#if i can never give you peace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years ago

Text

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

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 9.1k // 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): angst, guns, threats, generally dark, violence, car crash.

First · Previous · Next

Hours easily blend together when they’re left to stretch ad infinitum. That was a lesson that you had learned on the very first hectic night you had lived through under Mr. X. Back then, it had been a mere attempt at secession — one of the powerful groups of the Organization had thought they might be able to stand up on their own, without the Family’s support. They had wiped out all the people Mr. X had placed in one day, swift and efficient, and had announced their intentions mere hours after that. You remember that they had been delivered by a man bruised and bloody who could only slur his words, and you remember the thoughtful way in which Mr. X had tapped his fingers on his cane.

You didn’t think anyone in the Organization had gotten so much as a wink of sleep that night.

You had known from the second you had gotten the text that tonight would be no different. As a result, scrambled on the white board inside the conference room that you had not yet gotten the chance to inaugurate, were all the important events of the night.

6.00 pm: bomb goes off in front of HQ

6.34 pm: attack on a drug carrier exiting the harbor. cargo stolen.

6.48 pm: casino The Imperial announces its separation from the Organization. Followed by most similar establishments.

6.55 pm: raid

7.05 pm: departure from HQ

9.23 pm: attacks on two of Lucas’s clubs

10.58 pm: attacks on establishments under protection; two thwarted

2.41 am: storage warehouse burned down

5.10 am: altercation near the Circle. 8 dead, ? wounded. police intervention.

It had now been two hours since you had last received information you had deemed important enough to write it on the board, but your fingers still twitched in anticipation. People and informations had come and gone the entire time, and even now, your phone was still buzzing every few seconds, your eyes scanning the messages quickly as they appeared. Numbers, locations, defections, all things you would have to file after getting some sleep.

None of them had quite managed to shake you out of the numbness you had been feeling since the raid of 6.55 pm.

You had been the first one to get the texts, but Jungkook and Suga had not been far behind.

‘Descent on hybrid district,’ the text had read. ‘Scorched earth’.

Jungkook’s face had darkened, murderous rage filling his eyes. You hadn’t tried to hold him back after that, even the fear you felt for him not quite managing to seep through the horror you had felt at that statement.

This was a targeted attack. There were numerous innocent families, children, people who were just living their lives in the hybrid district. This was intended purely to hit where it would hurt Jungkook the most.

It had worked as intended.

You had attempted to send Hector home at eleven, since there were still men left in the building, but he had simply shaken his head. He was now sitting on a chair, by the door, in a drowse. He did not even stir when you made a phone call, but you had noticed his eyes lifting whenever there was a noise outside. You supposed you would feel guilty about it if there had been any room left for guilt within you in the last twelve hours.

The flow of information had been non-stop, and what you were putting out was almost as consequent. After that first night, Mr. X had compared you to a computer, able to treat the data in seconds and to figure out the best course of action from there. You had been the one who had been responsible for the plan that had effectively choked the opposing group to death. All exit routes methodically cut, all options taken into account.

None of them had made it out alive.

Tonight, you had done everything in your power to ensure that your side would not be put in the same situation.

“You might wanna head home, ma’am,” Hector suggests from his seat, and you look up at him. Your eyes have been open so long they burn.

“I probably won't be long,” you reply, and even you don't manage to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “Just a few minutes more.”

You see, in the way that his eyebrows rise, that he does not find your decision to be judicious, but he doesn't say anything and you're thankful for that. If he did, you might have to confront the real reason you’re insisting on staying here, awake, and that is because you're desperate to hear from either Jungkook or Suga. Though you have gotten messages from people surrounding them — few and far between, as you don’t have that many informants around there — and they seemed to still be alive a few hours ago, it’s been a long time and you just—

God. You just want to know that Jungkook’s okay. You just want to know that he’s found somewhere safe and that he’s managed to minimize the damage. You know, realistically, that you would have heard far more about it if that wasn’t the case, and yet there’s this deep, dull throbbing in your chest that has not gone away once since Jungkook walked out the door, prepared for a fight to the death — though you doubted he had feared it would be his death.

And so, even though you should, you cannot find it in yourself to abandon your seat, to allow your eyes leave your phone for even a second.

The call comes long after you’ve stopped expecting it, and you pick up in an instant, index finger sliding on the screen.

“Hello?”

“They’re gone,” Suga’s voice comes through the phone, thick and tired. “We’ve run them out of the district. Gonna stay a bit to ensure no one comes back but—” There are some intelligible words coming from behind him. “By the time we arrived, they had barricaded themselves in a bar,” he sighs after barking an order you don't catch. “It took a while.”

“I see,” you say. “Are there many losses on either side?”

“Lots of wounded on ours, a few dead.” And then, with cold, furious satisfaction: “On their side, everyone.”

“Good,” you reply, and you surprise yourself with how sincerely you mean it. “I will call for an emergency meeting tomorrow. Will you and Mr Jeon be able to attend it, or have you been injured severely? Do you need me to call one of our doctors?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the line.

“We’ll make it,” he finally answers. “But yeah, send someone to Jungkook’s place.”

