#mafia agust d

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

masterlist

part 18

Namjoon’s showing up at the restaurant had not been a part of Margot’s plan, and Yoongi’s resulting reaction had been a less than ideal outcome to their outing.

The ride back to the penthouse was tense and silent, Yoongi’s hand’s clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckled turned white. The entire interaction at the restaurant had left him with a vein in his forehead throbbing so badly that Margot was half afraid that it was about to burst. The other worry that kept playing through her head was that he was going to turn the car around and punch Namjoon in the face.

Despite the dark cloud that remained around him the entire journey back to the penthouse, Yoongi didn’t say a word the entire time. The entirety of his focus remained on the road. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing Margot had yet to see. She hoped for everyone involved that it wouldn’t blow up in their faces, but from what she knew of Yoongi, if he was still anything like the Yoongi that she had known, it didn’t bode well for any of them that he was stewing in his anger.

Yoongi’s anger had always run cold. He didn’t react rashly. If he was going to retaliate for the incident today, it would be well thought out, and he would strike where it hurt. It was the disadvantage to Yoongi’s particular brand of anger. At least when someone lashed out in the moment, it was over without any time for them to plan out something worse, but Yoongi would think through the cause of his anger and the target of it and find exactly what would hurt most when he retaliated.

Margot hoped that he wouldn’t strike back, but she also knew he was unlikely to forget what had happened.

She had started coming up with contingency plans the moment he’d shoved her into the car. She wasn’t confident that any of them would work, but she at least had contingency plans if she needed them which she had the very distinct feeling that she would. Placating had worked to get him out of the restaurant without any punches being thrown, and she was hoping that it would work again once they made it back to the penthouse. If there was anything that Margot had experience in, it was the art of placating people.

Growing up, her own parents had been constantly at odds with one another, and it had been Margot and her sister’s jobs to help smooth things over. It hadn’t worked in the long term, their parents deciding to split up when Margot was in high school, but she couldn’t help but think that that had been for the best. The pair had had a penchant to ruin anything they touched including their own lives and their children’s, but the skill of smoothing over turbulent emotions which was going to server her very well if she planned on surviving Yoongi and his delusions.

Yoongi continued in his seething silence as they arrived back at their building. Silently, he dragged her out of the car and to the elevator which had turned out to be a horribly awkward ride as Yoongi remained silent the entire time, quietly fuming and adding onto Margot’s anxiety.

The silence was slowly killing her, but she was too afraid of what would follow once it was broken. She didn’t know what Yoongi was thinking, but her own wild imagination had come to the conclusion that it was something horrible. Yoongi’s tight grip on her hand hadn’t helped to ease her anxiety either. His grip was almost bruising in its intensity as though he was afraid that she would slip away from him the moment that he let go. To his credit, that particular fear wasn’t all that delusional. If Margot had had her way, she would have run for the hills already.

As they entered the penthouse, Yoongi slammed the door behind him, one of the few outward signs of his current dark mood, and released Margot’s wrist as he stalked into the kitchen. Here in his own space Margot noted that he looked less like the predator and more like a puffed up kitten.

Slowly, Margot followed him into the kitchen tentatively calling out to him with the modicum of confidence that had returned to her.

All thoughts of Yoongi looking like an angry kitten quickly fled as he turned his gaze towards her. He hadn’t looked at her since dragging her out of the restaurant, and she was frozen in place by what she saw in them. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen such anger in Yoongi’s eyes, not even when he had realized that she was trying to flee from him. Yes, he had been angry then, but something about this was different. This held something darker and more territorial, and it was narrowed in on her.

Before she could react, Yoongi was striding back across the kitchen towards her, reaching her in only seconds. His hands came up to frame her face, eyes searching for something there though she didn’t know what.

They stood there for what felt like ages, Yoongi’s gaze focused in on Margot and Margot staring back in wide eyed apprehension until finally Yoongi spoke.

“I didn’t like seeing his hands on you.”

“Namjoon’s hands?” She asked, speaking slowly and carefully as though to a feral animal. She wasn’t entirely sure that Yoongi wasn’t one in this situation.

“Don’t.” Yoongi hissed, thumb brushing across her cheek bone in a motion far gentler than his tone. “Don’t say his name.”

“He’s just a friend.” She kept her tone even and placating still uneasy by Yoongi and his actions.

“He wants to take you away from me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mari-ah. I know what he wants to do. I saw the way he tried to play hero.” Yoongi’s hands fell away from her, one of them running through his hair in a hurried motion that left the strands falling in all directions.

“He’s a cop.” Margot pointed out. “Playing hero is literally part of the job.”

“I saw the way he looked at you.”

She scoffed at that. As nice as Namjoon was and as much as Tae-il might like for her to date a young man just like him if not Namjoon himself, nothing had happened between them apart from the fake date he’d taken her on to get her out of talking to Yoongi that one evening.

“And how does he look at me?” She asked, crossing her arms under her chest and waiting for Yoongi to answer.

He scowled, crossing his own arms over his chest. “You know how he looks at you.”

“He’s a friend, nothing more.”

Yoongi chuckled, a twisted little smile on his lips though the expression had no joy in it, only bitterness. “He’s a man, Mari-ah, and you are a beautiful woman.”

“You’re jealous.”

He bristled at that, his whole body tightening up at the accusation. “I have nothing to be jealous over. You’re my woman, and he can’t have you.”

“I’m not your woman or anyone else’s for that matter.” she pointed out. “You kidnapped me. That doesn’t make me your woman. Technically speaking it makes me your prisoner.”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed, his jaw clenched. “You’re mine, jagiya. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you again.”

She sighed deeply, tucking a stay strand behind her ear. “That’s not how that works, Yoongi. You don’t get to unilaterally decide we’re in a relationship just because you want us to be in one.”

Yoongi paused, looking at her strangely as though her words were too ridiculous to comprehend. “Jagiya, this is forever. What we have will be forever.”

“We don’t have anything.”

He sighed deeply. This was an argument he had a nagging feeling they would continue to have until Margot gave up her delusions of leaving.

“What we have is everything, jagi. I love you, and you love me.”

She spluttered out a noise that was more of a squack than anything else at that. “I certainly do not!”

“Jagi…” The warning was clear in his tone, but Margot proceeded on, all previous caution thrown to the wind in favor of her current indignation.

“You can’t just decide that I love you even if you have lost your damn mind! You are a fully grown man not some delulu twelve year old! You have to realize how crazy you sound!”

“Mari-ah.” he cautioned again not liking where this was going at all.

“I would literally rather step on glass again than be here with you!”

Yoongi’s gaze hardened, his jaw set as he fought to reign in his own growing temper. “That’s enough, Mari-ah.”

“I would be lucky if Namjoon wanted to take me away from you! At least he’s not fucking delusional!”

Yoongi cut her off, one hand reaching out lightning quick pulling her in by the back of her neck as he ducked down to press his lips to hers.

A small “eep” escaped Margot at the unexpectedness of the action, and she stood there frozen as Yoongi’s lips moved fervently against her own. It was passionate and frenetic. It was both jealous and tender, conveying all of the emotion that Yoongi didn’t have the words to say in that moment.

Yoongi had certainly been touchy before since coming back into her life, but he had never crossed the line towards intimacy like this. She knew his intentions. He’d made them more than clear especially after kidnapping her from her home, but he had not acted on any of his delusions in such an intimate way until now, and Margot didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

It wasn’t as though she’d never been kissed before. She had, but she’d never been kissed by Yoongi, and that had been something of a dream of hers back in her college days. Her crush on Yoongi had been a dream that she had let slip away as the years went by and had been completely crushed as soon as he’d walked back into her life as a delusional criminal. As much as her mind knew that this was wrong that it wasn’t what she wanted, another part of her that was still that girl from college was swooning.

No one had ever kissed her like this before. No one had ever kissed her with such passions, such need. He held her as though she was something precious, as though she was going to slip away if he moved even an inch away, and the part of her that was a romantic swooned a little more at that, but as Yoongi pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath, the part of her that knew who and what he was took over.

She brought her hands up to grip his wrists, gently beginning to pull his hands away from her and was mortified to realize her hands were shaking as she did.

“Enough, Mari-ah.” He rasped, staring deeply into her eyes as he did. She opened her mouth to say something, but Yoongi shook his head, stopping her before she could get a word out. “I can take a lot, Mari, but I can’t listen to you say you hate me. I can’t listen to you say how you would prefer another man. Please, Mari-ah.”

She nodded dumbly, still a little dazed from the suddenness of his actions and a little taken aback by the vulnerability in his eyes. In that daze, it suddenly hit Margot that he was entirely serious. He couldn’t stand to hear her talk about Namjoon as an option. He couldn’t stand to hear her say she hated him. He might have been delusional about her feelings, but his own were one hundred percent genuine. He actually had feelings for her.

She had thought that every declaration of love, every affectionate gesture had been a product of his delusions. She had assumed, or rather hoped, that with time he would snap out of his delusions. He would realize that he didn’t know her any more, that he certainly didn’t know her well enough to be in love with her, but that wasn’t the case.

Staring into his eyes in that moment with him staring back into hers, Margot had the horrible sinking realization that Min Yoongi was deeply, madly in love with her.

“Fuck.”

[sxgakookie]

Summary: Your husband has found your behavior to be annoying at best, and he knows exactly how to make sure you’re back in line. Genre: Smut (dom! and mafia!Yoongi x reader) Rating/Warning: Adults Only (Strong language, explicit sexual content including dom-sub roles, anal sex, sex toys, oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex, light choking, spanking, praise kink, daddy kink, degradation kink, female and male orgasm, brief aftercare.) Word Count: ~ 2.5k

When Yoongi walked into the bedroom, he was happy to see that you obeyed him for the first time that day. You, his beautiful wife, had acted like a brat since that morning. Whiny, demanding, spoiled, calling his office and interrupting meetings. He knew he spoiled you, and in all honesty, he knew he’d continue to do so. Being the wealthiest crime leader in Korea allowed him to. A closet of designer clothes, the best vacations and the most expensive restaurants for your date nights together. But when you acted like a brat, he knew he needed to discipline you properly and remind you of your place. He was your husband, and he demanded respect. 

