#mafia min yoongi x you

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: VI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I miss Yoongi. I hope his heart is happy right now

Masterlist, Latibule 2.V

If you tell Yoongi to go to hell, he’d most likely laugh at your face and told you that he had already been there.

He was there.

He lived there. In fact, hell was an old friend of his, one that he spent too much time with. Hell was before you, long before. He just never thought there could be a hell after you.

Each day after your supposedly demise was hell for him– a nightmare that just wouldn’t end. It was something he couldn’t escape. It was as though his world was devoid of any good, of any color and taste, of any happiness. Hell was not a place. No. Hell was a feeling.

It was the weight that pressed down on him every morning, the heaviness in his chest when he opened his eyes to find your side of the bed empty. Hell was the silence that replaced your laughter, the absence of your voice calling his name, the ghost of your touch that never quite left his skin. Hell was the cold, unrelenting thought that you were gone, and that he'd never get to hold you again.

It was exactly what he was feeling as you looked at him with disgust in your eyes. It was the way you looked at him as though you no longer recognized him. It was the way you wanted nothing but to leave him again.

Yet Yoongi knew what heaven was, too. He had known because of you.

You were his heaven. You were his latibule, his safe place, the one person who could calm the storms inside him. When you were with him, he could breathe.

You had been the anchor, the one thing that kept him tethered to a life that wasn’t just pain and darkness. When you ‘died’, he just kept sinking. It was too cold without you. You took the sun with you and every day since then felt like he was drowning. It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how many things had changed in the world around him—nothing mattered when you were gone. You had been everything.

He wanted to tell you that hell wasn’t a place. It was a life without you in it. And for Yoongi, that was the cruelest punishment of all.

So, forgive him if he couldn’t let go. Forgive him for holding on so tightly, because after all the pain, after all the years of suffocating, the thought of losing you again was simply unimaginable.

He wouldn’t let go, not even when you were glaring at him so hard from your position on the hospital bed. All that mattered was that you were here, you were alive, and he wasn’t going to let you slip away again.

And that was how Seokjin found you and Yoongi.

He blinked at the atmosphere in the hospital room. The animosity coming from you was too strong, while Yoongi was just shrugging off your irritation., his hold on your hand not letting up for even a second.

The scene was enough to suffocate him—his eyes flicking between you, still glaring at Yoongi with fire in your eyes, and Yoongi, whose posture was relaxed but whose expression was softer, almost... defeated. It was clear to Seokjin that Yoongi was not going to move an inch, and you, in your hospital bed, weren’t about to give in. The tension in the room was so thick it almost had a physical presence.

“For the record,” Seokjin started, trying to cut through the tension as he checked your dextrose and adjusted the IV drip, his voice light and casual as though he was merely talking about the sunny weather outside. "I’d rather be in a ten-day conference with a bunch of idiots than be here right now. Scratch that. I’d rather be with Jungkook and listen to him go on and on about missing his wife than be here. Honestly."

Silence.

Seokjin sighed as he turned away from the bedside table, jotting something down on his tablet. “I also know a good relationship therapist. I’ll give you her card later, Yoongs.”

Yoongi finally looked up at Seokjin, his eyes tired but steady. “Not in the mood for your jokes, hyung.”

“Are you in the mood to let me go?” You asked dryly, you brain itching to leave the hospital and go back to your own life.

Yoongi smirked, his eyes flicking to yours, a teasing glint softening the sharp edges of his gaze. His fingers tightened around yours just enough to remind you he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. “Not a chance, angel.” His lips curled into a playful smile, and before you could even process what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, much to your reluctant surprise.

He wanted to say that he would rather clip your wings. That way, you wouldn’t be able to fly away from him like the angel that you were.

“Drama,” Seokjin singsonged. It would have been impressive how effortlessly his voice flowed, how rich it sounded despite the absurdity of the moment. It would have been, had you not been absolutely annoyed at him. “I’m allergic to that, by the way. Jimin, on the other hand, would thrive in this. I will call him as soon as I finish this.”

Before Yoongi could even respond, Seokjin turned his full attention to you. “I have the results, as well as your records from your previous doctor. I am sure you're already well-aware of your diagnosis. I’m not going into details—"

“Do go into the details,” Yoongi insisted, almost impatient, as he wanted to know all about what happened and who he had to go after for turning you into this. They took something from you and he firmly believed that he should take something from theirs, too.

"I don’t want to," Seokjin said with a simplicity that dripped with smugness, his voice cool and collected in a way that only he could pull off. His gaze shifted to Yoongi, and he pouted exaggeratedly, lips curling into the perfect picture of a petulant child—a brat, through and through. "Time is gold, and you know I’m scheduled every day from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. to look for my runaway sunshine. It’s already 9:23 in the morning, and my sunshine won’t find itself, now, will it?"

“Hyung, it is important that I find-”

 “So, going back before we were rudely interrupted,” he cut him off, completely turning his body to you with a smile on his face. “Operation or no operation? Blind or no blind?”

You blinked owlishly at his approach. The way he phrased it made it feel almost… casual. As though your fate were just another routine decision, like choosing a drink at a café. There was no warmth in his tone, no hesitation. Just… options. And a lack of them at the same time.

The stakes were far higher than Seokjin seemed to realize, but then again, maybe that was exactly how he managed to remain so calm. He had mastered detachment.

“What are the chances of success?” you asked, finally finding your voice. The question tumbled out before you could stop it, and you immediately regretted how small it sounded in the weight of the room. Despite your acceptance with your situation, there was still a part of you that clung to hope that you could live normally again and without the weight of the impending disability. There was a part of you that was praying so hard that you’d get to witness your son grow up.

Seokjin didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t even seem to think twice before answering. He spoke almost like he was offering you a simple piece of advice.

“Forty-sixty,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a casual coolness that didn’t match the gravity of his words. “But since I’m the doctor… fifty-fifty.”

Suddenly, it hit Yoongi. It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t one moment, but a sudden avalanche of all the things he hadn’t seen—the things he should have noticed, the things he was too blind to acknowledge, and yet, here they were, all crashing back to him with the force of a thousand waves.

How you had always moved through the dark like it was second nature to you, as though you had already prepared for it. How you never stumbled, never hesitated, even when the room’s lights were out, your steps confident and sure, like you already knew the path in the pitch blackness.

Then there were the nights. Every night, without fail, you would step outside and look at the stars, your gaze soft and wistful, as if you were committing each constellation to memory, as though you feared you might never see them again.

And those mornings. The mornings when you would wake up, your eyes still heavy with sleep, but you would always look at him with such tenderness, a kind of reverence in your gaze that he had never fully understood. Sometimes, when you thought he was asleep, you’d trace the angles of his face with your fingertips, gently memorizing the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the lines of his brow—as if you feared forgetting them, as though you were trying to make sure every detail was etched into your memory forever.

But it wasn’t until that dreadful day that everything crashed down around him.

The day when you failed to see the car coming, when you didn’t even flinch as it came dangerously close, and he had to shout your name to pull you back in time. That moment, when his heart had stopped, and he had felt something break inside of him, but he hadn’t understood why. He thought it was just a close call. He thought you were distracted.

But now, in the quiet aftermath of Seokjin’s words, it all made sense. Your condition was worse than he anticipated.

The decision itself was no brainer to you. You knew what you would choose. There was no assurance that you would see again, and you had long accepted your fate. It just became more difficult now that you had a son. You thought that you would rather lose your sight slowly than lose it all at once. That way, you reasoned, you could still bask in his innocent face and commit his form to memory than to never see him again.

You were about to respond, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, Yoongi stood up suddenly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. His face shifted from quiet tension to outright frustration, morphing into an expression of disbelief, as if this whole conversation was beneath him.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Yoongi said, his voice rising with impatience. "My Angel will go under the operation—"

You cut him off immediately, spinning to face him with a glare sharp enough to cut through his words.

“Who says I will?” You shot him an incredulous look, appalled by his audacity. You turned to him with an incredulous look. The audacity of this man who fooled you to decide for you! “You don’t have a say in this.”

Yoongi froze, his expression falling into an unreadable mask for a moment before a humorless chuckle left his lips. He didn't like this, not one bit. In fact, he seemed almost offended by your defiance. He barely spared you a glance before turning to Seokjin, his entire posture brimming with the kind of authority he rarely let slip.

“I’ll pay double the cost, hyung,” he said with the kind of conviction that usually made people back down. “Whatever the cost is, I’ll double it. No, I’ll triple it, hyung. She will be well.”

 “Does my decision not matter?!”

Seokjin, thankfully, didn’t let the moment drag on too long. With an exaggerated grimace, he turned to Yoongi, his voice dripping with mock disgust.

“Ew,” Seokjin said, his tone like he’d just stepped in something unpleasant. He glanced Yoongi up and down, as if inspecting him, before tapping away at his tablet with exaggerated speed. "You should know that money does nothing for me." He paused, just long enough to let that sink in, then flashed the tablet at you like it was some kind of trophy.

"Look!" he said with a wide, almost smug grin. "And that’s just my money in one of the many, many, many accounts I have. My and sunshine’s future children can live off of my wealth for several generations." He flicked his eyes over to Yoongi, his expression gleeful, as if he’d just won an argument that wasn’t even his to win.

“And besides!” Seokjin continued, not missing a beat. “I cannot operate on someone in my hospital without consent! That is malpractice!”

Yoongi’s eyes flared with incredulity. "That is where you draw the line?!" His voice rose again, this time laced with disbelief, frustration, and something else, something darker. "Malpractice? You—"

“Well, I have to draw the line somewhere!” Seokjin said, his voice light and teasing, though the words held a strange weight, the corners of his lips curling into a playful smirk. “If I don’t, I’ll be just like the Joker—only with a more handsome, perfect, and immaculate face. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He winked for emphasis, clearly pleased with his own self-deprecating humor. But as ridiculous as his words sounded, there was a sharp truth to them. Heavens knew what might happen if Seokjin ever truly lost the tiny bit of humanity and morality he still clung to. That would be a terrifying thought.

But Yoongi wasn’t laughing.

He was standing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight with frustration. His eyes were a storm of emotion, and as much as he tried to suppress it, there was a flicker of desperation burning beneath the surface.

Seokjin seemed to sense it, his tone turning a bit more serious as he let the joke fall away. “But hyung—” Yoongi began, stepping forward, his voice cracking with a rare vulnerability. “You don’t understand, I need her to be—”

“Only family members can decide for a medical procedure on behalf,” Seokjin interrupted him with an almost bored finality, his tone sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. “Are you her husband? No? Then no. She has to decide for herself.”

Seokjin turned to him, and this time his eyes didn’t have the usual glint they had on them. This time, it was cold and serious. It was as though there was a switch in his hyung, one that he could freely turn on and off. “Trust me on this, Yoongi.”

He looked down at his watch with a frown. “You made me late. It’s already 10:01! I am definitely going to charge this in your bill!” He ranted on, his long legs moved with purpose, and for a moment, Yoongi almost forgot how ridiculous Seokjin could be when he was trying to make a point.

But just as Seokjin reached the door, he stopped and turned on his heel, his gaze shifting to you.

“And you,” Seokjin pointed directly at you with an overly dramatic flourish, “you have a week to decide. A week, understand? You have to decide, or I will,” he raised his brows at you, hinting another thing that you should disclose to his brother. Your eyes widened at what he was insinuating and you knew your time was running out. You were starting to wonder what his play was that he was actively keeping quiet regarding the other thing that he found out – the secret that you never wanted Yoongi to know. “For the meantime, I’ll discharge you. Don’t get too comfortable here. The two of you are ruining the vibes in my immaculate hospital with your angst that’s definitely worse than Nicholas Spark’s drama novels!”

Yoongi, still standing stiffly in the middle of the room, opened his mouth, probably to protest or to demand more information, but Seokjin wasn’t finished. No, the grand finale was just beginning.