Your heart jumps painfully in your chest, and you have to steel yourself to stop your voice from wavering.

“Is he alright?”

“He'll be fine,” Suga just says, and though it does nothing to calm your worry, you drop the subject. It should be enough to you, knowing that he’s alive and mostly okay.

It isn’t.

“Good. In that case, I will see you both tomorrow.”

The second the call ends, you’re getting up from your chair, Hector already on his feet.

“There’s a car waiting for you, and I’ve had men check out your apartment, ma’am.”

You nod at him thankfully. For a second, at the door, you think you’re going to falter, that your legs won’t be able to carry you any further. But they do, they always do, taking you one step further even when you feel you cannot, simply because you have to.

And they will carry you tomorrow as well, and the day after that, and the day after that. Never once allowing you to collapse.

The atmosphere is crackling with tension when you walk back into that very same room the next day. In a glance, you verify that every person who you had thought would answer the call yesterday, based on the new developments, is here. A sigh of relief bubbles in your throat, but you keep it contained as you make your way through the room, setting your computer down next to the place where Jungkook would soon be sitting.

The faces around the table are all more or less familiar, but their dark expressions are not. Fred Lucas’s signature smile has been wiped from his face, the corner of his lips pointing downwards. His usually impeccable suit is crinkled, and dark circles seem to have been dug under his eyes. He looks like he’s taken on ten years in the last night. He doesn't even bother nodding at you.

Most of the other humans here are more or less in the same state, but some of the hybrids look significantly worse for wear. They have to be the ones that joined Suga and Jungkook the night before, several of them sporting significant injuries. Your eyes land on Junho, and you instinctively dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from flinching. You can see a compress on his neck, coming out from underneath a black shirt, but he doesn’t seem to be doing too badly.

You find some comfort in it — not because of him, but because in that sight, you find some hope that Jungkook won’t be doing too bad either.

“You got a problem?” he snarls, baring his teeth at you and you realize in horror that you’ve been staring.

This doesn’t happen to you. This never happens to you and, fuck, this is why you can’t ever let your guard down. Fear sets your veins on fire, and though your mouth opens, you have no idea what to reply.

Shit. Shit.

“I’m sorry you got injured,” your tongue miraculously answers even as your brain remains frozen, and you’re thankful for the years of training you have in this. He growls, pushing himself up on the chair. The movement seems fluid and easy, confirming your impression that he isn’t too severely injured, but this time you don’t let yourself get caught in that thought. Instead you brace for impact, straightening your back. You know that it’s your voice that set him off, that it was too flat and even, that it didn’t carry any concern. You also know that Hector is staring at you, just waiting for a nod from you to intervene, and that Fred Lucas’s hand has come to rest lightly on his belt, near the gun you’ve been informed he’s carrying by security.

The fear doesn’t quite leave you, but you’re not afraid of him anymore.

“Listen to me you—”

“Fucking drop it, Junho,” Jungkook’s tired voice orders as he walks in through the door.

“She just—”

“Welcome back, Mr. Jeon,” you interrupt him, bowing your head in his direction politely.

Your eyes meet his when you look up. Your gazes lock for a second, and your legs almost go weak from the overwhelming relief that washes over you. You only allow yourself a second to take him in fully, to see for yourself that, though he walks with a small limp, one hand over his abdomen, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

He’s still staring at you with an undecipherable expression once you’re done with your brief check.

“If you would please take a seat,” you say, and you don't know if your ears are deceiving you or if your voice is indeed softer in that moment, “there is a lot we have to cover today. The sooner we can start, the better.”

“Sure,” he says and, despite his obvious injuries, he makes his way through the room with wide strides, letting himself fall on the chair next to you with a groan. Suga leans against the door, golden eyes watching over everything. He gives you a nod so small you think you might have imagined it. You certainly cannot think of anything you would have done to earn it, but you suppose events like what happened last night would have that kind of effect.

You press a key on your computer, and a slide appears behind you.

“For an overview of what happened last night—”

“What I’m saying is that you don't win a fucking war with fucking Powerpoints—”

“If you had two working fucking braincells, you’d see that we need to know the situation we’re in before we decide on—”

“None of you now what it’s like to actually fight your own fucking—”

“You’ve been in this position for two goddamn—”

You’re not sure why Jungkook is letting the argument unfold, insults shouted from across the room as no one listens to the answer nor seems particularly interested in reaching a productive decision. Mr. X would not have let that slide, you know that, but you also realize that no one would have dared raise their voice in his presence. Mere suggestions were uttered begrudgingly, as even some of the most powerful people in the Organization cowered in front of him. His word was law, and he didn’t hesitate to use that to pit people against each other.

You wonder for a second if that is what Jungkook is doing too, letting the tension build, dividing to conquer, but it doesn't seem to be the case. He doesn’t look amused by the situation, dark eyes attentive to everything going on in the room — for once, certainly more focused than you are. Slumped in his chair, probably to protect his injured side, you notice his fingers tapping on the table at a fast rhythm.

“Will you be taking on more security?” you ask quietly, knowing that it likely won’t be picked up on by the hybrids in the room, considering the degree of agitation.

