’s a private party.”

“I know,” he huffs. “I got an invitation, too. You know, most of the people inside the room do business with me.”

“What?” your eyes drop to his forearms. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the tattoo on his left arm. A snake wrapping around a phoenix, fighting the mystic creature with all might. “Stark and Wilson do business with you?”

“Natasha Romanoff, your good friend, is one of my best clients,” he lifts your chin with his index finger to draw your attention toward his eyes, not the tattoos on his arm. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.” His thumb swipes over your lower lip, making it tremble. “Did you miss me, too?”

“Steve, we can’t be together,” he moves his hand to your cheek to cup it gently. “Handsome, I can’t,” you almost whimper when his lips meet yours in a soft kiss. You moan into his mouth as he eagerly slips his tongue inside. “Steve.”

“I let you go, baby doll,” his hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss. You are helplessly lost in his taste and the heat coming out of his body. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you go to find someone else.”

“Steve,” the kiss gets more heated as your hands shoot toward his face to end up in his hair. “Handsome…baby, I can’t be with a man like you. You’re dangerous and your business is illegal.”

“I don’t fucking care. You belong with me, Y/N,” your hands grip his forearms, nails biting into his tattooed skin. “You’re my girl, my love.” You slide your hands over his arms up to his shoulders to grip him tightly.

“Show me,” he groans at your words. You always loved his wild side. He’s so unlike you when it comes to taking what he wants. His lips crush against yours as he tries to steal more than your breath. “Fuck me. Please.”

“You want me to take what’s mine,” Steve growls as you are busy ripping his dress shirt open to reveal the tattoos on his chest. “See, your tattoo is still burning on my chest.

He grips your hand to press it to his heart, nodding as you trace the tattoo with your fingertips. It’s an old-fashioned tattoo. A burning heart with ribbon and flourish design. His pet name for you is on the ribbon.

“That’s mine,” you stand on tiptoes to lick over the tattoo. “Only mine, Steve. Don’t let anyone else touch it.”

“Baby doll,” he easily hoists you up to carry you toward the washbasin. Steve takes his time to look you all over as if he wants to make sure you didn’t get hurt while he wasn’t around to protect you. “That dress kills me.”

“Take off your shirt, Handsome,” purring the words you run your hands up and down his chest. “Please, Steve.” You gasp as he guides your hands to his hips. Steve smirks as he shrugs the dress shirt down his shoulders to reveal his upper body to you. “Perfect as always.”

“Why did you leave me,” you unzip his pants to slip your hand into his dress pants. He places his hands on each side of your body, simply watching you work his cock. “Baby doll, tell me why.” 

His lips search yours and he hotly moans in your mouth when you finally take his cock out to swipe your thumb over the tip. “Steve, fuck me against the wall. I want to see your tattoos on the back in the mirror.”

“You’re crazy,” he hoists you up again to slam your back into the wall, he grunts, eagerly rolling his hips into yours. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, against the wall and you’ll watch me in the mirror.” Steve tugs at your clothes, grunting as your dress won’t give in. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Yeah,” you challenge while holding tight onto Steve. He claims your lips again, eagerly sucking your lower lip into his mouth. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“I want to reclaim this pussy and make her mine all over again,” Steve buries his face in your neck to nip at your sweet spot. You are engrossed in watching his back muscles flex, and the tattoos in the mirror, moaning as you love he got a new tattoo, a broken heart, carrying your name. “You’ll take me so well.”

You desperately rub your clothed pussy against his erection. “Please fuck me, Steve.”

“I’m on it, doll,” he laughs as you claw at his back. “Just let me—” Steve grunts as two women enter the restrooms. They start to scream the moment they find you and Steve making out.

“PERVERTS!” You laugh as Steve hastily puts you back down to stuff his cock into his pants. “GET OUT!”

While you pick Steve’s dress shirt up, he apologizes repeatedly. “Sorry, we just…uh—”

“We tried to have some privacy ladies,” you wrap your hand around his wrist to guide Steve out of the restroom to flee out of the mansion and end what you started somewhere else. “Have a pleasant night.”

“Fuck, that was something else,” you collaps on top of Steve, panting heavily. You lie on his sweat-slicked chest, laughing as he moves his hand to your ass to squeeze one cheek. “I’ve missed you so much, doll.”

“You mean you have missed fucking me,” he grins as you lift your head and glance at his lips. “Well, we are even. I love you for yourself, Handsome.” You kiss him greedily, tongue snaking with his. “But your cock is a bonus.”

He sighs as you lay your head on his chest. Steve caresses your neck and shoulders, softly letting his fingertips dance over your skin. “Never leave me again, doll. I wasn’t myself without you telling me what not to do.”

“You need a strong hand, Mr. Rogers.”

“Guilty, doll. How about you keep me in line for the rest of our lives?” he flashes you a smile when you lift your head to look him deep in the eyes.

“You’re lucky that you are cute, Mr. Handsome,” you tease. “That was the worst wedding proposal ever. You didn’t even go on your knees.”