You were bent over in the center of the bed, with your head resting down in the soft pillows. Your eyes were covered with a silk black blindfold, preventing you from seeing anything. You wore only black lace panties, with your breasts exposed. The panties themselves were a revealing pair of thongs, presenting your body for your husband to use as he liked. You waited patiently, as Yoongi rolled up the white sleeves of his button-up dress shirt. 

“What a fucking slut.” He murmured, walking over with the tap of his shiny black loafers hitting the floor. He caressed the soft skin of your bottom, before grabbing a handful to grope you properly. “You’ve been a real fucking brat today, honey. Did you know that?” 

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled. 

“Louder.” He demanded, earning you a harsh smack on your ass. 

“Yes, sir!” You repeated louder, feeling your skin grow hotter after the hit. 

“That’s better.” Yoongi said, walking away to go to the special drawer of your shared dresser. Your ‘toy box’, he often referred to it. “Speak up when I ask you a question. When you’re bratty, you know I don’t have a choice but to discipline you. What are the rules of your punishment, honey?” 

“Red light means stop. Yellow means we need to take a break. Green means go ahead.” You repeated your previous lessons. 

“Very good.” Yoongi said, kneeling on the bed behind you. “So it seems like you can listen when you want to.” 

Your breathing picked up in anticipation with your husband being so close to you. You hadn’t had disciplinary sex in quite some time, and you knew your husband enjoyed bringing you to your breaking point. Yoongi loved watching you sink deeper into your submissive headspace, as he coaxed all the attitude out of you, leaving you fucked out and compliant. 

“You’ll receive 20 spankings.” Yoongi’s tone sounded nonchalant, teetering on boredom. “You’ll thank me after each one, understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Very good.” He nodded, starting off with another soft caress of your skin, before landing down a hard, loud SMACK onto your skin. 

“Thank you, sir.” You cried, feeling your skin sting. 

Another. “Thank you, sir.” Another. “Thank you, sir.” Another. “THANK YOU, SIR.” You sobbed, feeling the hot sting of your skin. 

“Color?” He paused, looking at the bright red marks your ass. 

“Green, sir.” You responded, gripping the sheets. 

“That’s my good girl.” He hummed, continuing his assault on the soft skin of your ass. 

Yoongi grew hard in his slacks, watching as you took each hit. He loved disciplining you, and loved how quickly your body reacted to it. You melted so easily, complying with thanking him, as he could see the wetness growing between your legs. You loved it just as much as he did.

“One more.” He said, placing one more hard hit onto your ass. 

“Thank you, daddy.” You whimpered. 

“You did very well.” Yoongi praised. Your skin was red, glowing with his punishment. “I’m going to remove your panties now.” 

You felt the fabric slide down your thighs, and stopped right where your knees were. Not taken off any more, just enough to allow your husband access to what he needed, and to expose your body to his eyes. 

Then, you felt his fingers and the cold metal of his wedding ring caressing the wetness of your opening. You let out a quiet “ah!” in surprise. 

“Settle down.” Yoongi’s deep voice said. “Be good, hold still, and take what I give you.” 

A finger, at a painfully slow speed, breeched your entrance. Your lips parted in response, but no noise came out. Only deep breaths, feeling him fuck his finger in and out of you. Rough, calloused skin of his hand pleasured you, creating more sensations as he added more digits. 

“Daddy…” You moaned. 

“Daddy?” Yoongi’s smirk was practically audible. “That’s what I like to hear. Is my sweet girl coming back to me?” 

“Daddy, I wanna cum.” You said, ignoring his question. 

“Tsk.” Yoongi responded. “Even after your spankings, you’re still being a brat.” 

He pulled his fingers from your opening, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. You felt so empty without him inside of you. Moments went by without any contact, driving you crazy, until finally, you heard the pop of a bottle cap opening. 

“Brats don’t get their pretty little pussy’s played with.” Yoongi said, shaking his head as though you could see him. “That's for good girls. But you haven’t been a good girl, have you, angel?” 

Just then, something wet and cold on the soft skin of your ass. Metal. Round. A plug. Yoongi found your anal plug in your “toy box”, and slowly began working it into your hole with the help of wet lube. 

“Relax, baby.” Yoongi encouraged, giving your cheeks soft kisses as he slid the the plug in a little deeper. “Open your ass for me…. Good girl. Breathe in, now back out. That's my good girl. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

“Good.” He gave your skin a playful nibble, before sliding the plug in completely. You gasped and your toes curled at the stretch. You kept your ass spread for him, knowing it’s better to do so until he says otherwise. “It’s been a while since I’ve chosen to give your ass a good fucking, hasn’t it, honey?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“When you act like a brat, you get fucked like a brat.” Yoongi explained, pushing and pulling on the plug just enough to drive you mad. “You get fucked like a slut. Bent over for me with your legs and ass spread open, giving me your sweet little holes to stick toys in. What a dirty, slutty girl. Already dripping down your legs."

Yoongi’s voice was heavy with arousal, and before he could stop himself, he licked up the soft skin of your thighs. You shuddered at the feeling of his wet tongue, gathering your wetness to taste, and working his way to the source, pressing a soft lick to your pussy. 

“Daddy…” You whimpered. 

Yoongi had reached into his own pants, palming himself to the erotic scene before him. You tasted delicious, and he lapped at your pussy like it was his favorite drink. He sucked, kissed, licked and nibbled different areas of your sex as he saw fit, creating a collage of pleasure on your skin, and you responded accordingly. You gripped the sheets, you curled your toes, you deepened your breathing. Yoongi listened to every last whimper, whine, gasp and moan, drinking it in alongside the sweetness of your pussy. 

“Daddy… Gonna cum for you…” You whimpered, earning a pressured lick to your clit. “Daddy… Fuck…Please don't stop, love your fucking tongue so much…” 

Yoongi knew you were close to the edge by your babbling. He continued his sweet flicks onto your sensitive clit, bringing you closer and closer to a high. But right at your legs began to shake, and your sweet noises became louder… he stopped. An almost evil smirk appeared on his face.

“No!” You cried, feeling so, incredibly frustrated by your stolen orgasm. “Daddy, please! Please, I need to cum.” 

“Brats don’t cum whenever they want to.” Yoongi’s deep voice said as he began fully undressing himself. He wrapped his own hand around his remarkably hard erection, and slowly pumped himself to relieve some of his own ache. “You’re using your polite words now, baby. That’s good. What do sweet girls say when Daddy gives their pussy’s kisses?” 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You said, voice in a clear pout. 

There she is. Yoongi thought.

Yoongi slowly, gently, began to remove the plug from your ass, making you want to cry at yet another place no longer feeling full. 

“Shhhh, I know, baby.” Yoongi reassured you, speaking gently as he knew your bratty behavior was slipping away, making way for your submissive side. “I'll give you what you need, baby. Promise.” 

When you were no longer filled at all, Yoongi took his hard cock that was desperately throbbing, and lined up his red, frustrated tip with your opening, letting it rest on your cheek. 

“Gonna fuck your ass tonight, baby.” He whispered, staring at the way you waited so patiently for him. “Breathe for me, ok?” 

You did so, feeling his cock sink into you. It made you feel so full. Your husband’s length was large and thick, with textured veins that you could feel, no matter where he decided to breech you. As he pushed further, he let out a deep fuck from under his breath. The lube from the plug helped him slide in well, and he could feel every inch of you as he penetrated further. 

“Gonna fuck the brat out of you.” Yoongi growled, his length throbbing against your walls. “Gonna make sure you remember who the fuck you’re talking to.”

“Daddy, please.” You whined, as he began pushing himself in and out of your ass. You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but the feeling of his dick properly taking your ass for the first time in so long was almost overwhelming. 

“Take my cock, baby. Settle down and fucking take it.” He groaned, throwing his head back and gripping your hips tightly to keep your body in place. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed across the large mansion bedroom. “Whose pretty fucking hole is this, baby? Hm?” 

“Your hole, Daddy.” 

“Such a good girl. What belongs in this hole?” 

“Your cock.” You squeaked out. 

“That’s right, baby. So fucking smart.” He growled. “But that’s all you need to know, isn’t it baby? I pay for your clothes and shoes, pay the rent and bills, and get rid of anyone who fucking looks at you. All you need to worry about baby, is giving me a pretty little hole to fuck and speaking sweetly.” 

“Daddy, thank you…” You cried, feeling the friction strongly now with every push and pull of his hips. 

“I can tell I’m fucking the brat out of you.” Yoongi chuckled, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna listen, aren’t you baby? Gonna be my good girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“All it took was your husband’s cock up your ass to get you to act right.” He tsked, placing another smack to your cheek, causing you to squeal. Yoongi moved your body so that you laid flat on your tummy, allowing him to press deeply into you as he laid on top. His arm snuck between your hips and the mattress, letting his fingers find your clit to play with. Yoongi’s lips were to your ear, so that he could whisper things more closely, and you could feel the warmth of his breath. 

“Ah!” You cried, feeling the soft pressure on your clit, combined with the rough pounding from behind. It made your head spin, the differences of how Yoongi could touch you. 

“Who makes you feel like that, baby?” He whispered in your ear. “Hm? Who makes your pussy that wet?” 

“You, Daddy.” 

“And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” His deep voice growled. “I love to spoil you when you’re listening to me, baby girl. That means letting you make a mess of the bed sheets.” 

He could feel you dripping onto the expensive cotton sheets, driving him crazy. He could hear your deep breaths and whimpers, and feel how close you were to an orgasm. 

“I wanna see you cum.” He finally said, wrapping a hand around your throat gently, just enough to give himself more control. “I know you need to, angel. Let go, and show me what a dirty, messy girl you are.” 