He throws you a surprised glance, eyebrows scrunching either in confusion or from being torn away from the spectacle, you can’t tell.

“Why would I do that?”

“There will likely be more attempts against your life from now on,” you reply. “Having a couple of guards should deter some and ensure that you remain safe.”

“I can do that myself,” he says, though not quite with anger. “If anyone should take on more security, it’s you.”

You think of the gun that’s in your purse at this very moment, that you checked before leaving your apartment was filled with ammunitions, even though you’ve not once emptied it, and then you glance at Hector, who is surveilling the situation, arms folded over his large torso. You don't think anyone could keep you safer than he can, but that’s not what you tell Jungkook.

“That might be a good idea indeed,” you nod. “I will look into it as soon as we’ll have decided on a course of action here. I can also look for some men for you in the process.”

His frown deepens, a flash of anger in his eyes, and he opens his mouth, obviously ready for a sharp retort, before closing it again to study you. Under the attention, you feel your face growing warm. You have no idea what he’s looking for, but you’re all too aware of the way his eyes search yours, roaming over your expression like there is some sign in there that he cannot find. Finally, he leans back in his seat with an annoyed sigh and closes his eyes.

“You need to stop interfering in my business. I’ll have Yoongi around, and that’ll be more than enough.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You should drop it.

“Would you consider having at least one additional man until your injuries heal?”

If it were up to you, he wouldn't leave the building without a full escort, but you’re— you’re trying, dammit.

“It’ll be fine in a couple of days, the knife didn’t go that d—”

“The knife?”

His eyes snap open at your tone, and you're not quick enough to school your features back to normal. He catches something on your face this time, though you’re not sure what — could be shock, could be fear, could be sadness or anything else — but again, there’s that spark of satisfaction in his eyes, and you feel yourself retreating immediately.

“Suga didn’t inform me of that,” you say, voice as emotionless as ever. “I suppose it’s—”

“Just— get me the dude. Or dudes. I don't care. I’ll get rid of them when I’m healed.”

It’s your turn to try to find something in his expression and to fail. You just can't seem to understand what he's doing these days, but you bite back the question you desperately want to ask. This is a positive in your book, and it’s probably better not to ask.

“I… will,” you finally say with a slow nod, unsure of what just happened there and unable to make sense of it. His eyes don’t leave yours, but his expression falters.

“Do you—”

“Listen to me you son of a bitch, you don’t get to—”

You both snap back to the room, in which two men have almost come to blows. One of them holds the other by the collar, while that one is reaching for something in his pocket that has to be either a knife or a gun. Just as you open your mouth, Suga appears between the two and they suddenly let go of each other without him having to say a word. He looks small, both in frame and in height, between the two, but you remember the day he took out some of Mr. X’s best men too well to underestimate him based on that.

“Alright,” Jungkook says, “what’ve you got, Yoongi?”

“No one’s expecting us to counter-attack this quickly, so I say we go for it,” Suga shrugs, and some in the room holler in approval while others grimace and shake their heads. “But we should only go against one district for now. After last night, it’d be suicide to do anything else. We have the city pretty well mapped out, so I say we try to eat at them slowly for the time being, then see what happens.”

Jungkook nods, then glances at you.

“What about you?”

One blink, and the surprise you feel at the question is gone.

“The casinos will be under heavy surveillance,” you say, “so they should be avoided for now. Based on the intel we got, it seems last night’s attack came from some of the Families that are mostly involved in the protection business, so it would make sense to go after them first. Some inner reorganization will also need to be done to ensure drugs are still being passed smoothly and ideally to block the supply for the other side. I can start looking into that.”

“Alright. Junho?”

The shark hybrid starts to answer, followed, one by one, by all the people present in the room. You scribble some notes down, watch Jungkook shoot down some ideas, tell people who to work with, and you certainly notice the glances exchanged by the people who, like you, were used to working with Mr. X. Though some seem skeptical, none appear to view it as a sign of weakness, which is a good sign.

The meeting is starting to fizzle out — roles have been attributed for the most part, only a few details remain to be explained — when a security guard walks in.

Immediately, a room full of some of the most dangerous people in the city, if not the country, spin around to glare at him, and he takes a cautious step back.

“Um, ma’am,” he says, looking somewhat relieved once he’s found you, “I have someone downstairs who says they have business with a Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook sits up straight, and you hold back a curse. You’ll need to tell them to give the information to you in private next time.

“And who’s that person?”

“A lady called… Anna Xanders?”

Great. Great.

As Anna makes her way towards the conference room, the only people left inside waiting are yourself, Suga and Jungkook. You wish he hadn’t allowed her in the building, but you hadn’t made that opinion known, all too aware of the fact that it wouldn’t be well received. He was the one who had asked the two of you to stay, though, and that meant that you had to fight every fiber of your body to stop yourself from fidgeting. Above all, there was the creeping fear that he’d go back to the Circle after meeting with her, when he was in no state to do so.

Suga looked unbothered, but then again, so did you. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed, and you supposed that had to be somewhat close to what he was really feeling.

“You shouldn’t be seeing her,” Suga says flatly. “Unless you want me to kill her.”