He turned, his finger now wagging at Yoongi with comical intensity. "And you!" Seokjin’s voice rose again, sharper now. "Unless you can become her husband in a week, the decision is just hers to make! Got it? Are you sure you understand? You do? You don’t? Okay, bye!"

“This is kidnapping,” you noted as he lead you inside his penthouse. To be honest, you were terrified of entering another unfamiliar territory. You got so used to your old place and knowing where everything was, knowing which direction to step to avoid uneven floorings, and of knowing all the edges and corners your place had that it became your comfort zone. You were independent there, so opposite to who you were reduced to right now in his space. When your sight worsened further, Hoseok suddenly stopped moving places so often. He decided that it had been long enough and that the family he took for his own was safe and forgotten by him. He decided to show you the soft side of his heart when he noticed how bad you were starting to struggle.

He didn’t know that that was going to become his downfall.

And now, you were back to square one.

“You can call it what you want, and I’ll call it what I want. This is called taking my Angel home,” he replied, his voice deep. He surmised from his drive home that it didn’t matter what you were feeling right now nor the hatred that you kept deep in your heart for him. You loved him once, you sure as hell could do it again.

He’d make you.

He was sure he could because the opposite of that happening was unimaginable to him.

“I’m not your property. I’m not your angel,” you seethed as you attempted to pull your hand away from his. Everything had gone by way too fast that it left you reeling. Your past and present collided, and you feared that you could no longer keep up. At the end of the day, you just wanted to see your son. You wanted, no. You needed to see him longer, to be able to use your sense of sight for far longer before you were subjected to a life of darkness without ever seeing his face again.

Yoongi’s mouth curled into a small, unreadable smile as he gently guided you toward the sofa. His touch never wavered. He was careful, but in a way that only made the underlying control more apparent. When he finally settled you down, he didn’t back off. No, he planted himself right in front of you, on the coffee table, his knee brushing against your thigh, forcing you into his orbit, where you could no longer escape.

"Why is that, angel?" he asked, his voice low, each word dripping with something that could have been sympathy, if it wasn’t for the edge in his tone. You knew that tone well enough. It wasn’t about soothing you. It wasn’t about offering comfort. It was about breaking you down, piece by piece, until he had enough of your cracks exposed to know how to fix what was broken between you two.

The smile on his lips widened slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were cold, searching, calculating, and you hated how easily you could feel the weight of his gaze as it settled on you. He wasn’t asking a question, not really.

“Because you claimed that I want you gone? That it was me who wanted you dead?” His voice was calm, too calm, but you could hear the quiet fury behind it. His words were deliberate, every one of them cutting through the air like a knife, honing in on your weak points with pinpoint accuracy.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into the fabric of your jeans, trying to hold onto the shred of control you still had. His proximity made it harder to breathe, harder to think, but you refused to let him see you falter. You wouldn’t let him think that you were weaker than you’d been before. You wouldn’t.

“You’re asking me that now?” you spat, the words hot with defiance, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying you. “After everything that’s happened? After you… you did what you did?”

Yoongi tilted his head, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture that made it clear he wasn’t even close to finished with you. He had no intention of letting you get away with anything. Without warning, his hands gripped yours—gentle, but unyielding. You tried to pull away, but his hold was steady, calculated, as he brought your trembling hands to his lips. The warmth of his mouth pressed softly against your skin, and each kiss felt like a slow burn, searing through the thin walls of your resistance as he whispered. “And what exactly did I do the night of the accident? Didn’t I do my absolute best to save you? Didn’t I almost die, too?” You were shaking your head even before he finished speaking. All the thoughts in your mind were chaotic. The constant statements of Hoseok that Yoongi lied, that he was Agustd and that he wanted you dead were clashing with what Yoongi was saying.

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of panic hitting you like a slap to the face. He was wrong. He had to be. His words were poison, they twisted things, warped them into something unrecognizable. The chaos in your mind roared louder, drowning out his voice, but still, the cracks in your resolve grew wider with every second he spoke.

“No?” His voice dropped even lower, and you could hear the challenge in it, the subtle shift of control. “Angel, just because you didn’t know that I was crazy looking for you doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, an erratic beat that only matched the mess of thoughts colliding inside your mind. “If you really looked for me, then why didn’t you find me?!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. Your voice trembled with all the pain, the months of waiting, the helplessness that had turned into something darker, something bitter.

You wanted to scream that you waited. You wanted to say that for months, there was a part of you that clung to hope that he’d find you and your son, that he would explain and that everything would be back to the way they were. You wanted to say you waited and waited until hope morphed into an ugly hatred. You waited until the love turned into suspicions and manipulations. You waited until love had to fade in the background.

But your voice faltered. The words caught in your throat.

“Who looked for me?” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own disbelief. “Was it Suga? Was it Yoongi? Or was it Agustd?”

Yoongi’s expression darkened, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with something close to anger—an emotion so raw, so real, that it stopped you in your tracks. But then, just as quickly, his face softened, and he reached for you again, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand.

“Me, my angel,” he replied softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Your Suga. I looked for you. I searched for you.”

The silence that followed hung heavy, thick with the unspoken truths you were both refusing to face. Yoongi exhaled a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of everything pressing down on him was almost too much to bear.

“I already told you that I don’t want you gone,” he said, his voice edged with frustration now, the calmness cracking. “Whoever has been feeding you those lies is the one manipulating you. Not me. I already told you the truth.”

You flinched at his words, the sting of them cutting through your confusion like a blade. He was still trying to make you believe him, trying to make you accept his version of reality. And the worst part was, part of you—part of you—wanted to.

But the pain, the years of waiting, the broken trust, the sense of abandonment—it was too much. You had to protect yourself, even if it meant shutting him out. Even if it meant believing the lies, the twisted stories you had heard from others. They had to be true. Didn’t they?

“But you’re not ready to hear that, are you?” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts, colder now, sharper. “You’d rather believe the lies that that person is telling you.”

“Think, angel,” he said, his voice low but forceful, each word coming out with such purpose that it shook you to your core. “You know my past. You know how my parents were. You know I would never do to someone I love what they did to me, more so I would never do that to you.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he continued, his voice a soft, almost desperate whisper. “So why do you think that I would do anything to hurt you? Why would I want the only person I have ever loved so fucking sincerely and dearly that it physically hurt?”

You felt the weight of his words pressing down on you, the intensity in his voice pushing you to the brink of something you couldn’t yet grasp. The emotions, the memories, they were swirling in your mind, fighting for dominance. You could feel his pain, his truth, but you couldn’t let yourself go there—not yet. Not when everything was so raw, so broken. Not when he had been the one to break you in ways that couldn’t be easily fixed.

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was a sharp, desperate plea. “Just stop, Yoongi. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with something else—something deeper, something you couldn’t read, but it made your chest tighten. He wasn’t letting you escape. Not this time.

“No.” His voice was firm, unyielding, and it made your breath catch in your throat. “You will hear this, angel. You need to hear this once and for all. I would never hurt you. You have my whole heart. You have my soul.” He was so close now, his presence overwhelming, and the words spilled out of him like a confession. “The only thing I did wrong was failing to protect the only person I have and will ever love.”

His gaze locked onto yours, raw and unfiltered, as though he was trying to pour every ounce of himself into you. You wanted to turn away, to block him out, but your body felt like it was frozen in place, unable to move under the weight of his words.

“I am Agustd,” he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through your bones, “but to you, I am your Suga. I breathe and live for you.”

You shook your head, trying to push the conflicting emotions away, but they only pressed harder against you. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. His words twisted around your heart, like hands pulling at your insides, but the damage—the damage—had already been done. The things he had left unsaid, the lies, the betrayal, you couldn’t just let that go.

Jung Hoseok’s warnings echoed in your mind, "Yoongi's a liar. Agustd is a monster. He's the one who wanted you dead." The words were like knives, cutting through the fragile web of trust that you had left for him.

“Jung Hoseok was a master manipulator,” Yoongi continued, his voice steady, even as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing against yours. “If he’s the one feeding you lies—and I bet he was—then you need to hear this. His skills could rival that of Taehyung’s. I don’t blame you, even someone trained to resist would find it difficult to not believe in his well-crafted lies.”

You flinched at the mention of Hoseok’s name, the anger in your chest flaring, but Yoongi wasn’t finished. His words were no longer pleading; they were final, like he had made up his mind, and there was no turning back.

“Now that everything is said and done, you will never leave my side again.” His tone was possessive, unyielding, and something dark flickered in his eyes—like a promise, or a threat. “You will be better. I will give you my fucking eye if I have to.” His hands tightened around your wrists, almost painfully, as if to remind you that you were his. “I will find the ones who did this to you, and I will take their eyes for you.”

The words made your stomach churn. The anger, the rawness in his voice—it was like a wild thing, untamed and dangerous. But beneath it, you could hear the desperation, the hunger to make things right in his own twisted way. He was fixing things in his mind, as if it was so simple. As if all of it could be erased with promises and force.

Kim Namjoon POV

“A marriage license? All of a sudden?”

Yoongi’s tone came through the receiver, flat and unbothered. “Don’t act like you can’t procure a legal marriage license if you wanted, Joonie. You do have judges on your payroll,” he said, almost lazily, as though this wasn’t the kind of thing that should set off alarm bells. As if asking for a favor that would change the entire course of someone’s life was a casual thing.

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. He knew that tone. Yoongi was done. He was already over the conversation before it even started, and now Namjoon was being roped into cleaning up his mess. "You owe me one, hyung," Namjoon sighed, already thinking of which legal connections he could call in. Who did he know who could bypass the usual bureaucracy of marriage licenses, and who could expedite the paperwork without it being flagged?

Yoongi chuckled on the other end of the line, a sound that made Namjoon’s jaw clench. “I thought helping you make him disappear was payment enough for several favors?” he teased. There it was—the casual reminder of the past favor Namjoon had done for him. That particular favor had been a little more… permanent than he had bargained for.

Ah, yes. His little love’s ex-boyfriend, also known as the sperm donor of who he now considered as his own child. “I’ll have it delivered tomorrow.”

Namjoon sighed as he removed his glasses. His back was turned to his surprise guest as he took in the twinkling city lights from his office window. It was past midnight and yet, he was still as busy as ever because of family matters. It was too bad, though, because he was planning to come home early to the family he took for his own.

“Why are my brothers stressing me out?” Namjoon murmured to himself, sitting back in his chair, his fingers massaging his temples. He didn’t even realize how much tension had been building until he felt the muscles in his neck protest against the pressure.

Jung Hoseok chuckled softly, his form entirely at ease, as though he hadn’t disappeared for years and the world hadn’t been turned upside down in his absence. His posture was relaxed, leaning back slightly in the chair, with a sense of calm that only he could exude. Despite everything—the years, the distance, the mess he’d left behind—he carried himself with the same unbothered grace.

“What did he want, Joonie?” Hoseok asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, the kind of question that usually came with a hint of mischief or curiosity. His eyes, warm and inviting, locked onto Namjoon’s, as if he were trying to brush off the tension hanging in the air.

Namjoon, however, was not in the mood for any of Hoseok's usual lightheartedness. He tossed his glasses onto the desk with a frustrated sigh, his shoulders tight with the stress of being dragged into yet another one of Yoongi’s messes. He had tried to be patient, tried to play the role of the level-headed one, but his temper was running out.

“You know, just normal things like a fucking marriage license,” Namjoon snapped, his voice edged with frustration. “I swear, you all ask for the easiest things from me. Who do you think I am? You think I studied my ass off for years to become a lawyer for you all to ask me to bend the laws for you, and for fuck’s sake, I can no longer ignore this—whose child is that?!”

His finger shot out, pointing sharply at the bundle cradled against Hoseok’s chest.

The baby slept soundly, wrapped snugly in a soft, cream-colored blanket, oblivious to the storm swirling around the adults in the room. Hoseok’s hand gently brushed the child’s head, as if to reassure Namjoon that everything was just fine, as though nothing about this situation was worth stressing over.