“Ah! FUCK... Love your fucking cock... SHIT...” You shrieked, gripping the sheets. You soaked the bed, crying as you came intensely. Yoongi tenderly peppered kisses to your cheeks, and slowed the harsh pounding to more delicately work you through your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” Yoongi whispered into your ear, pressing more kisses to your face. 

“Thank you for letting me cum, Daddy.” You whispered, a few tears still falling. 

“There’s my girl.” He whispered. “So polite, and so goddamn pretty, cumming so well for me. We’re gonna finish your discipline, ok? But first, give me a kiss.” 

You turned your head so Yoongi could connect your lips to his. As he did, he untied your blindfold, and threw it to the side. His eyes met yours for the first time that session, and as he pulled away, he wiped a tear from your eyes. 

“You’ve been so good tonight.” Yoongi praised, his hips beginning to pick up. “Look at me while I fuck you. Keep your eyes here, I’m gonna cum in your perfect little hole.” 

“Yoongi…” You whimpered, using your husband’s name for the first time that night. 

“Look at me, honey.” He reminded you, keeping his hand on your neck, squeezing gently. “Good girl… Let me see how pretty you look while I cum…” 

With only a few more pushes and pulls of his hips, and a soft kiss to your lips, Yoongi groaned as he emptied himself into you. You could feel his length twitch as he finally released, sighing into the kiss. 

“I love you, honey.” He whispered, deepening the kiss. 

“Love you, too.” You responded. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” He whispered, brushed a lock of hair from your sweaty face. “Was I too rough with you, honey? Did I really hurt you? Did I say something wrong?” 

You shook your head no, planting a sweet, quick kiss to his lips. 

“I like it. All of it.” You reassure him. Being married to Yoongi meant being used to his dominant side, both in and out of the bedroom. It was a turn on for you, especially when he switches afterwards to treat you so delicately. It was something only you knew about, as you were the only one who knew him so intimately to see it. 

Yoongi, as exhausted as he was, still made sure to bring you to the bathtub and let you soak your sore muscles away while he changed the sheets, giving you both a fresh place to sleep. When you were finished cleaning up, he gave you a shirt from his side of the closet to put on, large enough on your body to act as a nightgown with nothing underneath. 

You settled in to bed, and fell asleep as he took a shower. Yoongi slipped on a clean pair of boxers, and crawled into bed with you, pulling your sleeping figure into his arms. 

“Love you so much angel.” He whispered, before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

[melancholy-of-nadia]

the a(myg)dala (explicit) | myg

title: the a(myg)dala (explicit) - series pairing: mafia leader/detective! agust d x right handman! f. reader ; gang leader! yoongi x right handman! f. reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , thriller , smut ; haegeum au , my agustdverse summary: You wake up in a lavish bedroom with no recollection of memories of who you are. The only person who holds the key to this mystery is the owner of the house, Agust D, a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective. He claims you’re his right hand (wo)man and that he needs to protect you from someone who’s after you, as well as a treasure he’s searching for. With danger lurking and your memories a blank slate, can you trust Agust D to uncover the truth, or is there more to his story than meets the eye? note: i have been planning this in my head (like the delusional girly i am) since daechwita came out in 2020, but it wasn't until 2023 with the haegeum mv that it truly solidified me wanting to put together my thoughts to create this. i started out with Distraction and Infatuation as test one shots to gauge at the interest, and now it has lead me to create the first actual chapter of this series. this series is dedicated to my bestie the biggest yoongi smut luvr i know @daegudrama and to my favorite yoongi fic writers @jcoles and @theharrowing. also this is kinda unedited i apologize for any mistakes sndksfjladsafbjka i will edit later on. warnings: the following series is intended for a mature audience and may contain graphic language, graphic violence, weapons (guns/katana swords/chopsticks), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, gambling, murder, gang activity, memory loss/amnesia, sassy and on guard reader, unreliable characters, haegeum!agust d, haegeum!yoongi, tale of two MYGs technically, LMAO, TEAM SUGA! appearances as mafia men, assassins, slow burn, fight sequences, power imbalance, future smut scenes that may contain some bdsm elements, multiverse implications, tattoos, etc. drop date: october 29th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 5.5k crossposted on ao3 – –

The world slowly comes into focus, the haze of unconsciousness lifting like a dissipating fog. You blink, your eyelids heavy as if weighed down by lead. The room around you is unfamiliar, dimly lit by a lamp on a nearby table. The scent of damp wood and something herbal lingers in the air. You try to move, but a sharp, throbbing pain in your head forces you to stay still.

Panic surges through you. Where are you? Why can’t you remember anything?

You glance around, the room’s details gradually becoming clearer. It is small and sparsely furnished, with wooden walls and a single window covered by a thick, faded curtain. But the strangest part is that you can't recall how you got here or what happened before. Your mind is blank, a void where your memories should be.

Well, almost blank.

Two things are certain in your mind: your name—whatever comfort that brings—and the image of a man, his face marked by a prominent scar, entering this very room. Yet, in the memory, the man looks different—his features more vivid, his clothing distinct. He is wearing a green jacket. You cling to that detail as if it were a lifeline in the sea of confusion.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the creaking of the wooden floor. You turn your head—slowly, cautiously—and see him. The man from your memory stands at the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and relief.

“You’re up? You’ve been asleep for a couple of days now.”

His voice is deep, carrying a warmth that contrasts with the sternness of his appearance. The scar on his face is unmistakable, and yet something about him seems off, like a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.

“Who are—” you start to ask, but the words catch in your throat as a sudden, stabbing pain shoots through your temples. You wince, pressing a hand to your forehead as you try to steady your breathing.

The man’s eyes narrow, his concern deepening. “Easy, doll, don’t strain yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”

Doll?

His tone is soothing, but it only heightens your unease. Why does he look so familiar? And why does the memory of him in that green jacket feel so significant?

“I... I can’t remember… why can’t I remember?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your fear and confusion. “I can’t remember anything, except your face. But you looked different... the green jacket...”

The man frowns, clearly troubled by your words. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if trying not to startle you.

“Listen,” he says gently, grasping your cheek. “You’ve been through something traumatic. It’s normal to feel disoriented. But you’re safe now, alright? We’ll figure this out together.”

His reassurance does little to ease the growing tension in your chest. As he speaks, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something he isn’t telling you—something important that lies just beyond your grasp.

But for now, with your head pounding and your body weak, all you can do is nod and hope that the answers will come soon.

His phone rings, the sound slicing through the uneasy quiet of the room. The man glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before pulling the phone from his pocket. He answers it without a word, his face hardening as he listens to the person on the other end. After a tense moment, he turns away, stepping out of the room.

The door creaks shut behind him.

You wait, the minutes stretching into what feels like an eternity. Ten minutes pass, then thirty, and still, there is no sign of his return. Your unease grows. Why hasn’t he come back yet? What was that phone call about?

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as your anxiety gnaws at you. You try to stay still, but the silence is suffocating. You need to get out of bed.

With some effort, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as your body protests the movement. Every muscle feels sore, as if you’ve been through something physically draining. Your feet touch the cool floor, and you slowly stand, swaying slightly as the room spins for a moment. Steadying yourself, you look around, eyes settling on the door.

You have to investigate. You need to understand what is happening.

Just as you take a step toward the door, it swings open with a soft creak. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as a new figure enters the room.

It is a woman, dressed sharply in a tailored black suit that contrasts her bright orange bob cut. She moves with an air of quiet confidence, her eyes locking onto yours with a steady, calm gaze. She seems close to your age, though something about her presence feels more mature, more composed.

“Hello,” she says, her voice smooth and professional. “My name is Adora. Apologies, as Mr. Agust had to step out unexpectedly, but he kept me up to speed with everything going on and told me to help care for you in the meantime.”

You blink, taking in her words, still processing the situation.

Mr. Agust? That’s his name?

Adora approaches the small table by the bed and sets down a neatly folded bundle of clothes. “I’ve brought you some clothes,” she adds, gesturing toward the bundle. “I imagine you’d want to change into something more comfortable.” She glances at you, wearing a white spaghetti-strapped nightgown. Yeah, you need to change out of this.

“Who… who is Mr. Agust?” you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse. The question has been burning in your mind ever since you woke up.

“Oh! The man who was just in here before me. Agust D,” she says happily. “He’s been looking after you since… well, since the incident.”

“The incident?” you repeat, confused. “What happened to me?”

Her smile fades, and a shadow of concern crosses her features. “I’m afraid that’s something only Mr. Agust can explain to you. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

She steps back, giving you space, and nods toward the clothes again. “Go ahead and take a shower before changing. I’ll wait outside if you need anything.”

And once again, you are left alone.

You grab the bundle of clothes, the fabric soft under your fingers as you unfold them. A white, long-sleeved collared shirt, a plaid skirt, and knee socks—an odd combination. Your brow furrows. Is this a school uniform? The thought seems out of place, considering everything else, but you push it aside. Right now, getting cleaned up and dressed feels like the first step toward reclaiming some control.

There is a small door beside your bed that leads to a bathroom. You open it and are greeted by a modest, clean space. The tiles are cool beneath your feet as you walk toward the shower. Your mind feels murky, still clouded by the lack of memory, and every detail around you seems both unfamiliar and strangely mundane at the same time.

As the hot water sprays down from the rain showerhead on the ceiling, you stand still for a moment, letting the warmth wash over you. It feels good, the steam wrapping around your sore muscles, loosening the tension that has built up since waking. Slowly, you begin to move, running your hands through your hair, watching the water swirl around your feet. You glance down at your body, your movements still careful, as though you fear something is waiting beneath the surface of your skin.

And then, you notice them—bruises. Small, fading marks dot your legs and arms, some yellowing at the edges, others still dark purple. Scrapes, too, healed over but unmistakable, mar your skin. You gently touch one on your forearm, wincing at the slight sting.