If that was the case, she should be taken to a remote location first. You didn't want that happening in the building. It would be a pain to get cleaned up.

“I’m not killing her,” Jungkook replies, rolling his eyes. “Just want to know what she has to say.”

You suppose in any normal situation, that would be good news, but in this case God do you wish he wanted to kill her.

Through the opaque glass, you make out her silhouette, leaving you a few seconds more to prepare yourself. One deep breath, one more attempt at getting rid of the surprisingly strong emotions swirling in your stomach, and then she opens the door.

She’s wearing all black, save for a long, elegant white scarf. She’s still carrying that look of hurt dignity, head held high, blonde hair falling down on her shoulders and behind her back. It must be so easy to fall for it, hook line and sinker, you think. Maybe if you made yourself look hurt, you would benefit from people’s sympathy as well.

Or maybe you would be dead.

“Jungkook,” she says, and then she releases a shaky little breath that makes her look weak under the strength she’s trying to present, and you refrain from rolling your eyes.

She is just as in control of herself as you are.

“Anna,” he replies, and you’re relieved that he at least doesn’t look impressed nor moved by the spectacle. He just looks somewhat— bored. “What do you want?”

There’s a look of hurt on her face at his direct approach, but she conceals it quickly.

“I— I heard about what happened last night,” she says softly. “I just wanted to check on you. I know— I know you haven’t replied to me and you probably don’t want to see me, but I— I just needed to know you were alright.”

You clench your teeth, unusual rage constricting your chest. Surely he’ll know that she didn’t once check on him when he was at the Circle, surely he’ll see through—

“Replied to you?” he asks, rising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, haven’t you…?”

You certainly don’t miss the tiniest spark of satisfaction in her eyes, even if she glances down to the floor to hide it. Jungkook glances in your direction with a frown.

“Anything suspect must have been thrown away,” you reply with a shrug. Not a truth, but not a lie either.

“Surely flowers aren’t suspect,” Anna says, and though her voice remains soft, you know that she’s annoyed, probably less because of your interference than because it means you have power over her. You’ve always been beneath her, at her beck and call. Now, she is the one who’s nothing.

“They’re an inconvenience to hybrids if they smell too strongly,” you say.

“But the engraved knife wasn’t,” Anna adds, sounding just a little too triumphant, and you annoyingly miss a beat to answer her, unsure what she’s talking about. A knife…?

“Oh, yeah, we assumed it was probably a threat,” Yoongi drawls from the other side of the table. “Figured there was no reason to bother the boss with it.”

Anna’s quick to mask her defeat, letting a small, soft ‘Oh’, while Jungkook rolls his eyes once more — but you’d swear you saw a grin on his lips.

“Next time, just transfer it,” he says. “I can deal with that shit. What d’you want?”

“Right, sorry, I— I just wish you and I could talk. There’s— so much I never got the chance to tell you, and I— I think I could help you with some of the issues you’ve been having. Many people are quite loyal to me, because of my father, you know. I’m sure I could have some sway over them and ensure that you and— and everyone remains safe. If that’s something you’d like, of course.”

Of course, your first thought is that this offer should be rejected. Anna should not be trusted, not in any scenario. The second one is more… puzzled. You know for a fact that she wasn’t very involved in the Organization, even if she very much enjoyed the money and status her father’s identity offered her. Could she have been approached by people? Was she trying to test the waters, to see who the highest bidder would be?

There was not much loyalty towards Mr. X, just fear — in most circles. Those who were loyal, you should be able to look into fairly easily. Maybe that was something you should get on, when you’d get a second.

“Yeah, that may be a good thing,” Jungkook says, and you jolt back to the present scene just in time to avoid throwing him a horrified look. Instead, you slowly tilt your head in his direction. Nothing. He’s not smiling, doesn’t look particularly annoyed either.

“There are other ways to gain loyalty,” Suga comments, and you know Jungkook also hears the dangerous, warning edge in his voice. Clearly, he wants this as little as you do.

“And we'll look into them as well,” Jungkook says, tone final. “What do you say? Do you want to schedule a meeting?”

A lovely blush colors Anna's cheeks, and she coyly pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

You could rip her face off.

“How about having dinner together?”

Again, no emotions from Jungkook.

“That works too.” He glances at you. “Think you can find a time?”

“You’re going to be quite busy from now on,” you say, mostly stalling to swallow down anger, worry, and other things you don’t want to dwell on. “But I suppose I could arrange for you to have some time free next week.”

“Oh,” Anna says, softly, “this might be urgent, don’t you think you—”

“Next week it is then,” Jungkook interrupts her, giving a nod of approval in your direction. “We’ll handle the details.” Then he lifts his chin to point at the door. “You know the way.”

She presses her lips in disappointment, but that fades in favor of the victory she’s just gained — and which she knows she’s just gained over two of Jungkook’s closest advisors. Suga is obviously seething, and she knows you well enough to be able to tell. You can only watch as she exits the room.

She’s good enough of an actress not to smile until she’s out of sight.

“You two don’t get to decide that shit for me,” Jungkook’s voice resonates in the silence that follows. You expected anger, but there’s none there.