“Language, Joonie,” Hoseok chided, his voice a low, soothing murmur, as if Namjoon’s outburst was the least important part of the situation. “Yoongi’s son is sleeping.”

[sailoryooons]

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards ch. 1 Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. 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. warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude), character death minors pls dni wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l ch. i play nice I prelude. strangers 1/2 l ch. ii I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood. 

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him. 

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off. 

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him. 

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.” 

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.” 

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens. 

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, vaguely familiar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it broke your heart, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look. 

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men. 

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal gash that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you.

Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression. 

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he’s wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care, however, so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly. 

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized. 

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Oh. So he's a fucking coward. And he wants to play games.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs. You think to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” 

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

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

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

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat the other morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really anymore as you’ve come to hate the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off. And you’re very much on edge lately.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of bay water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your shirt. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes fly open and feet move on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take it. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes Jungkook with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?” 

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. You recognize him. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it. 

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your fingernails dig into your sweaty palms when Lee slides his beady eyes to you.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the cutters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you snap off the end. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The lighter you pick up and flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing the metal on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly spits out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, the confidence it gave you. And that scares you. 

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened. 

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you run out of tears, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads don’t entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

.

.

.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

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taglist:

@viankiss @taegijns @polarnightmyg @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 1

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, threats w/ a knife, slight degradation, sexual favors, oral (f rec)

A.N. I'm soooo excited, this fic is 🔥 Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

Yoongi huffed and threw his eyeglasses onto the keyboard, rubbing his eyes so roughly he saw lights. It was no use; no matter how much he went over the evidence, again and again, he couldn’t change it.

“Hyung.”

He uncovered his eyes, only to be met with Taehyung’s sadness. His shoulders sagged from the sleepless nights ever since Jimin had gotten arrested, with dark circles bringing even more desolation to his otherwise heavenly features. He knew it wasn’t Taehyung’s intention, but the sight only unnerved Yoongi even more.

“Go home, get some sleep.”

Taehyung flinched, “But—”

“That’s an order, Officer.”

Taehyung stiffened and instantly bowed and showed his respects to his Superintendent before turning and leaving. Only then did Yoongi heave a deep breath and observe around him. It was weird seeing his department at the police station empty, without the officers at their desks taking calls or doing paperwork while on one of their 24-hour shifts. But they had all been shaken up, and so he had sent them home.

He was proud of his Division, and as their Chief, he couldn’t be more certain of everyone’s conduct and character. This included Jimin’s, and it was the reason why he was losing his mind over this case.

No matter how much he reviewed the footage and evidence, there was no mistake — Officer Jimin had seemingly shot his partner dead during an arrest gone wrong. This was a natural conclusion, judging by the body camera of the now deceased cop, Officer Junghee, that had captured Jimin nearing him with a fuming pistol in his hand. One that matched the ballistics report on Yoongi’s desk.

This was why the prosecution wanted to charge him with manslaughter at the very least, but Yoongi could not be convinced. The body camera also captured the panic in Officer Jimin’s voice and expression as he tried to save his downed partner. Yoongi didn’t care if that was Jimin’s gun or if it was fuming in his hand — he didn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t me!” The words Jimin shouted as he was arrested conveyed an absolute world of hurt and combined with the shock in Jimin’s eyes was seared into Yoongi’s retinas, causing him to dig the heel of his hands into his eyes again. But no matter how much he attempted to change the image, it wouldn’t. Jimin, his protégé, was still being handcuffed and taken away while begging, “I didn’t, you have to believe me! He put it in my hands! Hyung!”

Yoongi nudged his eyeglasses off the keyboard, locked his computer, and grabbed his coat. On long nights like these, he didn’t bother staying in uniform, only wearing black pants with a white shirt and his badge and holster belt. He made his way outside and got into his car, acknowledging whoever he met along the way. Temperatures were freezing, and his car didn’t start immediately. He reached for his nicotine gum while he waited for the car to warm up. When it finally started, so did the 3 AM news on the radio right as he left the parking lot.

“In a shocking revelation, an officer from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency shot his partner dead after pulling up to a suspicious vehicle in Dongjak District. The mounting evidence is undeniable, and the prosecution is discussing the potential penalty in such a case, with the spokesperson revealing in a press conference that while mistakes happen, justice needs to be served.”

Yoongi kept chewing and driving as the prosecutor’s voice echoed through the speakers. On the outside, Yoongi was the picture of calm, cool, and collected, but inside, he was fuming. He had spoken with the prosecutor many times, who preferred a clean-cut arrest to build his case to run for whatever political role he was after rather than fight for justice, as he claimed. Yoongi had always known that multiple interests abound in the justice system, but now he was starting to get pissed.

When he parked the car, he looked outside through the windshield, observing quietly as the people moved in and out of the Aether. The bouncers kept drunks at bay, and despite the booming music and the flashy lights, everything looked normal for a nightclub.

He removed his belt and badge, shoving them in the glove compartment so hard that something fell out. He reached to grab it from the floor, his frown instantly turning into a scowl. It was a photo of him hugging a woman, laughing, taken many years ago when they were still happy. When they were not even married yet, let alone divorced.

He got out of the car and ripped the photo into as many tiny pieces as possible, dropping the scraps in a trashcan along with his gum. Then he stopped in front of the bouncers with his hands in his pockets, saying six little special words.

“I want to see the boss.”

The first bouncer just scoffed a laugh and shook his head, but the second one eyed him from head to toe, “If you’re here to inspect, then you have to identify yourself first.”

“Not an inspection,” Yoongi said nonchalantly, glancing around. “It’s not an official visit.”

The smirking bouncer kept the flow of the people going in and out while the serious one, resembling the first almost to a T, pressed his earpiece further into his ear, waiting for orders. Yoongi had noticed the cameras already while he was walking up, and he wondered how long it would take for them to know exactly who he was and why he was there.

The serious bouncer moved closer to him, “Are you armed?”

“No.”

“I have to make sure.”

Yoongi glanced at him, then nodded, raising his hands as he let the man make sure he was unarmed. When the tall man rose from his knees after checking Yoongi’s ankles, he lowered his arms and waited for the goon to catch his breath.

“Alright, you can go in.”

He moved past the bouncers and into the entryway, but he hadn’t even made it to the coat check when someone approached him. Just by the light clothing, styled hair, and badge hanging on his belt, Yoongi could immediately tell that the man worked there.

“Follow me.”

Yoongi wasn’t there to sightsee, but he could appreciate the columns and marble structures and statues. Along with the paintings, velvet curtains, and carpets, it made the Aether look like a temple or divine abode of the Gods. The aesthetic intensified as they went up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to register much. In a second, he was walking into what appeared like an ordinary office — a pleasant space with a large desk at the center in front of huge dark windows that showed the lights flashing from the dance floor. He ignored the liquor table, the cabinets with files, and the black velvet sofas to the side. What his eyes were immediately drawn to was you — you who had pushed the large computer screen to the side so you could watch him come in. Your chin rested graciously on your intertwined fingers, with your elbows on the desk, eyes flickering with amusement, watching him through dark curled lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he had walked to your desk or that the door had closed behind him, but then you stood up, letting your delicate arms fall alongside your tight black dress. Your black, straight hair slid over your shoulders, framing the plunging cleavage of your dress, and when you smiled, he felt hot—molten hot.

“Welcome, Superintendent,” you smiled with a glint of amusement, your perfect teeth shining in the overhead light, and he clenched his fists behind his back. “Or should I say Yoongi? I was told you weren’t here in an official capacity, but…” You eyed him from head to toe, and he did his best to stay poised and calm. “You don’t look like you’re here to club.”

Yoongi was already sweating, not out of nervousness but because of you. Because you always eyed him like you owned him, always had a hint of mischief to every smile, and were always as elusive as a ghost. One he couldn’t catch and had grown tired of running after.

Still, hearing his name in your mouth for the first time… made him pull on the collar of his shirt, “Not here to party; I’m here on business.”

Your eyebrow twitched, and he looked at you seriously; you were a cunning fox of the worst kind. Worse than a weed, than a pest, than the bloody smoke still hanging in the air and making his fingers twitch. He had a simple goal, and he had to stay focused.

“Not an official visit, but you’re here on business…” you mused out loud then shrugged. “Soon, it will be four in the morning,” you revealed with a hint of disdain as you neared the table that held liquor in crystal decanters. “Surely, if you wanted to do something official, you’d wait at least three more hours?” You chuckled as you poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. “Want some?” He shook his head, and you shrugged again. You made your way back to your desk, but instead of going around it, you perched on the side of it, close enough for him to see your dress parting, giving hints of your upper thighs, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

Yoongi had nerves of steel; he ignored the lush skin of your thighs, the cleavage, the numbing sound reverberating through the walls, the dimmed lights, and the way your eyes seemed to challenge him with every blink.

He focused, “I want your help.”

Your eyes widened comically, the image of innocence and confusion, “Mine? What could such a powerful person need from me?”

Thankfully, your coy attitude irritated him and helped him concentrate. “I know the suspicious car they were chasing was one of yours.”

Your eyes widened even more, but this time, you brought your glass to your lips to hide a smile, “My, my, Officer. I know I have many cars, but to say I was a fugitive—”

“You know what I mean,” his jaw clenched, and you licked your lips.

“I don’t,” you could only smile, and he clenched his fists again. There it was. It pissed the fuck out of him. “Are you going to arrest me, Chief? Make good use of those deduction skills of yours and put pretty handcuffs around my wrists?”

He hated that his heart jumped in his chest as you whispered salaciously and leaned into him, shortening the distance between you. He hated how tempting you looked, and he hated the way your eyes fixed on his, as if you were ready to follow suit with your provocation. You were probably a tease like that with everyone all the time. It pissed him off even more.

He only blinked, ever the master of showing a relaxed demeanor, “I have no evidence to arrest you, nor am I here in that capacity.” 

It instantly hit him, as you straightened your back and finished the drink in your hand, that he was going to have to ask for your help. Not outsmart you, not convince you, not squabble with half facts and hunches — he needed your help and that meant he had to come down off his pedestal.

“My— An officer from my team will be sentenced for something he didn’t do. I’m out of options; I’ve hit a dead-end.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you put down the empty glass, “Don’t tell me — the system he holds and protects with his life won’t even try to prove his innocence.”

His jaw clenched; he hated that you weren’t completely wrong. “I’m trying to prove his innocence.”

The corners of your mouth twitched in a smile. “What makes you think I can help?”

He kept his mouth closed for a thoughtful moment. There was no use in accusing you again. Your smile wasn’t sly, so he decided to go for it. “You’re one of the biggest players.”

“Me?” You acted surprised, “I just own a few businesses here and there…”

“They say you’re the one to contact for information.” You tilted your head, and he insisted, “Even if that wasn’t your car, you’d know about it because it was on your turf. You’re you. I just know you know something that can help us solve this.”

That answer seemed to satisfy you because your lips and eyes revealed a small yet genuine smile that caught his breath. It made him realize he was leaning towards you now, exposing himself like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. Not when you looked at him like that, feeding into his hope.

“Say I do,” you started, eyes fixed on his. “Say I have evidence that could exonerate Officer Park.” He snapped straight; he had never told you the name of the Officer, and the media didn’t know it either. Yet what got him were your words, “Why would I help you?”

He clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked. He just about growled with the way irritation mixed with his desperation, making him reel.

“Come on, Chief. Talk to me,” you pressed, wanting him to push through both the shock and the stick up his ass. “You must be desperate enough if you’re asking for my help, and I’m not denying it. I’m saying I might have what you need. What would you do to save an innocent from prison for life or worse?”

He didn’t think, “You have it? Something that could undeniably prove his innocence?”

He knew before he was done asking that it was impossible and that he was acting crazy. Yet, you leaned into him, meeting him halfway, your breath hitting his chin, “In those exact words? I do.” You sat back and let your words sink in, not knowing they gave him a full-body shudder. He always knew you were powerful and had your ways, but holy shit— “What do you have that I want?”