What happened to you? Frustration bubbles up inside you, making your throat tight. Every mark tells a story, a piece of the puzzle that should be obvious. But all you have are fragments, and none of them make sense.

You close your eyes, trying to summon any trace of a memory, something that could explain the bruises, the scrapes, the pain in your muscles. But there is nothing. Just emptiness.

Your hands shake slightly as you rinse off, the water turning from soothing to overwhelming. You finish quickly, the hot steam doing little to quell the storm of confusion and frustration rising within you.

Stepping out of the shower, you catch your reflection in the small, fogged-up mirror. You wipe it with your hand, staring at yourself, but the person staring back looks just as lost. No answers. No clarity.

With a sigh, you turn away and dry off, pulling on the strange outfit—first the crisp white shirt, then the plaid skirt and knee socks. The uniform fits well enough. Did you used to wear this before as well? You're left wondering too many things...

After slipping into a comfortable pair of slippers that you find beside the bed, you step out of the room for the first time. The hallway greets you with a soft, dim glow, revealing that evening has settled in. Shadows dance across the walls as you cautiously make your way forward.

Adora is sitting in a chair by your door, casually scrolling through her phone. At the sound of your footsteps, she looks up, her orange hair catching the light.

“Miss! All done? Do you need anything?” she asks, standing up swiftly with an attentive smile.

“Yeah, all done,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just... want you to show me around. I’m having a little trouble recalling some things.” You hesitate, wary of revealing too much. If people know about your memory loss, they could use it against you. But surely Adora had been informed by Agust D beforehand, right?

Adora’s eyes softened. “No worries, Mr. Agust did mention this detail to me.”

You’re correct.

“I’ll show you around and get you updated on the things I’m cleared to inform you on,” she adds.

Cleared? The word hangs in the air, making you wonder just how much is being kept from you. Still, you nod. “That’s fine.”

Adora leads the way down the hall, and your tour begins. The mansion is far larger than you anticipate. As you move from room to room, it becomes clear that this place is no ordinary home. The architecture is grand, with high ceilings and long corridors lined with dark wood paneling and expensive-looking art. Every room seems carefully designed, exuding luxury and power.

Your bedroom is relatively simple compared to the rest of the mansion—modest in size with muted tones, though the bed is large and soft. Across the hall, Adora points out Mr. Agust’s room. Unlike yours, it is locked, and she makes no attempt to open it. The door itself is dark wood, with intricate carvings around the frame. You can only imagine what is inside.

Next, she leads you to his office. It’s a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a grand desk made of polished mahogany, and a large window overlooking a courtyard. Papers and files are neatly stacked on the desk, though Adora makes no comment about what they contain. The room has an air of importance, almost like a command center.

The kitchen and dining area are expansive. The kitchen, spotless and gleaming, is staffed with a few workers who nod politely as you pass. The dining room is more formal, with a long table capable of seating at least a dozen people. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, casting warm light across the room.

The living room is one of the most impressive spaces—a large, open area with plush leather sofas, a marble fireplace, and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The windows here are larger, revealing a darkening city skyline.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in Bangkok. Thailand.”

Bangkok? You know what that place is, but it’s not a location you expected to be in.

As you explore, you begin to notice more people moving through the mansion—mostly bodyguards, dressed in black and stationed at various points. Most of them seem to be Korean, their stoic expressions and quiet movements blending into the background. It’s strange to see so many of them here. A mansion in Thailand, filled with Koreans—it doesn’t add up.

Your curiosity gnaws at you, but you know Adora isn’t the right person to ask. Whatever this is, it feels delicate. You’ll have to wait for Mr. Agust.

After what feels like hours of walking through corridors and staircases, Adora finally leads you to the dining room, gesturing for you to sit at the long table.

“I received word that Mr. Agust has just arrived,” she says, offering you a gentle smile. “You’ll meet him here. The staff has set out some tea and desserts for you while you wait.”

You look at the table. A silver tray holds a pot of tea and an assortment of small pastries. The aroma is sweet and comforting, but the anticipation makes your hands tremble slightly as you reach for a cup and serve yourself some tea.

“I’ll come back to join you two, along with some of the other guards,” Adora continues. “Mr. Agust will be here shortly.”

Interesting. You’re not sure what to make of this situation.

The dining room grows quieter as you sit alone with your thoughts, nibbling on a cookie to stave off the nerves.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoes through the hallway outside the dining room. You freeze, your pulse quickening as the door swings open. A group of men enters, all dressed in dark suits, their expressions stern and composed. They move in unison, fanning out to take seats around the table, but one man stands out from the rest.

Agust D

He strides in with a commanding presence, his sharp eyes surveying the room as he walks. There’s an air of authority around him that makes the space feel smaller. His dark hair is slicked back, his expression unreadable as he takes the seat at the head of the table.

The sleeves of his shirt are stained red… You don’t want to know if that’s blood, but it’s the only thing you can assume.

 Adora re-enters the room soon after, gliding in with her usual grace. She takes her seat across from you, her calm demeanor unwavering as she folds her hands in front of her. The tension in the room is thick, though it seems invisible to her.

Agust turns to you, his gaze piercing but calm. "I hope you’re feeling a bit more settled," he says, his voice low and even.

Yeah, sure, settled, you think, fighting the urge to laugh. Settled is the last thing you feel in this... “house.” 

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on you. “Yeah, I suppose,” you mutter, unsure how to respond. You reach for a cookie from the tray in front of you, more out of nervousness than actual hunger.

“I know this place might be overwhelming,” Agust continues, leaning back in his chair. “This is no ordinary home, as you’ve probably gathered by now.”

You swallow hard, the cookie crumbling slightly in your hands. No ordinary home is an understatement. The size, the guards, the secrecy—it all screams something far beyond the normal.

“To formally introduce myself, my name is Agust D. I’m the chief detective for the Asia-Pacific Police Force here in Bangkok. Comprised of officers from all Asia investigating international crime,” he says, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as if daring you to believe him.

You nod slowly, though something about it doesn’t sit right with you. “That’s... interesting,” you begin carefully, “but I don’t think that’s all. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Smart girl. You’re sharp, I’ll give you that.” Agust’s eyes gleam, and a chuckle rumbles from his chest. “No, that’s not all.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “I am a leader of this mafia family you’ve been seeing.”

Your hand freezes mid-bite, the cookie slipping from your fingers and falling onto the table. Your heart skips a beat. Mafia? Your mind races. Organized crime? How the hell did you get involved in something like this? Fear snakes up your spine as your hands begin to tremble slightly. You can feel your throat tightening, your body responding to the panic rising inside you.

Agust’s eyes soften just a fraction, as if sensing your fear. “Relax,” he says, his voice calm, almost reassuring. “I’m not going to hurt you... you’ve been working for me for quite some time before all of this, after all.”

“Working for you?” you echo, incredulous. None of this makes sense. You shake your head, unable to comprehend. “Me? I... I don’t think so. I mean why would I–”

Agust’s smile returns, and he leans back in his chair, his hand disappearing beneath the table. “It is you,” he says firmly, interrupting you. Without warning, he tosses something across the table.

You flinch, instinctively reaching out to catch it—your hand closing around the handle of a heavy object. What the— A sword? Its weight is oddly familiar in your grip. You stare at it, eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. The scabbard is intricately decorated with a blossom pattern that triggers something deep within you, something familiar.

You’ve seen this before... You’ve used this before.

Grainy and fragmented memories burst through your mind of a time when you’d used this. “Go ahead,” Agust says, his voice quiet but commanding. “Try it out.”

As if under a trance, your fingers move on their own, sliding the blade free from the scabbard. The polished metal gleams in the low light, its sharp edge whispering of battles fought and blood spilled. Before you realize what is happening, you have gotten onto the dining table, moving with fluid precision toward Agust that startles even you.

The bodyguards around the room react instantly, rising from their chairs and drawing guns, all pointed at you. But you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Your body moves on its own, and within a second, you are standing over Agust, the tip of your blade mere centimeters from his throat.

The room is dead silent. Agust doesn’t flinch. He merely raises a hand, a calm gesture to his men. The bodyguards look at him in hesitation, but slowly lower their weapons, keeping their eyes trained on you.

A chuckle escapes his lips. “Did that jog your memory?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as if he has been waiting for this moment.

You stare down at him, your chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I... only a little…?” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the sword in your hand feels so familiar, so right, but your mind is still a blur of confusion.

“So much bloodlust you’ve got hidden in those eyes. Are you going to cut me down this time, doll?” he asks, his voice teasing, yet there’s a glint of seriousness behind his eyes.

This time? What does he mean by “this time”? 

Despite the odd question, your heart skips a beat.

“W-What?!” you stammer, not understanding what he means. You pull the blade away, stepping back and lowering it to your side. Your hands are still shaking.

Agust smirks but says nothing more about it. Instead, he leans back, seemingly unfazed by how close he has come to death. “So, do you want some of the answers I can provide?”

Enough of this cryptic stuff.

You blink, still trying to process what just happened. “Are you actually going to answer me this time?” you ask, your voice sharper than intended.

Agust chuckles, clearly enjoying this more than you are. “That depends on what you want to know.”

“Hmm…” You hesitate for a moment while Agust signals his men to sit back down. They sit down, resume their positions, and the tension in the room seems to dissolve as if nothing happened just moments ago.

“Now tell me, doll,” Agust says, leaning forward, his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory intensity.

“First of all, who am I? Why do you keep calling me ‘Doll’?” you shoot back, your tone sharper than intended.

Agust lets out a deep breath, almost as if your question bores him. “You don’t have a name, as far as I know, so I call you doll. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

You give him an exasperated roll of your eyes, and he chuckles, as if he expects nothing less. “But besides me, everyone else calls you ‘Dove’—your code name.”

“Why am I here?” you press on, hoping for a more substantial answer.

Agust’s grin grows wider. “Great to see you moving on to this point,” he says, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “I’m protecting you. Your life is at stake, actually.”