“We wouldn’t have to if you made good fucking decisions,” Suga hisses. “What the fuck are you doing? We’re not taking her in. She’d have sold her own fucking father to make it that day.”

“I know.”

“Then what—”

“My problem. Not yours.”

There’s a growl, and then Suga’s storming out, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Not a situation you want to be in right now, so you bow politely in his direction.

“If you'll excuse me, Mr. Jeon, I—”

“Why’d you hide the roses from me?”

He’s just asking, you see it in his eyes. The lie, or the half-truth, that you didn’t want him to ally himself with her, comes to you easily, fully formed. But it’s not what ends up making it past your lips.

“Last time you heard from her, you had to be picked up from a bar, where you got into a fight with a customer after hours upon hours of fighting at the Circle. I don’t believe that she is... good for you, Mr. Jeon.”

There’s more, too, but that will have to do for the moment. Even now, your entire body is screaming at you that you shouldn't have revealed that much about yourself, and there’s nothing you can do to calm your thundering heart.

Jungkook stares at you, then speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“I won’t do it this time.”

“Certainly,” you nod, “I’m sorry I—”

“No, I— I won’t do it this time. Seriously.”

You don't know what to say to that. You haven’t got a clue. What you do know is that Jungkook is looking straight into your eyes, your heart is pounding in your chest, and you’re sure that you're letting things show on your face that shouldn’t be here.

So you don't say anything — don't trust your voice, really, not when the rest of your body is failing you treacherously —, nod.

And then you flee.

If you could avoid it, you don't think you would leave the office at all in the days that follow. You have considered transforming one of the offices into a small bedroom anyway, it’s always good to ensure there is place for people to rest — or to discreetly operate on someone who cannot go to a hospital because the wounds would raise too many questions — and in the current circumstances, anytime someone highly ranked in the Organization takes a step outside, they are putting their lives in danger.

Of course, everyone else is aware of that, and none of them would limit themselves in such a fashion, but the difference is that you hear about everything. Every attack is brought back to you, whether it is threats hurled at someone from across the road, a stabbing in an alleyway, or a car chase on the freeway. If someone switches allegiance, you’re the one who writes it down and updates the relevant people. If there’s a shootout, if a car burns down, if a gun goes missing—

You. It all comes back to you.

You suppose it makes sense, then, that you are the one who wants to take the most precaution to protect your life, though you know others are doing it as well. Fred, you’ve heard, doesn’t stray outside of the area he has full control over. You’ve also been told that even Junho has barely been seen outside of the hybrid district, not even showing up to the Circle. They could afford that, but you still had to leave your apartment every morning to take your car — was anywhere more dangerous than these metal boxes these days — and get to work.

Yet you kept doing it.

It wasn’t that you thought they couldn't get to you, you were nowhere near that naive. You had reinforced your security, were always followed by a second car, and you had men keep an eye on your apartment day and night, but even then you knew issues could arise. Corruption, carefully planned attacks, or even sheer bad luck, everything was possible and there was no way of accounting for it all. It had worked out for you so far, which you took as a sign that you were doing your job well, but it could all change at the drop of a hat.

It wasn’t some stupid, self-sacrificial decision either. You supposed some people in this new version of the Organization might see it that way, those who were loyal to Jungkook to the death. Thinking that there was something ‘noble’ about putting their lives on the line. The idea could almost rip a laugh out of you. There was nothing noble about your job, no matter who you were working for. You were receiving word of enough stabbings, arsons and grand larceny coming from your side not to have any illusions on the topic.

You were also fully aware of how important your role was in the Organization at the moment. You had tried to make yourself indispensable earlier, and now you were, without most of your previous efforts having played much of a role in that. It seemed that you shone through specifically in times of crisis. If something happened to you right now, you would not be replaced easily. And yet, every morning and every evening, you still stepped out of the towering glass building that was the current headquarters, and went back to your apartment.

Because, once more, it all came down to the image you were giving.

If the number three of the Organization didn’t dare to walk outside, if she didn't trust her own men to protect her, if she didn't believe that she was powerful enough to protect at least herself, then what was the rest of them to do? Lie down and await death?

You had even hesitated before taking on additional protection, only allowing yourself to do so because you thought that Jungkook’s presence and his very visible confidence in the people that surrounded him could counteract the fear that that decision would display coming from you.

‘Thought’. Ha.

The right word would be ‘felt’, but you didn’t make decisions based on feelings. You never did.

You weren’t going to start now, were you?

If you felt uneasy going to and then coming back from work, that was nothing compared to way your agitation spiked when you travelled through town with Jungkook. The two of you being together like that, that made you the easiest, most interesting preys, like pheasants’ release on the opening day of the hunting season.

You could explain the decision by pointing to the image it gave once again, but you weren’t sure if that wasn’t crossing the line between confidence and simple stupidity. Maybe you should have fought Jungkook harder on it, but the truth was you had barely brought it up. Because if you were in the car with him, even if that put the both of you at risk, it at least meant that you didn’t have to spend your days in fear of the phone call that would tell you he’d died.

What was wrong with you these days, you couldn’t have explained.