“Not half an hour ago I was on my knees to lick your sweet pussy. If that wasn’t proof enough for you to say yes, I don’t know what you want me to do,” this time you slap his chest. “Doll, marry me. I know my lifestyle is not for you, but I promise to always keep you safe.”

“If you buy me a nice ring, I’ll think about it, Mr. Handsome…”

Tags in reblog.

[yuuyuu2]

JJH Fic Recs

main acc: @yunojeyes

Masterlist for fic recs: here

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| genre: fluff, angst, f2l!au, hanahaki disease |

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| genre: Hospital!Au, New Year’s Eve!Au, fluff, comedy

Working as a pediatric nurse in a busy hospital has both its pros and cons. Your dreams of ringing in the new year at a lavish party with a boy to kiss were ruined by the night shift but at least you had Dr. Jeong to keep you company when the clock strikes twelve.

- Feelings @ppangjae

| genre: fluff, slight angst, f2l!au, fake dating!au |

Jaehyun is just trying to help you meet new people and fall in love, but he didn’t quite think too far when he finds himself falling in love with you.

- A Lover's Fate (M) @jaevelina

| genre: Enemies2Lovers, CEO!Au, Arranged Marriage, Smut |

- Ordinary People @ppangjae

| genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, fake dating!au, friends to lovers!au, ceo!jaehyun |

Jaehyun’s parents are coming home for Christmas and he may have made the biggest mistake of telling them he has a ‘girlfriend’. Insert you, his best friend, who so happens to be the only girl he knows and trusts. You, on the other hand, would have never expected Jaehyun to show up at your door at two in the morning with nothing but a proposition; to be his fake girlfriend. And man, are you in big trouble.

- I Like Me Better (When I'm With You) (M) @tyonfs

| genre: Friends2Enemies2Lovers, College!Au, Sports, FWB, Smut, Crack, Fluff |

There was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. You never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts.

-All I Wanted (M) @yutaholic

| genre: angst, smut, happy ending |

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

- Beyond The Palace Walls @prettywordsyouleft

| genre: Royal!Au, Fluff, Adventure, Self-growth, Series |

Your father, the King, had always been highly protective of you. Nothing was to ever affect your life growing up, not even the common cold was allowed to greet you in the midst of the coldest winter. You loved your Father, you really did. You were his world but your own was too limited. Now as a young adult embarking on a journey to find who you were, it was very clear your path was blocked from all sides.

- Planet Girl @ppangjae When Jaehyun turned twenty-one, he started to hear his soulmate’s voice singing an unfamiliar song in his head. He should be happy, right? Wrong. There are two things wrong with this:

He’s taken. He’s off the market. He’s in a 3-year relationship and,

The voice singing in his head is not his girlfriend’s voice.

Now what?

| genre: series, soulmate au, cinderella au, cupid reader, college au, fluff, angst |

- Dusk Till Dawn @iridesuhnce

| genre: Mafia!Au, Slight Angst, Fluff, Series |

After finding out that her entire family syndicate has been practically eradicated by a new, rising enemy, and that she is one of the only two survivors, Y/N is left with the responsibility and the legacy of the company hanging heavy on her shoulders. With the persuasions of an old friend, the charm of a new ally and a captivation with an enigmatic assassin, she joins the notorious group ‘U’ in a hope to restore her family’s dignity, and to squash the new opposition before they can bring the same fate to any other organisation in South Korea

- Error 404 (series) @ppangjae

| genre: college!au, e2l!au, fluff |

You’d be considered lucky to have computer science genius Jeong Jaehyun as your TA, but not for academic reasons.

- Hello Again, My Sunshine @alluringjae

| genre: romance, angst, fluff | high school reunion!au, business lawyer!jaehyun, fashion designer!reader, high school best friends to strangers to lovers!au |

There’s no more running away when you’re thriving in the fashion industry, yet it’s exactly what you want to do when you encounter your first love after a decade in your high school reunion.

- Winter Bird (M) @yutaholic

| genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff, smut |

The time has come for your family’s annual vacation. You’ve convinced Jaehyun to accompany you, though you broke up months ago, and pretend to be a happy couple to appease your overbearing mother. But things take a turn when you and Jaehyun are the first and only ones to arrive at the retreat.

- June 24th @ppangjae

| genre: fluff, soulmate au |

Some share the same tattoos with their soulmate. Others have countdowns embedded in their skin, counting down the days left until they meet their soulmate. But you? You’ve stopped aging since you turned eighteen. You’re twenty-three now and on one fine day, fate decides to have you wake up and live that same day; the same 24 hours until you meet your soulmate.

Stuck With You @jae-canikeepyou

| genre: fluff |

Jaehyun and his friends plays the game again; that if one of them receives the lowest semester grade, the others will choose a girl for him to hang out with. however this time though, they stepped up, as it will be at the newly opened carnival for the whole day, handcuffed with you.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”  Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere​ for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.