You scoff. “Protecting me from…?”

“Someone.” His tone is vague, and your irritation flares at his refusal to offer more.

“Could you be any more vague?” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, daring him to give you something concrete. “Who is it?”

Agust’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. He clearly isn’t used to being questioned like this. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, one of the bodyguards at his side, a man with sharp features and an intense gaze, speaks up.

“I don’t think you should ask that right now,” he says firmly. “Just for the sake of your life.”

“Yijeong,” another bodyguard—a much older man with long black locks of hair—warns in a low voice.

Yijeong shrugs, his eyes unwavering. “I’m just looking out for her safety.” It doesn’t sound sincere, to be completely honest.

Agust gives a subtle nod, silencing the exchange with a single glance. Then he turns back to you, his gaze slightly softened. “Anyway, it’s exactly as I said,” he continues, his voice smooth, almost practiced. “As part of my daytime role, I’m a detective. And I’m also an underground mafia boss.”

You stiffen, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a shroud. He isn’t done. “The person after you wants something that you hold the key to—something that we both want.” His tone is steady, a faint glint of ambition in his eyes. “I met you a few years ago and decided to let you live here, by my side, in hopes of finding it.”

You take a shaky breath, your mind reeling as you try to process this. “And I’ve been here ever since… as your right-hand man?”

Agust leans forward, his voice low yet intense. “That’s right. You were essential to our operations. I need you back in action, though. There’s a lot at stake here. We need to find this thing as soon as possible and get rid of this other person trying to kill you.”

You try to wrap your head around the idea that you’ve been living a life entrenched in the shadows of the criminal underworld, working closely with Agust and his organization—yet you can’t remember any of it. The weight of it presses heavily on you, disbelief twisting in your gut.

“So, you’re telling me,” you begin, your voice slightly unsteady but determined, “that I’ve been involved in this… mafia life all this time and now, because of some freak accident that you won’t disclose, I have not a single memory of it?”

“Precisely.” His eyes are fixed on you, unwavering. “Once you start easing into things again, I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice gaining an edge, “but now, I need you to decide.”

The frustration bubbles up within you, and without fully realizing it, you blurt out the most pressing question in your mind. “And what if I refuse?”

“Refuse?”

“Yeah, I mean, this sounds great and all… but I’m not about this mafia life and fighting whatever gang rival you have. Maybe you are mistaken about me.”

“Then…” A dangerous gleam flashes in Agust’s eyes, and before you know it, his hand moves beneath the table. In one swift motion, he pulls out a sleek, polished handgun, the metallic click echoing as he cocks a bullet into the barrel. You flinch, eyes widening as he aims it in your direction, his expression dark but laced with amusement.

“I’ll just kill you right here.” He pauses, letting the threat hang in the air before he lets out a dry laugh.

Holy shit.

What the fuck is that switch-up!?

You knew this man is insane, from the moment he handed you a katana and nearly let you cut him down.

He chuckles softly, an unsettling sound that made your heart race even faster. “Honestly, this could work in my favor anyway.”

Agust tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he keeps the gun trained on you. "Then he will never get his hands on you. Ending it here sounds like a fine choice, doesn’t it?” His tone is almost casual, as if he were discussing nothing more consequential than the weather.

Your throat feels tight, but you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. His words hang in the air, blending with the heavy silence of the room. The other men seated at the table look on, stone-faced, while Adora remains calm, her eyes studying you carefully. You can tell she’s a little worried for you.

“You really think you can just kill me off?” you manage, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. “All this talk about me being your right hand, about me holding the key to something you need. If I’m that important, you can’t just get rid of me. Then you’ll never find what you’re looking for.”

Agust’s lips curl into a smirk. “Oh, doll, I like that fire,” he says, lowering the gun ever so slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. Great, just what you need—a compliment from your potential murderer. “You’re right. I can’t just let you go that easily.”

He leans back, his gaze unwavering as he places the gun on the table, almost within reach yet tantalizingly out of yours. “Let’s make something clear,” he continues, his voice softening yet holding that sharp edge. “You’re right. You’re valuable to me, too valuable to throw away—at least for now.”

For now? That’s comforting. What does ‘for now’ even mean in this context? You thought you were friends for a long time by now. Doesn’t sound like it from this.

The tension in the room lessens slightly, though your pulse is still racing. Agust’s words feel like a reprieve, but only just; you know there’s always another game behind his every sentence, and the stakes are dangerously high.

“Alright,” you reply, forcing a bit of calm into your voice. “Then tell me more. You say I’m the key to something… What is it exactly?”

Agust shrugs, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. “For now, let’s say it’s a treasure—one that’s extremely valuable to both me and… other interested parties.” He gives a small, almost lazy wave of his hand, brushing off the details as if they’re minor inconveniences.

“Other interested parties?” you press, sensing he’s holding back. “Like the person you’re supposedly protecting me from?”

Agust’s eyes narrow slightly, as though debating just how much he wants to divulge. He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, and gives a curt nod.

 “Yes, exactly like that person. But don’t worry about…them,” he says, his voice dipping lower, almost like a threat wrapped in reassurance. “With me around, you’re safe. They won’t touch you. Besides, doll, you led them on quite a chase right before the accident that happened to you….And now, they know better than to mess with one of the biggest mafias in Bangkok, especially one that has the police wrapped around its finger.”

The words settle over you like a heavy blanket, the weight of the implications sinking in. You haven’t just ended up here by chance, nor is this some benevolent offer of protection. The people after you aren’t merely rivals—they’re people who chased you, people you evaded in the past. And now, you’re under the protection of not just any organization, but a criminal empire with authority woven tightly into Bangkok’s very fabric.

“Wrapped around your finger?” you echo, incredulous but with a hint of fascination you can’t suppress.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair as though he’s merely recounting a successful business venture. “Yes, Bangkok’s finest wouldn’t dare cross me. I’m a chief detective, after all. It’s all very convenient, don’t you think?”

Right, because every girl dreams of being involved with a chief detective who moonlights as a mafia boss. What’s next? A romantic comedy?

You feel your pulse throb in your temples in disbelief. “So that’s why they won’t come after me here?”

“Exactly,” he replies, his tone almost smug. “To come after you here would be a death sentence for them. And they know it.”

You mean, you can’t argue with that logic. Guess you’ll have to stick around this madness for a while.

You slowly slide off the table, feeling the lingering tension in your limbs as you settle back into your seat at the far end of the dining table. Agust watches you with that familiar smirk, clearly pleased with the subtle shift in your demeanor. Once seated, you exhale, steadying yourself before meeting his gaze again.

“And if you continue to stay here,” he begins, his tone softer but laced with intent, “there’s a chance your memories will eventually come back, piece by piece. Trying to leave and figure it all out on your own would be… risky, to say the least.”

He’s giving you an out, it seems, yet he isn’t. The faintest hint of a choice dangles in front of you, a chance to regain who you are—or escape before you learn too much.

Agust’s gaze never wavers. “If you want answers—if you want to understand what’s locked away in that mind of yours—staying is your best option.”

Adora’s gaze is unwavering as well, as though silently urging you to take Agust’s offer. You glance at the others around the table, all of them still and watchful, a powerful, immovable force surrounding you.

“And if I don’t stay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, though his eyes hold the barest glint of amusement. “Then I suppose you’ll be putting all that fire to good use. Running from a lot of people… including me.” His smirk softens, but his words are as sharp as ever. “The most dangerous game. It’s your choice, doll. But remember, what’s waiting for you out there isn’t likely to be as welcoming as here.”

Nice way to put it. A warm welcome with care followed by a bullet?

You lean back, trying to process everything. It’s surreal—being told you’ve been living some double life as the right hand to a mafia boss, that you’ve led people on a chase through Bangkok, and now, because of all this, there are people actively out to get you. Just yesterday… well, whenever “yesterday” is, you have no memory of this life. And now, Agust is offering you a choice. Either stay here and trust him to help you find yourself again, or leave and risk everything on your own.

You look down, hands fidgeting on your lap as you think it over. Realistically? You don’t have a lot of options. Even if you leave, where would you go? How would you survive with no memory of who you are? Just the idea of stumbling around Bangkok, a city you barely even remember, trying to outwit… whoever is after you seems like a suicide mission.

Besides, there’s something oddly reassuring about Agust, even if his methods are a bit terrifying. He doesn’t look like he’s about to pull any punches, and for some reason, that makes you trust him more. He isn’t hiding who he is or what he’s capable of, and he isn’t sugar-coating the risks. The entire mafia thing is insane, sure, but something in you stirs with a strange familiarity when he speaks about it. It’s as if you’ve known all along, buried somewhere deep down.

You steal another glance at him, noting how he’s watching you, calm and expectant. He isn’t pushing you, just waiting for you to come to a conclusion.

Finally, you sigh and look up, meeting his gaze. “Fine,” you say, exhaling as if to release the last bits of resistance. “I’ll stay. You protect me, and I… I’ll do whatever I did before and help you get what you’re looking for. If this is my best chance at getting those memories back, then I’ll take it.”

A satisfied smile curves Agust’s lips. “Good girl. I knew you’d come around.”

Adora, who’s been watching from across the table, gives a small and excited nod, and the other bodyguards exchange glances. The tension in the room eases, like the whole crew has been waiting for your decision.

“All right, then,” you say, half to yourself. “Guess I’m back to… whatever this is.”

Agust chuckles. “Welcome back to the family.”

–

–

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for this series! ➸ a(mygdala) pilot one shot #1 - distraction and one shot #2 - infatuation ➸ all fics masterlist

a/n: thank you so much reading! apologies for the very dialogue heavy first chapter in this series as I needed to set up the vibe and expectation of reader and Agust D. We'll get more into the mafia bitty gritty in the next chapter as well as eventual smut in later chapaters for these two before shit goes down hehehehe im sorry it'll be a bit of a wait since it's slow burn... but there will be a ton of charged up tension leading into it heheheheh

i had planned to release this earlier this month but after a very intensive job hunt for the past year + 7 months, i finally found a new job! yay! cries... so future updates will take some time. but please please feel free to send me your thoughts or suggestions on things you'd like to see in this series in the future and i will make sure to incorporate it. :) until next time!