At least, as he’d told you, he had mostly healed from his injuries in less than a week, which allowed him to sit comfortably across from you, back straight, legs spread, as he looked out at the city with the eyes of a man who knew he owned most of it. His long ears were, as always, skillfully hidden underneath a discreet, black hairband. It made you wonder how much of his behavior was a façade. He was, clearly, at least as aware of the importance of the image he gave as you were.

You weren’t faring quite as well as him, though. You knew that, despite your best efforts and your years of work, there was tension vibrating through you that you couldn’t quite hide. It was in the slightly too quick cadence of your voice, in your movements that were just a touch too jerky, in the glances you were constantly throwing around the car — rear-view mirror first, then windshield, then left and right windows.

There had been two attempts against the two of you since the war had begun. Both had been easily thwarted, and none of them involved firearms, but you knew it was a question of when, not if.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls, and you're thankful that you at least don’t jump at that, but you’re still too quick at looking in his direction.

Dammit. You need to get your rhythm under control.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He rolls his eyes, you think at the name you use rather than at you. You don't know what he wants you to do with that. He’s the one that asked you to call him that.

“I know you don’t do chill, but seriously, you’re going to explode if you keep it up.”

“There’s a war going on, Mr Jeon.” You think you manage not to sound reproachful. You wouldn’t want him to be in the same state you are. You just can’t help yourself.

“I’m aware,” he replies and, where an explosion would have occurred just a couple of months ago, there’s only a frown on his face. “This still isn't helping.”

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re allowing yourself a deep breath. When you do, when you brain starts screaming at you, asking you what the fuck is going on, you’ve already done it, and all you can do to try and save face is stop yourself from freezing like a deer in headlights.

Jungkook is just looking at you. You see something twitch in his jaw, his fists clenching, and then he’s the one who looks away, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“You might be right,” you say, dropping the usual ‘Mr. Jeon’ but unable to bring yourself to call him Jungkook, “but this has kept me alive so far. I— have no reason to believe that anything else would do the same.”

He closes his eyes shut for a second, then he looks back at you. His elbow is resting on the window, thumb hovering a few millimeters from his lips. He looks at you — really looks at you, takes you all in — and you feel a now familiar burn spreading over your body. You have no idea if he can tell.

Right now, you're not even quite sure whether you want him to or not.

He opens his mouth.

And that is you catch movement from the corner of your eye, and before you can turn your head, shock explodes through the car and then it's spent spinning.

Your hand shoots for the handle and you hold on to it desperately, eyes tightly shut, pulled back against the seat with bruising force by your seatbelt. You hear the window exploding, feel the tiny cuts the shards of glass leave on your skin, hear Jungkook curse, the smell of burning tires reaches your nose, your stomach lurches in your chest, and then it stops, but there is no time for the ringing silence to settle. By the time you manage to open your eyes, heart pounding so loud you think it might escape from your rib cage, there’s shouting outside, and then Jungkook’s pulling your head down as shots start to ring.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hand still in your hair, as his body forms a shield between you and the direction the shots are coming from — you think, you’re too disoriented to tell at the moment, but he seems not to hesitate. What does hit you in that moment, when you inhale, trying to bring air into your frozen lungs, is the earthy smell coming from him, touches of pine, probably from his soap, and something musky that is definitely him.

If you could slap yourself for losing the precious second that thought takes to formulate, you would, but at least the rush of something that this proximity sends through your body easily blends with everything else happening at the moment, and Jungkook doesn't seem to notice.

“We’re followed by another car,” you manage to say, though the words stumble out of your mouth way too fast, “they should take action—”

“Yeah, but we still need to get out of here,” he growls. “We’re too good of a target. They’ll get brave and get closer any time now.”

You have to take his word for it. You’ve never been in that kind of situation before. Adrenaline is running through your veins almost painfully and you feel your fight or flight reaction kicking in — with one hundred percent of your energy going towards ‘flight’. One glance in the direction of the driver tells you that he’s slumped over the wheel, possibly unconscious, but likely dead.

You should probably feel more at that thought than annoyance at the fact that you’re going to have to replace him, but truth is if you felt sadness over every death that happened in this city, you would have crumpled a long time ago.

The loud screeching of tires on concrete outside tells you that the reinforcements have arrived.

“Alright,” Jungkook says. “That should buy us some time.”

For the first time, he looks down at you. Your heart flutters inappropriately — oh my God, just shut the fuck up — when you meet his eyes, but all it solidifies is the fact that he, unlike you, knows exactly what he's doing. In that moment, you don’t doubt for a second that, if you make it out alive, it will be thanks to him.

He kicks open the door behind him, the one facing away from all the turmoil. One of his hands holds a vice-like grip on your wrist, pulling with him in that direction. You stumble after him, your heels wholly unadapted for the situation, and crouch behind the car as he glances over it to surveil what’s happening.

The shots, briefly interrupted by the arrival of the second car, are picking up again, and with them your heart rate. You manage to take in the surroundings, but there isn’t much to be gained from it. It’s a quiet area by the river, long stretches of concrete and not a soul in sight.

You’ll have to do a better job at keeping to more populated areas.