He opened his mouth but instantly closed it. Objectively, he had nothing. But maybe there was something he could do. First, though, he needed to know it was real. “What evidence do you have? Show it to me—”

“Hmmm, no,” you pressed your lips and twisted your nose, displeased. “That’s not how this works. This is based on trust. Besides, you don’t seem to have anything to offer.”

For a split second, he wondered if you were bullshitting him, but he honestly didn’t care. He had to do something. “You want something concrete for a maybe?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” your tone hardened as your expression lost humor.

“Alright, name it. Tell me what is worth your help.”

His tone was soft, and it worked to soothe you. His dark eyes helped; there was so much willingness in them, and you liked that. The man there asking for your help to correct an injustice was the kind of man you were looking for.

“Since you asked,” you cheekily started, pulling your hair behind your shoulders. “I want three things.” He didn’t even blink, so you continued, “The first is a favor. Of my choice and at my discretion whenever I shall need it. The second is for you to get on your knees. And the third is for you to eat.”

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

“You— Do you hear what you’re asking?”

He sounded breathless and could feel the heat on his cheeks, which was not ideal. He almost managed to step back, but a quirk of your eyebrow kept him still — he needed that evidence.

“Oh my, Chief Min. Are you getting heated at the thought of a couple of favors?” He scoffed, and you continued your tease, “Or is it the knees? Too proud to beg?”

“No, not too proud,” he mumbled between teeth. He was ready to kneel on the floor and beg, and the heat rising in his neck told him the rest wasn’t a problem either. And that was the problem. “The favor—” He cleared his throat, scratching it, “What is the favor?”

“I don’t know yet,” you shrugged, and it seemed to him like it didn’t matter. He knew that couldn’t be true, that had to be what you were really after — something specific from the Superintendent of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. And yet your eyes were shining in such a way that he almost forgot who you were. Almost.

“Something illegal, no doubt.”

You sighed and he took the moment to let the anger cool him — you were a criminal about to use his good intentions to surely accomplish something even worse. Instead of cooling him, irritation made him snap his knuckles and shift on his feet.

“I don’t know what it is, but it shouldn’t matter,” you said more coldly, squinting your eyes. “What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

There was a hint of impatience in your tone that only riled him up more. He turned to you, “What’s stopping me from just—”

“You’re not that stupid,” you interrupted, raising your chin. His eyes noticed the surveillance cameras and you smirked, “They’re not who you should be concerned about.”

Your smile was predatory but he scoffed. You didn’t need to threaten him, and he didn’t like the coercion. He refused to look at you for a moment, giving you the impression that he was weighing his options. In reality, he was figuring out what angered him more — the fact that he was about to make a deal with a devil like you, or that he was that turned on from it.

You huffed and got off the desk, your heels clicking on the floor like a timer had just gone off. “Never mind—”

He grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away, and in a second, something sharp was poking his lower stomach. You both froze in place, your gaze angry and fixed on his, while his heart raced inside his chest. He didn’t let go of your arm, and you didn’t lower your knife.

“I never heard a yes from those pretty lips, so…” you spoke quietly, then pressed the blade harder. “Hands off.”

He knew you could put your money where your mouth was, and that if you wanted to kill him and get rid of him, you would. Yet, his grip didn’t lessen as he observed you. He was still trying to figure things out — not what to do, but you. He hated you objectively; you represented everything wrong with the world. Jimin was innocent; you shouldn’t be bargaining for his life, you should do the right thing. But you weren’t, you wanted to play with fire. Maybe even to get burned.

“What is it…” he started quietly, still eying your angry eyes. “Is it the risk? The humiliation? The footage for blackmailing me later? The power over a figure of authority?”

You scoffed, leaning in to answer just as quietly, “No risk, Chief. The footage might be insurance, but you’re a man of your word. No power over you because you’ll be doing it willingly. And no humiliation,” you chuckled. “It’s a privilege to eat at this table. Although…” You looked down, then smirked. “I can play if that’s what you like.”

He looked away from your eyes for the first time and almost flinched; his pants had a tent. He couldn’t even think; why was his body betraying him like this? He tried pulling away and letting you go, but you pressed the tip of your knife harder.

“Nuh-uh,” you whispered, taking a deep breath a little closer to his neck. “I heard the missus left cause you couldn’t get it up, but won’t you look at that—” Your tone was sly, and he gripped your arm harder in retaliation. You laughed, “I guess she just didn’t know how to play. Or maybe you like this,” your voice lowered wantonly, and a shiver ran up his spine as though he was starting to attune to it. “Like not having a choice, to be in danger, to be forced to do something reprehensible.”

He had to lick his lips because for a second he thought he was drooling, “I have a choice.”

You smiled and his cock twitched, “Then choose.”

He eyed your smile and leaned into you, but you chuckled and playfully pressed the tip of the knife to impose distance, ignoring the red droplets tainting the fabric.

“On your knees, Chief.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he pulled you by the arm, disregarding the blade, so you’d walk back until the back of your thighs hit the desk. Then, he gripped your hips and helped you on the desk, fisting your dress in the same movement to get it out of the way as he kneeled between your legs. Your knife had slipped from your hand as you rested them on the desk for support, and you didn’t think to pick it back up. You wanted him to eat you and mean it, but he was going above and beyond — nuzzling your thighs and inhaling your scent, frantically fighting with your dress, and trying to pry your legs further apart so he could have access.

When his nose poked your clit, you jumped in place, and his fingers dug into your hips, even through the fabric of the dress. Just looking at the way he was fighting to get his mouth on you was positively melting you, but you wanted it to actually happen.

“Slide them down,” you breathed after he nuzzled and licked your core through your panties enough times to cover you with goosebumps.

He immediately obliged, and you shimmied to help him get rid of them. He threw them on the floor, then gripped your legs apart before giving you a look that seared you in place. You didn’t know what it was, but you were living for it, and the excitement burned your gut. The Superintendent looked like a piece of forbidden heaven between your thighs; who knew he’d have you melting like this just at the hint of doing what you asked?

A smirk spread on your lips as he kept struggling with your dress, until suddenly — rip. He bunched the fabric and pulled it, causing the slit that revealed your thigh to rip, and you chuckled. You liked that energy, that hunger; the way he was willing to destroy to have his way. Instantly, he had free leeway to uncover your core and press his mouth, rolling his tongue all over your slick folds.

You jolted with a sigh, gripping his hair at the back of his head. The more he laved his tongue over your slit to taste you, the more you had the urge to move, but you stayed still. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed every second of his discovery, from his licks to his tasting and humming. You heaved the breath you were holding when he nibbled your heat right before finding your clit to suckle, and your voice finally came out. You could almost laugh at how easily he had found his way, but your mind wasn’t there. While he found his rhythm, you guided him with expressive sighs, grazing your acrylic nails over his scalp without ever forcing him. You wouldn’t; his hunger was part of the power trip. Chief Min would eat you, give you what you wanted, and service you because you had that much power. You could bring someone like him to his knees. He liked it.

You suddenly pulled on his hair so he’d look up at you, and he did, not even bothering with a quizzical look. You bit your lip to stop a smile and relented your grip, and he looked down for a second. It was all it took for him to get back to it, and you let your head fall back with a sigh — case in point.

“The things you do for duty, Chief…”

His tongue kept laving over you as if you were desert, focused, regardless of your taunt. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten where he was or why because his hands started gently exploring your spread thighs. His fingers pressed to your curves and didn’t stop even when he felt the garter that held the knife you had used on him. Instead, he pulled on it, making it snap against your thigh, ripping a stronger moan from you. 

It was then he realized you needed something stronger, so he pressed his face harder against your cunt, latched onto your clit, and started rutting into you. You were surprised but instantly melted, and your fingers curved around his hair. The grind of his lips pressing into you while his mouth held the suction was already maddening, but the thrumming of his tongue on your clit was the cherry on top. You didn’t have time to make it a challenge, or maybe you didn’t want to; his rhythm was perfect against your heat, and you moaned when it intensified. The strumming was precise and maddening, each tap firm and steady, giving you enough time to despair for the next one and moan when it came, leaving you to anticipate what would come next. 

Your hips started moving on their own, and that was when you knew you had let go. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t doing it just like you wanted, or that you weren’t rolling into his face to feel him harder, forcing him to dig his long fingers into the flesh of your hips as he drank the slick melting out of you. The very sounds of his humming and licking drove the blood to your cheeks and emboldened your hips, messily humping against his mouth. You could feel the edge right before you, and every time you ground on his mouth, you thought that would be it.

“Fuck,” you groaned between teeth, looking down to find burning brown eyes drinking you more greedily than his hot mouth. He wasn’t stopping you or holding you back, he was letting you fuck his mouth however you wanted, and it popped you. 

You let your head fall back and pressed his face to your cunt, your moans pitching higher when he sucked harder, as if to pull all the pleasure out of you like it was venom. He rode your climax with you, gripping your trembling legs around him as though he wished you’d smother him, and finally, you looked down. Your walls were still throbbing in the aftershocks when he dragged his tongue across you slowly, and you groaned through a smirk, then pulled him away by the hair.

“Easy there,” you smiled and let your legs down.

You quickly pulled your dress down to cover you again while your other hand raked through your long hair, putting it in place. He rose slowly to his feet with his eyes on you, and you didn’t even try hiding your heaving chest; he could see it well with such an observant gaze. His eyes were so intense that you shuddered and bit your lip, but avoiding them only landed your own on his evident arousal, and you smirked.

Looking up, for a moment, your taunt got caught in your throat. Min Yoongi looked the absolute best covered in your cum from nose to chin — deliciously ravenous.

You licked your lips, raising your hand to his face but stopping before you touched him. He mimicked you, his pink tongue collecting your slick over his lips while he focused on yours. Still, when your hand moved down, so did his eyes. You smirked, dodging his erection at the last second to hide your hand under your dress.

You hummed, closing your eyes as your fingers collected your wetness mixed with his saliva, and then brought them straight to your mouth. You licked them first, tasting what he did before putting them in your mouth and sucking. 

You clenched, knitting your eyebrows as you realized how turned on you were. You were throbbing and craving something to push into you and fuck you senseless, and opening your eyes, you saw the same urge staring right back at you.

Your fingers left your mouth with a pop, and then you smiled, shaking your head, “Should have asked for a good fuck too.”

His dark eyes stayed on yours for a moment, and even when he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, they remained on yours. It was almost a taunt, and you grinned; you loved a good challenge, and even more the kind of fucking that lustful gaze promised. But you knew the worth of asking, and you were not going to come out losing.

“Maybe next time.”

[wooataes]

Bangtan’s Receptionist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.

Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!

- Tae 🥰💜✨

Request to join my taglist here!

Masterlist

Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.

You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.

“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.

“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”

“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.

After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.

“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.

“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”

You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”

You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.

“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”

“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”

“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”

“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.

“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.

“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.

“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.

“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.

“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”

“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”

“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.

“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”

Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.

“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”

Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.

“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”

“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”

“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.

“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.

A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.

“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”

“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.

“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.

It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.

[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 |

[yuyu1024]

Escape

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞 smut/angst, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kink, unprotected sex, Smoking, jealousy, insecurity, mention of weight&food/eating, oral (m/f receiving), mention of blood/violence

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 5.8k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: continuation of Prisoner.

I hope this is a good part 2. 🙏🏻 took me a while coz idk if i should or not. 😅 sorry guys.

(This may continue a bit more...? But please be patient 🙏🏻 as I do have work & usually I try to write before i sleep but lately i've beeen so tired and drained that I cant even function 😅)

***

Another day, another event to go to. You are wearing your best 'pretend' smile. The smile you have practiced for months, to be your default expression whenever you meet anyone in any formal event. It's not that your trying to be fake. You just want to represent your husband the best that you can. And being a shy person, this is what you can do to help yourself.

Although, you wish, that even just one time, Yoongi would show up to these events with you.