[btsugarush]

Hide & Seek | myg (m.list)

❝do you find me sadistic?❞

summary: desperate to rid yourself of crime and murder for the sake of your unborn child, you escape your mafia husband and start fresh with a new man and new identity; but just as life seemed perfect, your former husband shows you that he isn’t too keen on letting you go. you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?

pairings: mafia boss!yoongi x f!reader, kim taehyung x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, tattooed!yoongi, gunplay, use of guns/swords, dom!yoongi, manipulation, abuse, drugs, decapitation, possessive behavior, kidnapping, angst, murder, strong language, torture, 18+, minors dni.

author’s note: oop, another one. hope the anons get mad like it truly affects their life and send hate. anyway my favorite movie in the whole world is kill bill, and when i saw this image of yoongi with a sword it gave me kill bill vibes, so yanno i had to do that for the one time.

©btsugarush. please do not repost.

000 |

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Masterlist

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooow burn, age gap

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. You must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut (eventually), ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD, character death

Snippet

Prologue - 6.7k

Ch. 1: play nice - 19k

Prelude: strangers pt. 1 of 2 - 10.2k

Prelude: strangers pt. 2 of 2 - pending Ch. 2: ... - pending

[yoongimedia]

𝕹𝖔 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉

Summary: „Even the devil was once an angel.“ The highest degree of evil is known as the devil, and he was the most beautiful angel in all of heaven before he fell.

Warnings: toxic relationship, smut, drugs (alcohol is a drug), mind games, stalking, suggestive themes, smut, gun violence, dark!yoongi, strong language, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, 18+, minors dni

Status: ON HOLD!

Authors Note: So, I don’t know how it happened but it happened. I lost all the chapters to this mini series and I don’t know what to do. (11-23-2024)

Mini Series Chaperts:

- Save your tears

- She knows

- Treat you better

- Mercy

©yoongimedia. Please do not repost.

Taglist:

@wobblewobble822 @ilys00ga @stolasisyourparent @florabloomgirly @parapiop7

[ovenbakedbones]

JASMINE!

chapter 2 !

pairing : mafia!yoongi x (eventual) str1pper!reader

genre : romance???? mystery? smut??

summary : yoongi gets tired of seeing you only once a night for a few minutes, so he takes it into his own hands.

note : sorry this took so long ! i’ll start uploading frequently i swear ‼️

thank you for enjoying chapter 1 !

———————————————————————————————

yoongi spends the next week spending as much time with you as possible. its not enough.

everyday, he sits at the bar, nursing his whiskey until the lights turn red and the music slows. he sits in the leather chair thats centre stage, not too far back, but not too much to expose him. just enough for you to notice him. thats all he needs.

he studies you while you sing, taking note of every mole and freckle that paints your perfect skin, and how your hands wrap around the mic stand in front of you. his favourite part of the night is when your eyes travel towards him. you’ve noticed how he started coming in every night, you’ve heard from the other girls that he has no interest in watching them dance or taking them to a private room, and most importantly, you’ve heard of how he always dashes through the dressing room and to the back door in hopes of catching you.

it is pretty cute how badly he wants you.

namjoon has proved useless at finding information about you. jasmine was clearly a stage name and it’s pretty hard to find someone who disappears after 3 minutes. yoongi has debated putting his men in front of the back door so he has no chance of missing you, but namjoon convinced him that it would probably creep you out.

it’s now a sunday night and yoongi is sat at the bar, waiting for you to perform. jin is off flirting with some of the dancers and yoongi cant help but feel a little stupid obsessing over a woman he knows nothing about. his thoughts are interrupted by the dimming of the lights and he walks to his usual seat, his eyes skimming over the crowd.

there is a certain type of crowd that comes to a strip club on a sunday night, and yoongi isnt especially happy to be lumped in with them. unemployed losers who throw their money at women who want nothing to do with them. he chooses to ignore the irony that he is doing the same thing. if not, worse.

his eyes are glued to you as you take the stage and the music begins to play. you’re wearing a black off the shoulder dress that finishes near the top of your thighs. yoongi cant help but admire your collarbones and the way your hair falls onto your shoulders. you look perfect, as always.

but something about your eyes today look different. almost sad.

family (with suzanna son) - the weeknd, suzanna son

arms like the branches of a poplar tree

eyes like the ocean or the great big blue sea

love just like my mothers with a price, its not free

the music starts playing and yoongi notices that it’s slightly off too, it still has the seductive undertones that you use regularly, but something about the lyrics unsettles him. the rest of the crowd are too busy drooling over your bare legs and figure to notice, but yoongi cannot tear his gaze away from the somber look in your eyes.

voice like my fathers, when he screams the house shakes

dreams like my brother’s, oh, we pray for his sake

hopes just like my mothers, only last till her wake

there’s something eerily beautiful about the way you’re singing tonight. your focus seems to be on the back of the room or the floor instead of eyeing up the customers as if you’re interested. how can someone so melancholy look so beautiful?

thats my family

oh, we dont like eachother very much

oh, im okay with that

but it breaks my mothers heart

yoongi furrows his brows, trying to not listen to the lyrics and soak up the little time he has with you, but he cant help but go over the lyrics in his heart and wonder what happened to change your personality so completely. he’s seen you perform at least 6 consecutive nights, so what is so different about today?

he spends the rest of the song overthinking and his eyes dart up when the music fades out. he blinks and you’re leaving the stage, the money that you collected tucked away into your dress.

he gets ahold of himself and half heartedly walks towards the backstage area. he knows you wont be there but he cant stand the possibility of missing an extra moment with you.

the dancers are used to his presence so they ignore him barging through their space and pushing open the back door and looking down the alley.

his eyes widen and his heart stops when he sees you leant against the brick wall with a cigarette in your hand.

he blinks, half expecting you to disappear, and is pleasantly surprised to see you still standing there, one arm wrapped around yourself and the other hovering near your mouth while you take a drag from your cigarette.

he doesnt have time to think before you notice him and lift your head up, tilting it slightly as you take in his appearance, finally not hidden in darkness.

“guess you finally caught me” you tease and take another drag from your cigarette.

yoongi has to clench his jaw in order to keep it shut. how was your speaking voice as beautiful as your singing voice?

he wants to punch himself for how starstruck he must look. he is in charge of hundreds of people, he deals with criminals on a daily basis, he gets any woman he could ever want. why does he feel like a teenage virgin whenever you look at him?

he clears his throat and leans on the wall next to you, speaking up in a raspy voice.

“oh yeah? you been hiding from me?” he smirks and lights a cigarette of his own.

you smirk and shrug and yoongi forces himself to look away from you. he cannot be one of those losers who can’t even speak to a woman without cumming in their pants.

“i see you’ve become a regular. any particular reason?” you ask innocently and look up at him.

fuck. he’s whipped.

he chuckles and blows some smoke towards your direction “you know damn well why”

you smirk and nod while looking away from him.

“yeah, i have an idea”

yoongi bites back a smile. he’s glad you’re as intoxicating to talk to as you are to look at.

“any particular reason you decided to grace me with your presence this evening?” he says while taking another drag.

you laugh a little “decided to put you out of your misery, i’ve heard enough stories of how you try to beat me here every night”

okay. that’s a little embarrassing. fuck those dancers for snitching on him like that. but at least he can finally talk to you now. maybe he should thank those dancers then?

“yknow, you get caught up in your thoughts alot” you say while looking up at him

he smirks “how observant of you. and here i thought you were too busy eye-fucking me to notice”

you laugh “don’t feel special, i eye-fuck all my customers”

“do you have little after-hour chats with all your customers too?”

you roll your eyes “okay, maybe you can feel a little special”

he smirks and puts out his cigarette.

“so what was with the song today?”

you turn to face him with a raised a brow “what about it?”

“dont bullshit me, it was different than the other days i’ve been here” he scoffs

you turn to press your back against the wall again “now whose the wobservant one?”

“come on, angel. be honest with me”

you tilt your head at him “angel?”

“im not calling you jasmine. i’ll either call you your real name, or angel” he grunts, hoping you’ll tell him your name so he can feel at least a little closer to you.

fuck mystery. he wants to know you.

you smirk “angel is fine”

fucking brat.

he rolls his eyes “so? fess up”

you sigh and put out your cigarette.

“its my birthday”

this catches yoongi off guard a little. he doesnt want to bombard you with questions that you most likely wouldnt answer, but he cant deny his curiosity about why you were so sad on your birthday.

so instead, he settles with ….

“oh. happy birthday”

[yearofinstitutionalization]

197/638 One Suga a day while he is away

[borahaerhy]

Regime (Teaser) | myg

Pairing: Ringleader!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is dull. Your job, your hobbies, your downtime: everything is just dull. That is, until your workplace is raided by the anti-capitalist organization run by the notorious Agust D.

Series Warnings: anti-capitalism! mental illness, some gang violence, unaliving, smut, hella angst, drug/alcohol usage, very fowl language

Teaser Warnings: READER IS A BADASS, y/n uses all the self-defense, quite literally bites a chunk out of someone's hand, everyone has a gun, there are a few hostages, Yoongi kicks someone in the face, y/n very casually holds a gun to someone's head, refrences to y/n's childhood being... interesting (relatives' drug usage breifly mentioned)

Wordcount: 689

Note: I have no idea where this is gonna go, might just leave it at this, might make it a oneshot, might fuck around and make it a series I have no idea, lmk your thoughts though :)))

It was odd. 

The parking lot of your job being completely empty had only happened on one other occasion that you could recall; and that was because it was Easter, and everyone had gone home early. 