“I think they only have one car,” Jungkook tells you, crouching back down next to you.

“So do we, for now,” you say with a frown. You have enough safety protocols in place to think that the men that are here must have called for help the second they saw something was wrong, but for now the forces are pretty much in equal number.

Which means that you’re stranded next to wrecked car, on a road on which nothing can move at the moment. The two of you might as well be sitting ducks.

Your phone buzzes and you fish it out of the purse that you have somehow kept in your clenched fist this whole time. As you open your hand, you grimace slightly at the traces your fingernails have left inside your palm. Shit. You didn’t even notice that.

Right next to your phone, you feel your gun. You've never used it in this kind of situation, and your fingers hesitate, hovering above the grip for a second before you decide against it. You'll still have it, should you need it, but it just feels so small and useless out here in the open, with shots and shouts ringing behind you, that you don’t want to give yourself some false comfort by holding on to it.

Your phone, on the other hand, is your life line in any situation, this one included, because on the screen, you see displayed four names and telephone numbers.

Someone is getting a raise this month.

Jungkook frowns, nose scrunching, when you type a reply, and even more when you press the dial button and bring the phone to your ear.

“There’s more important—”

“Who is this?” a voice groans on the other side. Even if it's hard to tell with all the noise, you think you're hearing the shots echoed through the speaker.

“Mr. Lee,” you say, “I recommend you stop shooting at us.”

There’s a silence, during which you glance at Jungkook, who now looks at least somewhat impressed.

“That’s— Wha— How d’you— How d’you know—”

As the man tries to find his words — and you don't doubt that he must be feeling sheer terror at the idea that you even know his name — you see Jungkook lifting up his head suddenly, one of his long ears, which slipped out of the bandana in the turmoil, twitching. You try to catch a glance of what’s happening, but you see nothing. He’s either smelling or hearing something you can’t, but it makes him nod decisively before leaning towards you.

“Keep him talking, and don't move from here,” he whispers in your ear, breath warm against your skin. You tell yourself that everything is just heightened in that moment, that every sensations are stronger, and that that is the only reason why your skin tingles where his hair brushes against it. Even then, you're thankful he leaves immediately after, quietly getting around the car, so he doesn't see the slow way you swallow after that, or the slow breath you let out.

It almost pained you, to have him so close to you, and even if you don't have time to think about it, even you are starting to realize what is happening within yourself.

“Mr. Lee,” you keep going nonetheless, compartmentalizing like it’s second nature — because it is —, pulling up the additional informations you’ve just been sent, “please think about what your sister would think about what you're doing right now.”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“She’s a school teacher,” you continue. “She sounds like a good person. So does Mr. Kang’s wife— a nurse, isn’t she?”

You think you should feel disgusted with yourself, right about now, but there’s only place for cold determination within you. You know that you would never go after anyone for their familial relationships, and that is enough for you. They don’t seem to know. Probably would, if they’d done their research, it’s something that’s been whispered about for quite some time in the Organization, but they’ve either been sent without any information, or foolishly saw this opportunity as a way to climb up in the ranks.

Either way, what a waste.

“And Mr. Min has two young children, isn't that sweet.”

A curse, and then he shouts a name.

“I’ll make you eat your fucking heart if you hurt them, you fucking bitch,” another voice yells in the phone, and you just stare into the dark, cold waters that stretch in front of you. None of these men will be getting back to their family alive. Even if they manage to kill you, you doubt they'll escape this place. “You’re just scared,” he adds, and you blink. You should be scared, he’s right, but you mostly feel empty. “You didn't even have to be in there. Could have just picked the right fucking side instead of being a hybrid’s whore. I swear to God, if you touch my kids, we’ll—”

“Mr. Min, I already have men on their way to your house,” you interrupt him. “The sooner you surrender, the sooner I can call off my orders.”

On the other side, a number of muffled ‘fuck’, and then a brief exchange between the group. You don't think the others will back up, and it's only a matter of time before they get desperate, but for now you get a second to try to see what’s happening — and, ideally, spot your boss.

It’s when you do that you see Suga, crouched on top of the car. Based on the way the men are talking amongst themselves, they have no clue he's here.

“I’ll get your head on a fucking spi—”

Things don’t last very long once Suga springs into action. The first kill is quick and messy, knife slicing into one of the men's throat, twice, back and forth. Blood splatters all over the floor and you wince in disgust. By the time he falls to his knees, Suga's already moved on to the next one. He gets a little more time to protect himself, but the killer’s movements are too fast. His hands wrap around his neck and he squeezes with inhuman strength.

As he struggles, the other two seem to regain their focus and start to take aim at him.

It only lasts a second before Jungkook is on them. He’s slower than Suga, but there’s also more power in his movements. His fist catches the first man’s jaw as the other hand rips the machine gun — where the fuck did they get that from — out of his hands. By the time the fourth man has spun around, he’s balancing on one leg, his foot coming up to kicking him in the chest and sending him reeling for several steps.