At the first month of your marriage, he did. He did that to introduce you to everybody. You could still remember how you two were holding hands and always together. Those were the days when you have spent so much time with him.

But... Now, it's just always you. Alone. Amongst everyone in the whole place, you are the only one who always arrives with no partner.

"Excuse me?"

You twirl around and find the prettiest girl you think you have ever seen in your life. She looks like a goddess.

"Ahm, yes?" Your voice sounded so weak. You haven't said a word in the last hour.

"You are the only one wearing a corsage with a hint of lilac flowers in it... I'm guessing... you are Yoongi's wife?" She asks

"Ah, yes. I am." You look down at the flower pinned on your chest

She's smiling at you. She looks sort of happy to see you. "Finally... I've met you."

You haven't said a word. You are not sure how to approach this. You have no idea who she is and why is she approaching you. Plus, You are sort of intimidated by her. She is a beautiful, a sophisticated woman. She have this energy from her that says she is different than anyone else. You could feel your difference with her. Though you are covered with all highend brands of clothing and accessories. You can still see it.

"Oh, sorry... if I'm invading your personal time..." she says, "I am a friend of Yoongi... well... an old friend... from University" she explains. "Sarang."

"Oh." You smile and bow. "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N... I'm sorry... I've not met any of his friends yet so...I didn't know..."

"It's fine. I understand."

She looks like she came from a regal family, the same level as Yoongi. Also, her beauty.... takes your breathe away. She remind you of how you reacted the first time you saw Yoongi. In awe.

"Thank you for coming here also..." she says as she walks you around the gallery. "I hope you find something to your liking here that... would be a part of your home or either a gift to anyone you love."

As you two talk more, you learned that she's the one that threw this charity event. She gathered all these arts from known artists, to auction. She says that 100% of the earnings from it will go to the children's hospital that she have been donating ever since.

You have just met her and you are already at amazed by her. Not by just her prominent looks but also the way she talks and speaks her mind is very inspiring and uplifting. Because of her words you find it easy buying two items in the collection. You know all of the money will go and be used for something good.

You chose the items, the two that caught your attention the moment you entered the gallery. Both are paintings of a beautiful flowerfield which reminds you of your past. The field where you would always go with your friends and have picnic during summer break.

Such beautiful memory that you wish you could've not taken for granted. You wish you could re-live those moments again. And the paintings, those paintings you chose might go well in your own study room.

"It's nice meeting you..." she says, cutting you from reminiscencing your past

"Thank you too for inviting us.. though... my husband couldn't come..."

She smiles, lips pressed together. "He hasn't changed at all. Not very social and just focused on just working..."

Hmm.. The way she talks, the way she describes your husband is very detailed. She seem to know him pretty well. 'They are friends' you say to yourself but then at the back of your mind, a thought, just a tiny thought about him and her, is peaking through.

'Is she an ex of his?'

'If not an ex... probably... someone who liked him?'

I know, this is no place nor time to think about these but you can't help it.

Look at her and then you look at yourself. You two are totally opposites. From status to looks. And probably from personaly to intelligence. She is more than you. She is perfect. You think that he and Yoongi might or will get along more than you and him.

"Ahm... I ahm..." you start to feel uncomfortable with all of your self pity thoughts. You need to get a hold of yourself. "Sorry... I'll... I'll just go to the bar and have some drink..." you say as you clutch on to your dress.

"Oh. Okay." Sarang says. "You want me to accompany you...?"

You shake your head, "No... thank you... don't mind me... please go ahead and tour the rest of the guest." You say pointing at the newly arrived guests.

You turn around immediately before she could response again.

This is weird. You're not sure why you suddenly have the urge to drink. Even though you don't drink. Also because, you can't. Literally, can't.

You only drink red wine when you are offered to drink, by Yoongi of course. It's only when he asks you to join him during nights when he needs company or if you two are to discuss things about the family.

You don't drink also because you are a lightweight. You get tipsy and red easily. One time when you had more than three glasses of red with your husband, you instantly changed personality. You have no idea how and what changed besides the stories that your maid said the day after which were embarassing.

You have no recollection of anything besides the fact that you were on the sofa, inside Yoongi's home office, butt naked and only have Yoongi's blazer on you.

"Mrs. Min, what can I get you?" The cute guy behind the bar asks as you reach your destination.

"How... do you know who I am?"

He smiles, "We had the lists of the guests coming tonight... with photos." He pours water into a glass

"With details...? who can and cannot drink... I suppose?"

He nods. "Your husband noted... to not serve any alcohol to you Miss."

"Even... I want to? Or... pay?"

"I'm sorry Miss..." he says, "If you like we can offer you our non-alcohol champagne?"

You sigh heavily. You badly want to drink. Even just one glass to calm yourself. But...you can't. Yoongi have rules and you cannot avoid and disobey them.

He does give you the freedom to do whatever you want but when it comes to what not to do or what he likes, he have a handful.

1. Don't cut your hair short

2. Don't drink when he's not present nor ordered by him

3. Don't leave the house without atleast one body guard

4. Don't wear perfume (he gets dizzy)

5. Use the safeword during sex

And etc.

The rules are quite simple. Nothing to weird nor to hard to follow. It's just you compromising. And also, you do have a hard time saying no to Him.

"Thanks." You mumble, sighing as you take the glass of water and walk away from the bar.

After figuring out you can't drink to calm yourself, you decide to just go somewhere outside, away from the crowd and peaceful to get fresh air. Lucky you, you found an exit that leads you to the garden.

As time have gone by, you're not sure how long have you been there, staring at the fountain, the flowers and even starring down at your feet every now and then. You thought being out here will leave your head empty. Not worrying about anything. But then you'd catch yourself pouting and comparing yourself to all the ladies you have seen in the event, especially the last person you have talked to.

Your self pity and low self-esteem is thriving today than usual. Is it the lack of sleep? Or because of the one guy from earlier giving you a judging look that made you regret wearing the dress you picked? What happened?

These thoughts are not very helpful. Especially lately, well probably more on daily basis, you do wonder why Yoongi chose you. To marry.

They've said, more particularly his parents said, that he didn't like the ones they suggested for him; so he decided to pick you. To marry you instead of those women who is on the same level as him or close to his family's wealth.

Odd isn't it? Why would someone like him, an elite bachelor, pick a girl from a lower class family to marry? What did he see in you? What made him randomly pick you? You are not special, inexperience about life and not alluring as the other girls in his world. What did he saw? How did he even saw you? You were sure you two never met before. So did he hire someone to find a daughter from a poor family or what?

Instead of clearing your mind, you suddenly had these outburst of questions.

"What are you doing here?"

Your eyes widens after hearing a familiar voice. You didn't dare to speak. You just slowly turn your upper body around to see him, walking slowly towards you.

He's wearing a tuxedo. His hair is slightly slicked back and his scar. His beautiful scar. It's him.

You can't believe what you are seeing. He's really here. Why? He's been away for a week because of work and when did he came back?

"Y-yoongi..." you mumble, standing up

"I asked you..." he says as he stands right in front of you. Then you see his eyes darts down at your glass of water, sitting beside you. "Your bodyguard said... you asked for a drink." He looks back at you, his expression is so serious.

"I ahm... sorry..." you lower your gaze.

"You know... you can't drink."

"I'm sorry..." you whisper softly

"Let her have fun." A woman's voice says. "She just wants to have a glass of wine. It won't hurt."

Slowly raising your eyes, you see her, Sarang, standing from afar from you and Yoongi.

Her stance at this moment is unidentical to her persona earlier. It feels like she is a completely different person, though her appearance is the same. Something shifted.

"She did an amazing job.. representing you earlier." She adds

Your eyes then goes to Yoongi. You want to see his reaction to the angelic woman speaking. You are curious. No one talks to him directly like that, blunt and straight forward, even you.

Sarang is brave to talk casually to him.

"Ready the car..." Yoongi finally speaks after a monent of silence. Ordering one of his men to move.

That was it?

"I'll return the items. Keep the money. I don't care." He says while he's looking at you, straight into your eyes. Though you know, even his eyes are on you, he's not actually speaking to you.

"Yoongi le---" she tries to speak again but he didn't allowed it.

Yoongi just slightly turned his head to give her a side eye. He is not pleased. "My wife and I are leaving..." and then takes your hand to hold onto. "Let's go home..." he says that only you can hear.

"Ahm...ahh... okay." You say, lost by the sudden fierceness from him

***

"Get in." He orders you

Carefully climbing in the car, you move to the other side making sure there is a space betweem you two.

"Home please." Yoongi says to his driver as he shuts the door.

"Sir." The man answers, nodding and then pushes a button that closes the opening between the driver to the passenger seat of the car.

We are now isolated.

He looks so tired. Looks like he just came back and went straight to event to pick you up.

"I have my driver with me... you could've rested at home." You say

He sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm fine."

Did he purposely pick you up because he wants to see you? Did he missed you while he was away for a week?

Your mind is filled with questions and curiosity but you cannot dream of these questions to be real. You have to remember, he just married you because he have no other choice. There is no love in between you two. You are married by paper only that is worth a lot of money. Everything you are doing for him is to repay all of his kindness to you and your family.

This is all just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy.

"Come closer..." he softly says. His eyes are still shut but his arm is arching, gesturing for me to take place in then. "Y/n..." he opens his eyes, calling my name. You scoot over his side. He immediately puts his arm around you, making sure you are close. "You're shaking..." he utters as he goes back to closing his eyes, resting his head back. "You're almost naked with that dress of yours..."

"Sorry..." you say looking down at your knotted fingers. "I thought it will look good....that's why I wore it."

He sighs. "You do look good..." then he shifts in his position and makes sure you're looking back at him. Then he starts leans in, to kiss you.

"Wait..."

He pauses, confused by your reaction. You have never denied his kiss before.

"I'm sorry..."

"What for?" He asks

"Well..." you look to the front, where the driver is. "Do we just kiss or..." you whisper

Yoongi didn't expect your question which made him smile. "It depends." He is looking straight into your eyes, your face are just inches away.

"He might hear us..." you whisper

"I don't fucking care." He moves forward and finally catches your lips.

***

After travelling for almost half an hour, you finally reach home.

"Welcome home, Miss..." The maid greets the second you slide out of the car. she then sees Yoongi, coming out from the other side of the car. "Master!" She bows again. "Welcome..."

They are suprised to see him. They didn't expect him to arrive with you. Looks like none of them knew he went to pick you up.

"Do we have anything to eat?" You softly ask the maid, then you realized that it's already late and that they have to rest too. "Oh... Sorry... never mind... you may go and rest." You give her a faint smile.

Then slowly walking towards the elevator, you could see your husband's reflection through the glass doors. He is busy already with his phone.

"Y/n..."

You glance up, peaking through the reflection. He is walking towards you. So you wirl around and waited for him to stand in front of you.

"Ask your assistant to remove all charities or event under the Lee's tomorrow. Even parties." He says as he undo his bow tie. "And... to not accept any invitation from them...again"

"Why?"

He didn't answer. No answer means he's serious.

"Okay..." You just answer before turning your back at him again.

Thinking about what you are in his world is heart breaking in a way. You are nothing but someone he owns. You just go with the flow of his world.

Yes you do had an idea what you've signed up for but its still shocking nonetheless how everything is unfolding and is doing.

"Aren't you getting in?"

You look up and see that he is in the elevator already, waiting.

"S-sorry..." you say before entering. You try your best to not make eye contact with him.

After both of you settled in, the maid follows and taps on level 3. That is where both your rooms are.

Oddly, Yoongi taps on the Upper ground after her. "Can you please cook something light before you leave? My wife needs to eat." He orders

"Yes, Master." She answers just in time when the elevator stops on UG.

"We'll both be down after we shower and get rested a bit."

"Understood, Master." She exists the elevator, bows and immediately walks off.

'My wife'. It is the second time he said that today. He never says that.