But today was different. It wasn’t a holiday, and there should have been plenty of work to get done; yet there was no one. Not a single car in the parking lot. As you drove past, you turned your attention to the side of the building, where the security parked. You pulled into the space beside the empty car of one of your coworkers, Nick. 

But it’s ten minutes until shift change; first shift should still be here. Did Nick let them leave early for some reason? Aside from yours and Nick's, there was only one other car in the entire lot. A black SUV parked haphazardly beside Nick's car; and it was still running.

While all of this might scream “danger” to others that would have seen it, to you, while it was weird, that's all it was: weird. It’s a relatively small company; one where there were so few employees that they were all friends. Everyone knew everyone and they often all liked to fuck with one another, maybe this was just some kind of prank. 

While the company was small, it was also one that had no problem fucking over it’s employees when it comes to their paychecks; even whenever the company execs wanted to come in and check the place out, they certainly never would’ve listened to any complaints about pay. 

You cautiously walked up to the door and punched in the pin before you opened the door and stepped in. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you walked into something you definitely wished you hadn’t. 

Tied up in the middle of the floor was the supervisor for the building, Kevin, and the guy supposed to work your shift with you, Nick. They were completely surrounded by men in black, all with guns pointed at their heads. Kevin looked like he just got into a fight and lost; blood covering his face and his nose was crooked, while Nick had a swollen lip. In front of them there was just one man, but as soon as your eyes had adjusted to the dark building, all of them were looking at you. 

Seconds after you walked in, your arms were pinned behind your back and a hand covered your mouth. “Just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere for a second, I have to deal with this asshole before I talk to her,” 

While as a security officer, you hadn’t been trained in any kind of combat, you did grow up with uncles. A lot of them, and they would all get varying levels of high and various substances and decide that you needed to know how to defend yourself. 

So while the man that spoke, the one standing in front of Nick and Kevin, kicks Nick in the chin - no doubt knocking out a few of his teeth - you stamped down on the foot of the man behind you and bit a chunk of flesh from his hand clean off. He screamed, letting go of you so you could turn around and knee him in the groin as one of your hands took the gun out of his side holster and held it to his head. 

You stood beside him, facing the group of people with one hand holding the gun to his head while the other was up, level with your head to show you weren't armed more than what they could see. You spit out the chunk of flesh that you still had in your mouth, mostly for dramatic effect, and slowly moved your free hand down to wipe the blood from your lips. 

Everyone was staring at you, even the boss was staring at you with a kind of intensity that would’ve been hard for anyone to withstand. “You can finish whatever you were doing, I’m not going anywhere, I just don’t really like people touching me,”

[misbangtan]

Will Wait For You Suga/AgustD / Min Yoongi 2025 🫡💜

[onlyforyoukook]

°•*⁀➷ BTS M.LIST ᡣ𐭩

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

🍬 - smut

🌷 - fluff

❤️‍🩹 - angst

📱 - smau or texts

🖊️ - drabble

🧛‍♀️ - one shot

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ kim seokjin - coming soon

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ min yoongi - coming soon

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jung hoseok - coming soon

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ kim namjoon -

• kim namjoon as your bestfriend (📱)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ park jimin -

• only for you (🌷),(🧛‍♀️)

「 Jimin shows y/n that no matter how close he gets with others for work, she’ll always be his one and only. 」

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ kim taehyung - coming soon

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jeon jungkook -

• daddy issues (🍬),(❤️‍🩹),(🧛‍♀️)

「 your nonchalant mafia husband who never pays attention to you but something changes his mind or someone.. 」

• let’s make a movie (🍬),(🧛‍♀️)

「 you suggested the idea, to make a sex tape with jungkook. 」

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

masterlist

part 17

Yoongi could only follow behind as Margot threw herself into the restaurant and into Tae-il’s waiting arms. A small smile, one that was barely even there, pulled at the corner of his lips as he watched the reunion.

Here Margot was free with her affection. She made no effort to hide how much she loved the old man, and Tae-il made no attempt to hide how relieved he was to see her alive and in one piece, clutching the young woman to him as she threw her arms around him in a heartwarming homecoming. She was happy here in a way that she was not back at the penthouse.

Yoongi felt the briefest twinge of guilt before it was swept away. She’d be just as happy with him in time. She’d been happy with him before, and she would again. It didn’t sit quite so well with him though that she was so happy somewhere that wasn’t with him. He knew the ugly feeling welling up in his chest was jealousy, but he refused to acknowledge that he was jealous of someone who was practically her father.

“Margot, what are you doing here?” Tae-il whispered into her hair as he clutched her tight.

“He offered to bring me here for lunch.” she whispered back. “Don’t mention the call.”

Tae-il nodded, squeezing her tight again before letting her go. “I’ve missed you, Margot.” He held her at arms length scanning her for any injuries. “You look ill.” He noted, quickly taking in the slightly ashen note to her skin after several days wallowing, and the faint circles under her eyes. “Has he not been taking care of you?”

“I’ve been taking very good care of her.” Yoongi piped up with a scoff, walking over with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Your niece is very stubborn though.”

“Then you should have taken better care of her.” Tae-il sniped back, pushing Margot slightly behind him as though that would stop Yoongi from getting to her if he truly wanted to. She was there by his good will, and they would leave when he wanted them to. Everything in between was a gift to Margot.

“I take perfectly good care of her.” He sniped back, before bowing and muttering a respectful greeting. He was here to win points after all not to alienate her family.

Tae-il surveyed the younger man, taking him in with a certain distaste that had not been there in years past but had been all too prevalent since they’d crossed paths again. If he’d had his way, Margot would have been set up with a nice boy like that young detective who regularly came to the restaurant. She would have been safe and happy and settled with someone who wasn’t involved in unsavory business, but that wasn’t what fate had had in store for the young woman, and he could only hope that she would be able to disentangle herself from the young man before it was too late.

“Have you eaten, Margot?” Tae-il asked, tearing his attention away from Yoongi and placing it back on Margot.

“Not yet.” she shook her head, eyeing the two men carefully as though a fist fight was about to break out. “We just finished some errands. I was wearing a hole through his credit card in retaliation for the kidnapping.”

“Did it work?”

Margot sighed dramatically, sinking into the seat of one of the empty tables with Tae-il taking the one across from her. “Unfortunately not. He’s ridiculously okay with me spending all his money.”

“He hasn’t hurt you has he?” Tae-il asked, brows scrunched together in a serious expression.

“I would never hurt her.” Yoongi grumbled, affronted by the question as he took the seat next to Margot. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A criminal.” Margot and Tae-il responded in unison much to Yoongi’s chagrin.

Margot did her best to keep conversation light and as unsuspicious as possible as lunch continued. Any mistake on her part could mean the end to her supposed freedom. She still wasn’t sure that Yoongi was completely serious about letting her leave the penthouse whenever she wanted so long as her guard dogs went with her. She had a sneaking suspicion that any major mistakes on her part and Yoongi would take that freedom away as quickly as he had given it. She knew with absolute certainty that her phone call to Tae-il earlier would be one of those mistakes.

Tae-il was doing an admirable job of pretending as though the conversation had never happened, and Yoongi was none the wiser. For the most part he had kept quiet over the course of lunch, content to sit with his arm slung over the back of her chair watching her as she sat and caught up with the only family she had in the country.

His eyes remained glued on her the entire time, transfixed by the way she smiled as she spoke to her ‘uncle’. She was happy here in the restaurant, at ease. Yoongi hadn’t seen her truly at ease since he’d laid eyes on her that first night. Ever since then she’d been holding herself back from him, stiff and wary. He loved seeing her like this though. Like this she was bright and vibrant.

He could take in all of her when she was like this. He could appreciate the way she talked with her hands just like she had when they were in school together. He could see the way the corners of her eyes creased when she laughed, her eyes sparkling. It wasn’t a half-hearted scoff or sardonic chuckle. This was a joyous sound that bubbled up from her and overtook her whole being, her head thrown back causing the little gold bumble bees dangling from her ears to sparkle in the light.

As happy as Yoongi was to see her like this, he couldn’t completely dampen down the burning jealousy that roiled in his gut. Part of him hated that he wasn’t the one who had caused her to laugh like this. He hadn’t been the one to make her this happy. The few times her attention had wavered to him the spark had flickered from her eye replaced by an annoyance that did nothing to sooth his jealous spirit.

It was that jealous spark that encouraged him to try to draw her attention back to him. It was little things. The tips of his fingers would trail across the upper part of her arm, a delicate motion that pulled her attention to him for a moment as if to ask him to stop, all though he didn’t. She was his girl after all,and he had every right to touch her. It grounded him in a way and helped him to keep jealousy at bay when he touched her. It reminded him that she was right there with him even if her attention wasn’t focused on him.

Yoongi didn’t consider himself to be a jealous man, not usually, but there was something about Margot that raised all sorts of demons within him. For her he would commit all sorts of unspeakable crimes. He would do just about anything if she commanded it. If so much as a hair on her precious head was harmed, he would raze the city to the ground. Granted he would never tell her any of this. His Margot was a precious creature who wouldn’t want him to do such things for her sake. She wouldn’t want him to do such things though as was proven by her current disdain for him.

Just as he had gotten his jealousy under control a deep voice called out, pulling all three of their attentions towards the door of the restaurant.

“Margot-ssi!”

Yoongi and Margot both turned to see Kim Namjoon standing in the doorway looking rumpled and harried as though he had rushed over and his eyes fixed on Margot with extreme relief. It was a look that didn’t sit well with Yoongi at all. His eyes narrowed in on the other man as he made his way towards the group his focus on Margot who was sitting and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Margot-ssi,” he started, a little breathless. “Are you alright? Tae-il-ssi said you had been kidnapped, and no one could reach you!”

“Namjoon-ssi.” Margot gave him a smile, a strained brittle expression not at all like the smiles she had displayed up until then. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“Margot-ssi…” Namjoon hesitated, taking stock of the strained atmosphere around Margot and Tae-il and of how Yoongi was staring daggers at him.