The gun spins in his hands, and then he's using the grip to hit the man he punched, still standing. It only takes three strikes before he falls, you think, but Jungkook lands a few more before he hits the ground. When he turns around, there’s no amusement on his face, unlike what you were used to see when he was at the Circle. There's just determination and anger, maybe, if you’re reading him correctly — an ability you’ve been doubting lately.

The only man left doesn’t stand a chance, but even then, Jungkook doesn’t drag the fight on any longer than he needs to. There are, you suspect, some unnecessary punches, done more to inflict pain than anything else — these ones get the man in the stomach, have him keeling over and spitting out blood — but really, it’s all over in a few minutes.

The guy Yoongi had been strangling is also down for the count.

Jungkook and him are the only ones left standing.

There’s a brief exchange of glances between them, then a nod, and Jungkook gestures at the men on your side, who are slowly coming out of the second car. You suspect that this was a baptism of fire for them, used to blades and fists, but much less so to the kind of guns these guys had been operating; one of them remains in the car, likely wounded and you see Suga walking over to them.

You get on your feet as well. Your brain seems to have a hard time registering the fact that the threat is gone, your muscles feel too tight to move. As you take your first step, you feel pain shooting up your leg.

Shit. You hadn’t noticed you’d hurt your ankle.

But that doesn't stop you from making your way over to the group. You’ll have it checked out later, you don’t think you’ll have a choice, but for now you’d rather people not know about it.

“Why did it take you so long to intervene?” Jungkook’s snarling by the time you arrive.

“We had to turn around,” one of the men, a tall, lean cat-hybrid replies. “They knew which car you were in.”

“And how the fuck would they—”

“We have moles on their side,” you offer as you come to stand next to him, “it’s no wonder they would too.” You don’t add that, while it could have been someone at HQ, it could just as easily be one of these men. If it is the case, you don't want the mole to do something desperate right now.

Jungkook’s eyes scan you briefly. Aside from your ankle, you think you only have minor injuries. He gives a sigh of relief, or maybe he’s just breathless from the fight.

“For now,” you continue, “we need to get out of here. The police will want to interrogate us, I’ll let you know what story we’ll be going for later, but we can't be caught—”

“Watch out!”

From the way the men rush out of the way, you have to assume the threat comes behind you, but your reflexes aren’t anywhere near as fast as the hybrid’s, and as you turn your head, catching sight of the car, the thought occurs to you, clear as day, as while it rushes towards you.

This is how it ends.

Honestly, you’d feared worst.

Much to your surprise, your body forces you to lunge forward, survival instinct kicking in where you thought you had none left. Your bad ankle just does not have the strength you need to make it completely out of the way, though, and you make yourself no illusions. At least, though, you go out trying to survive.

You hadn’t thought you would.

And then arms close around you and you’re pulled forward, barely hearing the scream of effort it takes over the roaring of the engine.

You blink at the car that goes past you, see it crashing one last time in the low concrete wall that runs alongside the river. The driver collapses on the wheel, and then Yoongi’s running past you, no doubt ensuring that he doesn’t move again. He makes it quick.

In your world, that is no small mercy.

But you don't get to think about that, not when the heat coming from Jungkook’s body is spreading through yours and when his hands grab your shoulders tightly as wide, panicked eyes search yours.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

You can’t do anything but nod.

He’s gripping you tightly, fingers digging into your skin, and he looks— he looks terrified. You don't know what to do with that.

So you lower your gaze, clear your throat. One of you has to keep their head on their shoulders.

“I’m alright.”

Still no ‘Mr. Jeon’.

“We need to leave this place.”

As you say that, you raise an arm, brush your fingers over the back of his hand. He jumps at the feeling, glances down at you even as you let your arm fall back down again, then back to your face. His gaze drops to your lips — you think — and then he takes a step back.

“Yeah. You're right, I just— fuck. I thought he was out for the count. I’m sorry.”

“You've saved my life twice today,” you say — softly, you think, but it’s hard to tell. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Still, I—”

“Jungkook. Thank you.”

He looks conflicted, but then he sighs and gestures for you to get in the car.

In the crowded vehicle, you allow yourself a second to close your eyes. His arm, tense as bowstring, is brushing against you, and for a second, there’s just static in your brain, just exhaustion and his warmth that’s transferring to you.

Soon, of course, you go back to the planning, to the things you’ll need to change to ensure this doesn’t happen again, to everything that is to come and everything that needs to be done, the never ending list unfolding neatly in your mind.

But there is a second of quiet first. A second where, for once, you don’t try to fight the complicated feelings that have been going through you lately and where you almost — almost, but not quite — let yourself melt against the man who’s saved your life twice today.

So there it is. Uh. This might be the fastest chapter I've written as well as the longest. I did use a different writing method for this one so I don't know how this worked out. Because I wrote it on the heels of the last one, I was still in 'OC's voice', so it wasn't as hard to get back into it. I also wrote a lot more regularly. So... yeah, I would love it if you'd let me now how you feel about this, and hopefully getting another chapter in less than a month isn't too much of a shock for you lol. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #hybrid jungkook #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #candywrites #if i can never give you peace #iicngyp

433 notes · View notes

candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years ago

Text

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

Until he comes back.

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

First · Previous · Next

(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!

319 notes · View notes