"Don't skip meals." He mumbles as the door closes

You didn't answer. You didn't mean to skip a meal or two today. And maybe a few days before too. You were nervous. One main reason is the dress you're wearing right now is very revealing. A satin black backless maxi dress. You wanted be perfect in the dress thats why, even though you know it's not achievable.

*pings*

The elevator door opens on level 3. You step out and about to turn to your wing when you hear him call your name again.

"Where are you going?" He asks

"T-to my room..." you sound so weak, "To shower..."

"Shower here." He says, suggesting the shower in his wing. Meaning in his room. Meaning his bathroom.

"Hmm?" You are lost in translation. Why is he asking you to shower there all of a sudden.

"To my room." And then he undo the first two buttons of his shirt.

"W-what? Why?"

He didn't say another word. He just continued to walk off towards his room leaving you.

"W-wait..." You take two steps forward but then stops.

"Y/N...." you hear the heels of his shoes stop hitting the marbled floor. His back is facing you. "I said, shower here. I didn't ask you to decide." he then turns around and you see his white top basically open now. "Will you go and shower with me or do you want me to peel that dress off you and carry you to my room?"

Flusttered by his remark, you just released an unsolicited shaky breathing. "Ahm... yes... I'm... I'm coming..."

***

[Flashback to Yoongi's side]

(Earlier... as soon as Yoongi arrived at the charity event)

Some of the people in the event went silent for a few seconds the moment they saw you enter the building. They all didn't expect you to show up since your wife was already present. But of course, they still greeted you with a smile and tried to make small talks. They want to be on your good side. They know what you are capable off. What power you hold in this world.

However, you don't care about these fuckers. You dropped by because you received a call from your wife's bodyguard that Y/N is not looking okay.

"Where is she?" You ask the man standing behind you.

"She just left the bar, Sir. And went out to the garden." He reply.

"I see."

One step, you just took one step and somebody already stands in your way to your wife.

"Look who's here."

"Sarang." You say her name, bitterly. You are not expecting her to be here.

"You have been ignoring my invites for quite some time now... I thought, helping others is one of your goals in life that's why you work 24/7?"

"I thought this event was by the Lee's?" You hiss at your male assistant.

"It is, Sir. By--"

"Lee Do-Hyun..." she cuts off the assistant. "My husband..." she proudly says. "Aww.. That kind a... hurts my feelings...that... you have no idea I got married..."

"I don't keep tab on people who's not important to me."

She scoffs but she sounded a bit insulted and her ego got hurt. But she's good at pretending that it didn't bothered her. "You say that now...but a few years ago... I was your muse..." she tries to move closer to you but your body guards stands in between quickly.

"Was." You look away from her and try to search for your wife through the window not far away from where you stand. "My mistake for socializing to a liar, back stabbing... leech like you." You say, then giving her a side eye. "I wish your husband good fortune... or that he loves spoiling you... or esle... he'll found out his wife's true color..."

You're about to walk away, again, but this bitch still wants to talk to you.

"You think... she'll not get tired of you? Of you controlling her? Especially getting married with you... with no love at all?" She snorts a laugh again. "Or maybe... she will not..." she mumbles under her breathe, "Now... It figures... why you picked someone from a low class family... someone with no choice but to stay with you because her family needs your money. I see..." she laughs again, "poor girl... if I were her, I would milk you all of your money so it will be worth it... after all she married a controlling, dominant, and a freaky person like you."

You know Y/N is not like her. She is a nice person. She's not into money like this bitch is. However, you do think about how Y/N thinks about you and her marriage to you.

You admit that you are very controlling when it comes to her. It is one of your negative trait that you cannot put away. It comes natural with you because of the life you have been brought up and your business. You want things to happen in your way and you are also possessive. You do try to controll it when it comes to her but you are not sure if you are doing it right.

Well how could you know, you never talk about it. Even with your wife. You never asked about her feelings and opinions.

"Watch your mouth." You mumble. "You might think you know me from the years we've been together. But you haven't seen half of what I can and would do... if anyone picks a fight with me.." you glare at her. "Consider this a warning."

[End of flashback from Yoongi's side]

*************

"Miss..."

Slowly opening your eyes, your eyes carefully adjusted to the light. You could see the ray of sunshine peaking through your dark thick curtains.

"Miss..."

You turn your head to the side and see your maid bowing.

"It's noon Miss..."

"Oh."

It has been a quite a few days now, since you start waking up this late. You are usually up early. You are a morning person. You also do jogs or walks around the property and sometimes go to the home gym to move, always. But something shifted in your routines.

You are tired, less motivated and no will to get up your bed.

"I think we need to call the family doctor now, Miss." The maid suggested. "You've lost a bit of weight and you look pale."

"I'm fine." You say as you push your duvet off your body and slide down off your bed. "I'll take a quick bath..." you mumble

"Understood." She is ready to come along with you.

"No... I'm fine... I'll just go alone... just prepare food for me please."

"But... Miss..." she usually prepares your bath and always stays with you there. After the little accident you had a year ago when you first experience a hot bath on the tub. You fainted because you fell asleep. Too much enjoyment and you forgot it is not good to stay long in there.

"I'll be fine." You smile and requested for her to leave

"Okay Miss... but... I will be back after half an hour to check."

"Sure."

You slept last night, wearing your silk robe and your fancy cream nightgown, his favorite. You were expecting Yoongi to come home last night as per usual schedule. But he didn't. He didn't even informed the staff that he'll not be home for a longer period.

What happened? You don't know.

The last time you talked to him was the night he asked you to come to his room and shower with him.

Everything that night was magical. For you atleast. But then you ruined it.

When you both entered his dark room, he immediately clung onto you. He held you like everything depends on it. It was more intemate and hungry than the usual and you liked it for some reason. After all the self doubt and insecurity you felt in the party, the intemacy made you feel more than what you feel.

And when he peeled off your dress from your body, you didn't expected him to go down on his knees and lick your soul out of your body. His tongue did more than you know he could do. It brought you to another level of high. And you didn't know you could screech like an animal because of it. He really made sure you are on cloud nine or even beyond that.

"Fuck me... please..." you begged him after you knees weakened and fall down the floor where he is.

"No." He said. He was sturn. "No request for tonight." He said and then he positioned you underneath him where he could properly see you crumble because of him.

"Y-yoongi... please.... I need... I want to come..." you begged

He brought you to cloud nine but then hold onto your pearls when you were about to orgasm.

"I'm punishing you right now..." he said as he lowers down and starts to run his tongue from your chest up. "Next time... don't wear any sort of revealing clothes...when I'm not around.. do you understand that Y/N?"

"Y-yes..."

"Another rule to add... are you okay with that?" He hummed the last words on your ears before he let both his hands squeeze your breast. "Answer me..."

"I don't... mind..." you were squearming underneath him. He was playing your nipples then. "I... I don't mind... Yoongi..." you repeated, pleading.

His punishment continued for another few minutes. It was too much. You were struggling catching your bliss but he's playing you. However, you are patient. You know his kinks and you know what he wants and so you do whatever and accept whatever. Coz you know it is from him.

"Scream my name." He grunted as he pounds you with no mercy.

You were holding on to his massive bookshelf on the wall, your legs were lifted and hanging over his forearm whilst he was thrusting deep in you. You were getting hurt from your back hitting the shelves but it didn't matter. You don't know why but for some reason you can endure everything just for Yoongi. Even pain.

"Nnggghhaaa..." you threw your arms around his neck as he went faster. "Please!" You cry on his neck. "Aaaahhh!!" You screamed the orgasm you have been keeping for a while. You felt relieved and content.

And as you two were catching your breath. You uttered words that surprised the both of you. You said 'I love you' to Yoongi.

It should not be a surprise. You two are married right. However since yours are different from others, those words were never said or mentioned ever after the wedding. It is like a forebidden phrase though there are no rule about it. It's like an unspoken deal that no one says those words since THIS.. YOU TWO... is just a fantasy. You two got together with no love. It is not real. You are just one of his property.

And so, after that night. That magical night for you ended up into this cold, quiet and empty prison. Again. You are back to nothing.

You thought you are on a journey escaping that confinement. You thought that something is going to change. You thought... that you were wrong about him. But who are you kidding? You were just having sex like you used to. It is nothing special. It is the same crap. So you saying you love him is... worthless.

"Did I even mean it?" You ask yourself as you lay down in your hot bath. "I said it... after sex.." you are trying to understand how those words slipped out of your lips. If it all just happened because of such high from the sex.

You can clearly remember how you said it. You paused, looked into his eyes and carefully said it. You know you said it with the intent for him to hear it but when you saw his reaction. It made you realize what a big mistake it was.

"Am I having feelings for him?" You mumble as you lower yourself more into the water. "I should not right?"

You know the answer to your own quesion. Look at him even ignoring you for almost two weeks now. Who are you even kidding thinking it will have an effect on him?

After the 'I love you' incident, He eat dinners without you or he let you eat first before he comes out of his home office. And then when he leaves, he does not inform you now. You just get the news of him flying off somewhere from your maid. Even his men are being cautious with you. He must've ordered them to be distant but at the same time protect you.

How funny that these are his responses to you. You know you deserve it but you're a little bit hurt, your not going to lie.

"Who am I for him to love?" You sigh. "Maybe... I should just prepare myself for the ending of this fantasy..."

*********

"Master." The maids bows as they suddenly sees Yoongi enter the main entrance while they are all cleaning.

Yoongi have not been home for a while. He has been... busy.

"Give them all my clothes." He says to his right hand man. "Sorry if it's quite a lot today." He then says to the maids as he removes his black coat revealing his white button up shirt, stained with blood. A lot of it. No one reacted to the visual that is shown. All the staff are used to it. They know how his world is.

"Where is she?" He asks as he loosen up his tie

All the maids in the corredor suddenly turn heads to the youngest one at the end of the line. She is Y/N personal maid.

"Master." She steps forwards and bows again. "Miss is in her bath."

Yoongi frowns. "Alone?"

"Ahm..." she suddenly stutters. "Sorry, Master! She... Miss wanted to... alone... but I told her after half an hour I will go back."

"How long has she been there?" He then throws his tie on the ground.

"Twenty."

"Okay." He takes a deep breathe and tries to collect himself. "Just go and be on standby in her room. She can't stay any longer."

"Okay, Master." She bows again and briskfully walk back to Y/N wing.

"Are you not going to... visit her Sir?" His male right hand asks. "She have been messaging you since..." he pauses for a bit. "And calling too."

He didn't answer. "Ready my bath please." He orders and just continue walking his way to his room.

"Understood." The man replies

"She can't see me like this." Yoongi mumbles as he walks

"I see..." his right hand man smiles at his master's response.

"Why are you smiling?" Yoongi asks, one eyebrow up.

"Nothing, Sir."

"Just spit it out."

The right man, Mr. Kim have been Yoongi's right hand man ever since he was in his teens. Mr. Kim saw him grew up and be the man that he is now. And for sure, if something changed he would be the first one to notice

And now, the tiny changes in Yoongi's mood and decisions, He might not know or see it but it is obvious for Mr. Kim. He knows it is something about his wife.

"2nd week of your marriage, Sir. She saw you coming home with a bloody lip and injured knuckles. You said you don't give a damn if she sees you looking like a murderer."

"So? What's your point?"

"It's just lately...."

Yoongi pauses and turns around to see Mr. Kim, wearing a smile.

"What are you implying? Just... say it."

Mr. Kim bows and says, "Nothing Sir."

"Hmmm..." rolling his eyes, he continued to walk.

*****

"Miss..." your personal maid rushes in your room, "Master have return." She says.

To her suprise, she sees you standing in the middle of the room, wearing your bathrobe and a towel in your hair already.

You take a deep breathe, not letting your eyes look away from the view you are seeing from your window, a clear blue sky.

"Miss.. shall I prepare your clothes?"

You close your eyes and then removed the towel wrapped around your long hair. "Please..." you softly answer

"What do you prefer to wear today, Miss?" She asks she she begins to walk towards your walk in closet.