Margot glanced between Namjoon and Yoongi very aware of how precarious the situation was. Both men looked like they wanted to knock the other flat on their ass, and she doubted very much that a brawl would do much for her freedom.

“Namjoon-ssi, it’s good to see you. How have you been?” She kept the smile on her face bright as she glanced from Yoongi to Namjoon again trying, to signal that he also needed to keep the situation light- for all their sakes.

“I’ve been well.” He responded, words slow and measured as he tried to puzzle out what Margot was trying to tell him. “No one has heard from you in a few days. We weren’t sure you were alright.”

Yoongi scoffed at that, his derision clear. “Of course she’s alright. I would never let anything happen to my Margot.”

“I’m sure.” Namjoon replied dryly, his own distaste for Yoongi just as clear. “But you can understand the concern when no one could get a hold of her, and no one knew where she was.”

Yoongi smiled, a terrible and sharp expression more reminiscent of a predator baring their teeth than a smile. “As you can see, she’s perfectly fine. No need to worry.”

Namjoon replied with a smile of his own, an expression that was equally as strained and untrue as Yoongi’s. “Of course there was a need to worry. I’m sure you’d be just as worried if she disappeared for a week, and you couldn’t reach her. It’s natural to think that something… unsavory had happened.”

Yoongi moved his arm from the back of her chair to wrap it around her waist, pulling her snuggly into his side. “As you can see, she’s just fine, Detective Kim.”

“I think I’d like to hear that from her, if that’s alright with you?” Namjoon kept up his smile, quirking a brow in an almost challenging expression as he spoke to Yoongi.

“Margot?” Yoongi asked, eyes glittering with something dark and wild as he turned the question over to her.

Margot didn’t need him to say it to know what would happen if she didn’t choose her words very carefully. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her that she wouldn’t like the consequences should this interaction not go his way. She didn’t think he would harm her, but she wouldn’t put it past him to harm Tae-il or Maria. She wouldn’t put it past him to harm Namjoon either if the detective continued to get on his nerves, and that wasn’t something that Margot wanted weighing on her conscience.

“I’m perfectly unharmed.” she replied, keeping her smile fixed in place despite the anxiety churning in her gut. “I’m sorry to have worried everyone though. My phone broke, and I haven’t had a chance to replace it yet.”

“I thought you were heading to the countryside to help out Tae-il-ssi's brother?” Namjoon questioned, not believing her for a moment.

“Plans changed.”

Namjoon nodded, glancing between her and Yoongi and taking note of the way that Yoongi’s arm kept itself possessively curled around her. He noted the stiff way in which she held herself in his embrace and the nervous way in which Tae-il’s eyes kept darting between her, Yoongi, and Namjoon as though waiting for something bad to happen. He noted the pleading look in Margot’s eyes, willing him to leave the situation alone for the moment. He noted the way that Yoongi looked at him as though willing him to make a mistake of some kind.

“You should really get your phone fixed, Margot-ah.” He switched to the informal, taking special notice of the way that Yoongi’s expression turned even more sour. “Text me when you get it fixed. You know I’m always happy to help if you need anything.”

“I have all of Margot’s needs well in hand.” Yoongi interrupted before Margot could say anything else. “That I can promise you.”

He flexed his arm, pulling Margot imperceptibly closer. It was a possessive act meant to send a clear signal to Namjoon that his assistance wasn’t needed or wanted.

“I’ll give you a call when I can.” Margot promised, attempting to break the tension though it did little good.

“I’ll hold you to it.” he nodded, shooting her a charming smile that only served to make Yoongi’s blood boil.

Yoongi stood suddenly, pulling Margot up with him as he gave their bullshit excuses and goodbyes to Namjoon and Tae-il. “Let’s go, Margot.”

“Yoon-Yoongi!” She stuttered out, trying to pull out of his hold as he made a half-hearted goodbye to Tae-il for the sake of politeness and began to drag her towards the entrance of the restaurant. “Yoongi, wait!”

“We’re going home.” He growled, tugging her forward his grip firm but not painful as he forced her onward.

“Yoongi, please!”

The patrons in the restaurant watched on in morbid fascination to what they had to have thought was a domestic dispute. People loved to watch other people’s dramas unfold, and this was certainly a good one given the way everyone was staring.

“You can’t make her go if she doesn’t want to.” Namjoon asserted, striding forward and grabbing her free hand at the wrist. The motion stopped their whole group in its track.

Yoongi’s eyes slowly traveled down to where Namjoon’s hand was clasped around Margot’s wrist, narrowing in displeasure his jaw clenched.

“Remove your hand before I remove it for you.” He hissed, his own grip tightening on Margot’s other arm.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere she doesn’t want to.”

Her eyes darted between the two, her mind racing as she tried to configure a plan to keep Yoongi from committing a murder in the middle of the day. The look in his eye didn’t promise good things if Namjoon didn’t let go of her wrist soon.

“Yoongi.” she murmured, her voice all soft and pleading. “Yoongi, it’s alright.”

His attention flickered back to her briefly before it returned back to Namjoon his tongue in his cheek.

“Namjoon.” Margot implored, turning to the other man. “Namjoon, I’m fine, but you need to let go now.”

“You can’t seriously want me to let you go with him?” Namjoon asked, incredulous. “Margot, just last week the very thought of him terrified you so much that you wanted to leave the city. You can’t want to go with him now.”

Her eyes flickered to Yoongi’s quickly, taking in the dangerous set of his jaw as he listened. This was going south far too quickly, and she didn’t know how much damage control she could do if any.

“I’ll be just fine, Namjoon. He’s not going to hurt me.” She kept her tone even and calm even though her limbs were shaking. She knew that Namjoon could feel the tremors. “I’ll call and let you know that I’m fine as soon as I can.”

“Mari-ah.” Yoongi called her name sharply.

She turned to him briefly and then back to Namjoon. “Could you do me a favor, Namjoon?”

“Anything.”

“Look after Tae-il for me?”

Gently, Margot tugged her wrist out of his hold, turning her whole attention back to Yoongi who was silently seething next to her.

“Take me home, Yoongi.” she requested, keeping the same soft pleading in her voice as before. Her gaze flitted across his features anxiously, the feeling growing worse and worse the longer that they stood there immobile.

Margot had always been a peacemaker. Perhaps it was due to her own parent’s unhappy marriage the resulting unhappy childhood that had been inflicted on herself and her sister. Perhaps it was a byproduct of the anxiety that she was riddled with. Perhaps it was just her nature, but better for worse she was a peacemaker. If there was a way that she could keep an argument from breaking out or that she could ease tension in a situation, she would do it, ever the people pleaser.

“Take me home.” she repeated, less a request now than an order no matter how softly spoken it was, and much to her relief, it worked.

Yoongi’s expression softened. The tension left his jaw, and his eyes took on less of a glare as he looked at her. He was a hard man, but he would always be soft for her.

“Yoongi.” she tried again, her tone even more firm than before though her voice was still soft as she spoke. “Take me home.”

part 18

[be-my-ambulance]

Agust D - Haegeum

[rebeca3]

Army do you have some good fanfic recommendations?

[bangtanhoneys]

louder than bombs - snippet (bts mafia)

I may never fully write this, but this snippet needs to see the light of day

Warnings: torture, woman getting beaten up

She doesn’t know how long she’s been held captive. 

The seconds, minutes and hours have turned into days and there’s no sign of relief or someone coming to get her out of there. She’s been beaten black and blue and she’s pretty sure her arm is broken but the pain is everywhere so it’s hard to tell. 

It’s also even harder to tell who is who anymore. 

At first she could recognise a couple of those who took pleasure in slamming their fists into her face or a kick aimed at her ribs, but now new people were coming in all the time and there seemed to be no sign of it all stopping. 

Where was he? Where were any of them? 

Wasn’t there meant to be a code that if one of them went missing in a day the search party would be out in the streets of Seoul, searching everywhere and everyone. No stone would be left unturned.

But she had been left behind. 

Alone.

There was no use in crying anymore as that seemed to be a trigger for all of them to beat her even more, the torture unending as they tried every trick in the book to get the answer to the question they sorely needed:

Where was Bangtan?

There was another code to keep utterly quiet and say nothing, not without lawyers, not without protection, not without her brother. 

And so she said nothing.

And the more she said nothing, the more they hurt her. 

She stared up at the figure in front of her, her left eye swollen shut but her right one was still open and she could see. Her nose was broken, had lost a couple of teeth in the process and her tongue was hurting from where she had tried not to scream.

“She looks so much like him.”

“That’s because she’s his twin, you idiot.”

The words weren’t sinking in anymore as her brain had completely shut down, trying to keep her sane enough to think of a plan to get the hell out of there. She knew she couldn’t handle much more and that she was hanging on by a thread. 

“Well, let’s make her more like him then.”

The flicker of a knife caught her attention as did the hands on her arms, making her scream out in pain when they held tight on her fractured bones. That didn’t deter them as they held on tighter, someone keeping her head in place.

“Min Inhyeon.”

Her name. That caught her attention.

“One last time - where is your twin?”

She stayed silent for a moment, her eyes watching the knife and she gave her answer by shaking her head.

“Fair enough.”

The knife on her skin above her eyebrow caused her to scream, that thread holding onto her sanity broken just as her skin just as chaos around them reigned. It seemed Bangtan had just arrived; too little, too late.

[yoonmetogether]

Part 1 Teaser

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooow burn

summary: your brother calls you in for a chat, and upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit.

"I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread of files he laid out on your desk.

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options." Those goddamn shades. You can’t tell if he’s even looking at you.

"Are you sure?” You snark. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble." You search the parts of his face you can see for any kind of reaction, the only one playing as a tight line drawn between his lips, and you take that as a small victory.

"He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

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(potential!) drop date: october 2 at some point in the middle of the night EST lol

Check out the prologue! (featuring 2seok!)