"A black dress..." you say as you follow along. "Maybe the one with the longer sleeves."

She nods and then continues to search for the dresses you have that matches your description while you on the other hand looks at yourself in the full length mirror while you undress from your robe.

You stare at your body and see how you thin you are. Not super thin but thinner than what you used to.

It's your own fault. You have been skipping meals when you are stressed and it's not good.

"Miss?" She then lays three dresses on the sofa in the middle, for your choices.

"The middle one." You says.

You then open the drawer for your undies to grab a black lace matching underwear.

"Ahm, Miss...?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to eat with Master, in the dinning today?"

"Hmm... what did he say?"

"Nothing. He just asked me to stay with you when I told him you are in your bath."

"Did he say if he wants to see me?"

The maid didn't answer.

"I guess not." You scoff as you getting into the dress. "Just bring my food in my study room. I'll eat there while I do some reading."

"Understood." She bows and exists the room.

"I'm not gonna wait for him anymore." You say to yourself while looking onto the mirror. "If he's going to avoid me or ignore me... then... that's what I'll do as well..."

Starring once again at yourself on the mirror, you look at your face and then your eyes goes down to your belly.

"I have to learn to go on with my life... with or without him..." you mumble. "I should start to escape this fantasy... a dream that maybe the 'us' will be something."

Part 3 - Twilight

[pennyellee]

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU | MASTERLIST

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)

m.list: chapter I - absquatulate 2,11K chapter II - sponsalia 6,7K chapter III - ambience 6,9K filler - Game of Go 1,5K chapter IV - ustulation 5,6K chapter V - paraprosexia 7K chapter VI - súton 11,1K chapter VII - mágoa 12K chapter VIII - lítost 11,6K chapter IX - lacuna 8,7K chapter X pt.1 - seele 18,8K chapter X pt.2 -

cross-posted on ao3

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

[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

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

SET ME FREE x MIN YOONGI

[MAFIA AU]

PART FOUR

Welcome to my world

Side Characters: Kim Namjoon/detective, Jeon Jungkook/detective, Jung Hoseok/consigliere/mafia member, Park Jimin/rubber/mafia member, Kim Taehyung, Kim Seokjin/FBI.

Warnings: extreme violence and use of curse words, Smut, mentions of blood, death, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, porn (a lot of it), toxic yandere men, crime, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, gore, stalking, sharp objects, illicit drugs, alcohol.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF TORTURE AND EXTREME VIOLENCE (at the end of the chapter), READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. It will be signaled with “ +++” once it starts and ends in case you want to skip it.

<< Before

————————————————————————

Bang.

Bang.

The men fall on the ground, hand over his shoulder covering where i shot him.

I put the gun down still holding into it hard, the smell of gunpowder in the air around me I couldn’t move a single feet away from it as I watched the men on the ground, he was one of Namjoon colleagues I remember seeing his face a couple of times on his office the men probably knew who I was soon he’ll tell Namjoon about my betrayal and soon everyone at the stink will know what I did. The surprise to see me there on his face when I shot him was still there, between painful groans as he kneeled down he couldn’t believe his eyes and neither could I believe. I was tired of running away from everything, I’ll clean my name once I get Yoongi behind the bars for now I don’t mind letting the flames burn me. I know who I am.

The cold air felt painful in my lounges as I took deep breathes, still not believing what I did. He wasn’t the one I should be shooting but right now it was between me and Yoongi and if I have to get my hands dirty to save my family I will, I’ll never back down from it anymore. This is the person I’ll have to be I survive so I’ll embrace. I’ll dance with the devil if I must, I’ll let him play the song he wants and when the right time comes I’ll put him down to his knees.

I could see the reaction on his eyes as he stood there in front of me the smirk on his lips falling as his eyes looked into mine. I could guess he thought Jack was the one behind the shooting it was clear on his face how unexpected my actions were to him. We both stood there not believing what I did but, here we are now. The devil smiles to me.

He walked to me eyes not leaving mine, i only realized my hands were shaking when his own held them to take the gun out of me. I don’t dare to say a word and neither does he, the sound of the fire burning a head of us being the only thing we could hear I watched it as it was the only source of light between us and the men I shot. My mind was blank completely empty I couldn’t think of an escape to this for now, what can I even do for now to fix this? What will Yoongi do to me now, was all I thought about as I stared back into his eyes he looked behind me and nodded to Jack a look I couldn’t decipher, a language of their own. Not saying a word he took my arm in his hand and turning me to leave but I stop in my tracks instantly swallowing hard as he looked down at me still holding my arm, we are just gonna leave the men like that he already knows me anyways why would Yoongi take me with him now? I was still in shock at my own actions, crossed so many lines already what could he possibly still want from me now? Mouth opening but closing words nowhere to be found, completely lost in his eyes that burned over my own the flames behind me reflecting on his orbs as if I was staring inside hell itself, the devil only smiled to me. The hand around my arm closed over my waist now holding me against him he took me back to the car, I saw Jack making his way around the black car already getting back inside.

Yoongi opened the door letting me get in first as he sat beside me, I stared back at the men on the ground as Jack stared the car marking a turn to leave. Yoongis presence beside was the only thing keeping me from looking behind, the silence inside the car was so loud I could barely breath the calmness in the air after Jack began to drive the car out of there was making my skin burn, looking over the window as the view changed from a construction site to more and more nature the moon shined bright over us no clouds present in the sky the summer heat was still rising even at night time.

Red lights shining for far away we drove past a few police cars going where we left. Heart immediately beating faster as I looked behind at them, Namjoon must be in one of them he must know by now that his plan have failed and soon we’ll find out why his plan he worked on for so long didn’t work out. I looked down at my hands on my lap, what has my life turned into at this point I didn’t know. I just knew I wasn’t myself anymore, I could feel it deep inside me like the flick of a switch had turned on my head.

In my thoughts two words seemed to repeat like a song, keep going. When I drove here with them I keep saying it, when Jack first threatened me I say it, when I went to downtown for the first time I say it. Now it only seemed like a curse, for how long do I have to keep up with this? I almost killed someone tonight. When will it be enough?

Regret was a small words but it held so much weight over me now, if only I had stopped this stupid investigation when Yoongi warned me about but I was greedy something about him kept alluring me towards him like a damn magnet. He was a criminal I must take him down that’s why I fallowed him, that’s why I went to hell to get him, I told myself that everyday but the days went by where I kept thinking that and the further away from my own lies I went. For my brother I would shot someone, I thought that I would for sure. I looked beside me Yoongi seemed focused on the road a head of him, the thought of him getting hurt in front of me sensed chills down my spine as much as I didn’t wanted, as much as I forced myself into it I couldn’t stop this feeling from creeping out of me anymore.

What in the fuck am I doing right now?

I turned back to my window seeing the big extravagant gates the car stopped before they opened completely for it to enter I notice my motorbike was still parked there were I left, I thought at this point Jack would come out and opened the door for me to leave and let me make my own way from here but the car didn’t stop for me to leave and he only drove further inside the building behind the gates.

He drove slowly towards a large, luxurious mansion stopping in front of the parking area of it. There were security guards at every corner of the mansion heavily armed. If it wasn’t today I would be impressed by it but tonight wasn’t one I would look at it proud, I don’t think I ever will. Beside me Yoongi opened the door to leave taking my wrist in his hand as he did so, I looked back at the car seeing Jack didn’t move at all. So he wasn’t coming.

Fallowing Yoongi towards the entrance of the mansion I heard Jack drive off, heart racing at the thought of going inside alone. I knew he wasn’t the best to be around but something about being just me with Yoongi tonight felt different, my mind was racing with thoughts I couldn’t help but go over every possibility or any scenario that was going to happened. Was he going to kill me? Lock me up in his basement? Would he use me to hide his tracks? As much as I thought it didn’t make any sense for him to dirty his own hands with me and not let Jack end the job, what else could I expect from him? He wouldn’t save me this time. I fuck up for every one by shooting that detective.

The doors where opened by his security men, he never let go of my wrist as we entered the extravagant and luxurious mansion. The place was spectacular every detail spilled the most high quality classy design and materials I’ve ever seen, stone statues guarded the entrance on the outside and inside the floor was a shiny black marble with golden details, the entrance was large and had two extensive stairs on each sides of the wall that connected to the second floor, in the middle was a statuette of a woman cover in red roses as water fall on her body down a small fountain underneath it the large windows were covered by a deep dark purple curtain.

As we walked up the stair many times i wanted to ask him, but my mouth didn’t move I couldn’t find my voice. Mind still running the engines but no action, deep down I was afraid to just be right. He took me to a corridor then turned to an opened meeting room, I heard water falling as we entered the specious room and my eyes turned to see a an entire glass wall with water falling on it completely amazed by it, I felt him let go of my wrist making his way to the bar on the left side of the room not knowing what to do I only stood there as he filled two cups with what I could guess was whiskey.

Something felt different as soon as we stepped inside this room, it felt odd how he looked so calm the entire time moving around like nothing happened. Sure to someone like him this was just like any other Tuesday, he must’ve seen and done much worst things in this life time for a shotgun to impress him. The fact that he looked so intense but calm was driving me insane, I could tell he had something under his finger something to use against me but didn’t know what. He turned towards me handing me the second cup with alcohol, the scent was strong as soon as I brought it up to my face I felt my insides burning. Not looking up to him only the dark marble floor under me as I gulped down the bitter liquid, I could feel his eyes burning over my figure as he just stood there not saying anything.

Not knowing what else to do, I gulped down all the content in my cup. The strong taste of alcohol making me regret it immediately, as I force myself to swallow it noticing my reaction seemed to amaze Yoongi as he smirked at me drink the thing as if it was just water and not gasoline. Surely he didn’t brought me here for a drink, not after what happened tonight. It looked like he was supposed to meet someone else there but, Namjoon got that guy before and played a trap to get him.

- why… did you brought me here, I’m sure it wasn’t for a simple chitchat? - i asked him, not looking at him but at the now empty cup in my hands my thumbs sliding over the glass my throat still burned from the bitter taste.

- Humm… I thought you knew that already - he said, even his voice sounded much deeper this time - that’s why you’re here, or should I have left you there?

He took one step closer, I could see his black shiny shoes as I still didn’t dare to look up at him. I couldn’t face him not knowing what he was thinking, what he wanted from me.

- I thought Scarlet told you after you handed me so nicely her card - he said amusement dripping from every word he said.

The mention of the card brought the memories from the night I first went to Paradise, Scarlet must be the red head woman I meet that night who lended me the poker red queen card from Paradise but just what did that had to do with me? Not long after that night he came back to the station sliding the king of spades on my pocket. Since then I couldn’t ask him directly what it meant.

- well she didn’t, so what does it means? - I looked up as I asked him regretting it immediately as he looked me up and down - do explain… Agust D.

I pressed the last sentence, the name rolled down so naturally out of my lips it fitted him perfectly. That’s who he was after all. He only chuckled drinking the rest of the brown liquid on his cup putting it down over the coffee table on the center of the room making his way towards me he closed completely the distance between us. In a second his hands were closed around my neck as he pushed my body against him, I gasped letting the cup fall from my hands as it then shatter against the floor.

- who am I? - he growled against my lips, his eyes burning over mine.

- You’re… Agust d - I stated breathless, feeling heavy and completely out of breath he chuckled and I felt the on his breath whiskey hitting my face.

My entire body burned as he left my neck to grab my jaw his own body completely glued to mine as he pushed me against the wall, holding me to look at him bodies burning over each other’s, my mind was fuzzy all I could hear was the beating of my heart on my chest as I held my breath feeling a sharp cold tip of what i could only guess was a knife against my ribs. Body going alert now, eyes looked on his burning ones I couldn’t say a single word complete petrified under him. I knew he wouldn’t bring me here for a drink, I did all he enacted me to do now what else could he need from me? I was just another pawn under him.

I shouldn’t have said his name, I should have lay low and ignore that or at least lie about it until I could leave. He kept his identity a mystery all this time, now that I know him he’ll kill me to protect himself.

This could be my chance to escape, I could fight him if only my body didn’t felt so heavy and my mind so fuzzy. All I could feel was his heavy breathing against my face and the strong scent of alcohol mixed with his intense woody cologne I knew very well from the moment I saw him at my station, the more I looked into his eyes the more my body seemed to give in.

This isn’t me. Something must be wrong with me. I would never let him corner me like this not after just one cup of whiskey at least, unless he did brought me here for drink just to take me out quietly.

- what did you put in my cup?! - I spat, accusing him. He just chuckled chest moving up and down as he took one deep breath before holding my chin tighter.

- why? Feeling a bit overwhelmed? - he murmured over my lips, my heart racing completely losing my breath as I swallowed hard.

- you did - I stated helplessly, eyes felling heavier.

- you think I would need that? - he smirked.

I felt the cold point of the knife move up on my side then down on my hip he teased the sharp knife against me, hand pushing my hair away from my face leaving my neck visible to him as he held the knife against it. I gasped feeling it burn over my skin looking away from him, hearing the deep chuckle coming from his chest.

- this…. - he murmured over my ear, leaving my chin to put his hand over the wall beside my face his hot breath over my skin sending chills down my hot body - is all you.

I turned back to look at him, he had a knowing smirk on his lips. He couldn’t be serious here no way in hell I’d be this work up over him he must’ve done something I’m sure this isn’t natural at all, how could I feel this way when he’s clearly threatening my life right now? This burning feeling running over my skin can’t be just an attraction, I refuse to believe it even now with my eyes unconsciously focusing over his lips heat flowing all over my body as I felt him push my body against the wall, his body completely covering mine.

- you’re lying… - i breathlessly said, nervous and turned on at the same time - why I’m here? You said you don’t hurt woman.

He only chuckled, his breath dancing against my skin as well as the knife he held against me. He purposely pressed his thigh between my legs separating them as the sharp tip of the knife slides down my neck between my chest stoping at my belly. He held my chin forcing me to look at him, something burned in his eyes.

- why? - he whispered against my lips - because, you’re mine now.

His lips brushing over my neck, the sharp knife dancing over my body side to side over my belly completely taking my breath away from my lunges.

- and you didn’t even know what you were getting into - he laughed, chest vibrating as he chuckled - yet you brought the card to the owner of her, didn’t you know? That’s how you become a pet at Paradise?

What?

I’m sure I asked him. My mind felt so over the clouds I could barely tell if I did say it or not right now, I was completely lost on him to understand anything about what he was saying. I couldn’t say anything else, mind completely collapsing once he cuts open my shirt hand holding my chin up kissing me so harshly and deliciously my body was giving in instantly, I couldn’t hold myself anymore moaning against his lips feeling him bite into my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood out of it. He groans sticking the knife into the wall right beside my head, any time that would scare me to death but now it only makes me grab into him harder feeling his hands sliding down my back slowly with his short nails carving my skin through my shirt stopping at my butt, he gabs me hard before sliding them to my thighs holding me up against the wall.

Separating our lips only to growl over my ear.

- I’ll fuck you till you can’t walk tonight - he said against my neck - don’t you dare tell me to stop.

Shit.

His lips moved from my ear to my neck, leaving harsh bites painfully marking my skin then soothing it with wet kisses over it down to my chest. I closed my arms around his neck holding him closer sliding my hands over his shoulders to grab a hold of his hair, feeling the vibration of his moan against my lips locking into a deep kiss tongue dancing against mine sending waves of pleasure through my whole body as he kept running his hands over my back now sliding them under my shirt he tore opened, i cling over him as he held me up instantly pushing us away from the wall walking around the room never once did his lips left mine even when I felt him lower me down against the soft fabric of the black sofa.

Still over me he stops, forehead against mine as he moves his fingers from my hips stopping at my bellybutton then sliding down to open my jeans taking them off of me ever so slowly, sharp eyes locked over mine the entire time our unsteady breathes intertwining. All i could do was watch him move above me completely hypnotized by his every move.

He sits on his knees in front of me, eyes running over my entire body as he pushes his hair back. Tounge running over his bottom lip, he takes of his black blazer throwing it on the floor, then his tie slowly button it down his white shirt.

- look at you… - he murmured, opening the last bottom. - all hungry for me…

He leaned himself over me again, hand cupping my check as his thumb slides over my botttom lip. I can only stare amazed into his brown orbs, body shivering from desire craving his touch so bad it hurts completely burning every cell on my skin. Not wasting any time as his lips capture mine between his own lips, hands dancing over each others body scratching and gripping harder each second as we bth completely lose ourselves on the burning desire that grows hotter between our bodies

Gripping into his hair as he lowers his body fully against mine, i shiver at the feeling of his skin burning against mine mind losing any last bit of sanity i had left. He slides on arm underneath my waist pulling me closer making me arch my back up, another hand holding the nape of my neck tightly as he slowly grinds his hips against mine. A moan into his wet lips feeling how hard he is over me, completely out of breath already as he holds me tighter every time he moves against me chasing his own pleasure.

His lips leaving mine to plant kisses over my chest as he ruts into me, his voice vibrates through my skin as he groans against me completely drunk in his pleasure. Teeth sinking into my skin as he held into me harder, my whole body burns in the ecstatic feeling of his hands sliding over my skin as he made a path with his lips from my chest to my neck leaving a long lick there before he grabs my hips up against his crotch terribly slowly. Pressing his hard cock over my sweet spot as he leaned back, hands still glued to my hips i watched as he sat between my legs bitting into his own bottom lip eyes closed as he enjoyed hi own pleasure with the most pleasant expression ever as if he could ecstasy from the feeling at any moment. He looked like a sex god above me, how his muscles stiffen every time he grinned on me harsh breathes leaving his lips each time.

I could feel the wetness between my leg sliding down my ass already, feeling needier the more the teased above me completely drunk own the pleasure. I watched as he slowly began to undo the bottom of his pants sliding so fucking slowly the zipper down, eyes locked with mine as a smirk formed on his lips. I could bearly held myself from complete collapsing into his madness the more i waited for him, sitting up i grabbed him by his pants pulling his lips back to mine as he groaned on my mouth holding the waist line of his pants i began to punch them down until they stop at his knees. Bitting into my bottom lip he stops the kiss eyes burning over mine as i take the chance to feel his skin sliding my hands up from his knees till his hips, swallowing his breaths against my lips feeling beyond into him.

Lips brushing into mine as he held my neck pushing me back against the sofa hovering above me using his knees to spread me opened for him, he slides his left hand down between us and i feel like gasoline being set on fire as he slowly slides his head between my lower lips over my clit a moan escaping my lips at the delicious stimulation, his own eyes closing as breathy moans leave his lips. Bucking my hips up against his as a wave of pleasure hit me right through, with a groan he completely slides his dick inside me.

Feeling overwhelmed by the delicious feel of him filling me up so fucking good I immediately close my arms around his neck, with one hand he supports himself up above me as the other one keeps me still by the neck. Eyes burning into mine one last time before he takes my lips harshly between his, that scar never looked so good on him before then it does now with pleasure filling every little bit of his brain. Seat beginning to drip from his forehead over mine, my moans being entirely swallowed by his hungry mouth as he began to move his hips against mine slowly but hard.

Feeling myself pulse around him as the waves of pleasurable stimulation fills every cell on my body, lips leaving his to beg for more against his mouth louder each time as the pleasure becomes almost beyond control turning ourselves into two animals starved for each others touch.

More. I moaned against him. More.

Fingers gripping at the nape of his neck, grabbing his hair feeling almost desperate for his touch even the smallest amount was enough to send me into over drive, the wet sounds between our legs getting louder as he starts moving faster. Sweat covering our bodies like second skin, holding tighter each other as the pleasure becomes more and more intense. His hands brushing deliciously against my sides, stretching every inch of skin with his short nails to stop at my hips were he grabbed harshly my own hands holding into him just as hard as i felt my own orgasm, slowly creeping up between our bodies.

More.

I begged and he gave me all i wanted. Until i feel the overwhelming sensation of pleasure fills every muscle of my body completely going into ecstasy as his movements slowly stops, feeling all my wetness drip down my legs.

I went so high i bearly could make any word he speak afterwards, feeling even more aroused at the sound of his raspy deep voice above me send me into another dimension.

- turn around and get on your knees, I didn’t come yet.

Shit.

He did told me he wouldn’t stop.

I tried my best to move between the highs of pleasure still dancing over my sweaty body, slowly turning around on the sofa as i got on all fours in front of him. I felt so high on pleasure, completely drunk on it i could bearly made out when he grabbed my hips holding myself up into a sitting position, back glued against his naked chest i gasped at the feeling shivers sliding down into an electric wave of stimulation.

His heavy breathes hitting the back of my neck as he teasingly begins to brush his finger over my sides, leaving wet kisses on my shoulder as his short nails left marks above my ribs down to my waist stoping at my hips as he pulls me more into him opening my legs more. I could hear him pumping himself against me as low moans left his lips over my skin, one hand sliding up over my body grabbing my chest a moan leaving my own lips as he the pleasure of his touches kept sending hot waves of ecstasy between my legs. Wetness sliding down my parted legs soon being filled again by his hard cock, a groan immediately leaving my lips as my body shoot up in pleasure being held back down agains Yoongi once i ease down his length feeling his hands wrap around my body as he begins to pound into me again, lips immediately searching for my neck.

The overwhelming pleasure filling my cunt making whimpers and moans vibrate through my throat, as the warmth swells over my entire body again. Grinding down against him at an increased speed, feeling he hit deep within my soaking walls grabbing into his thighs behind me carving my nails on his skin as he peak the pace even more pounding harder and faster into me, desperate moans filling the room intertwined with his deep groans. The sensation of his fingers moving slowly up and down over my clit only adds to the pleasure of the increased speed, his groans getting louder the harder he pounded into me aggressively moving his hips against me causing me to lean even more over his chest from the sensation becoming far too overwhelmed.

The heat builds in between my tights immediately tensing around him, nails digging harder into his skin.

- tel me how good it feels - He groaned over my ear, a deep chuckle coming from his lips.

I feel my head up in the clouds, bearly able to make a single sentence head spinning in confusion as he kept moving his fingers between my slick cunt.

- say it.

Body completely giving into his becoming to weak from his pleasure, feeling another chuckle vibrating through his chest against my back. His hands sliding over my body to grab my chest as he continued o pound into my wet walls, feeling them tense more and more around him. The burning feeling growing desperately each second spreading all over my body once again, i held into his hands over my chest for support as i felt another orgasm building up between my legs.

- Yoongi… - his name slips deliciously from my lips - so good, so good…

I can’t bearly recognize my own voice full of desperation and pleasure, fallowed by moans and whimpers of his name. Holding tightly into him as the pleasure builds up hotter and hotter from his length buried between my thighs deep inside me, finally letting myself go feeling the intense warmth fills my entire body again reaching another high almost falling into the sofa but being held by Yoongis arms immediately, he lazily chuckles behind me over my tired body.

Body steal pulsing with pleasure as i let him hold into me thrusting sloppily into me as he rides his own orgasm, feeling his wetness filling me up completely till he drips between our legs increasing deliciously my own pleasure.

By the time he pulls away, my whole body is trembling. Feeling him carefully lay me down against the soft sofa, my breathing slowly beginning to slower down still too high up in the clouds to move away. Knees feeling sore underneath slowly resting.

An intense feeling of tiredness filling my trembling body, the last thing i felt was the ghost of Yoongis lips over my back as he traced my spine carefully up and down until a fall deeply into a slumber.

[…]

The bright light hitting my face as I became more and more conscious slowly waking up from my sleep, head feeling heavy from sleeping in a bad position I groaned feeling a sharp pain shot behind my neck, time should be the last thing I worry about at least for now but I can’t help thinking about it as I lift my upper body up stretching myself up. I massage my neck trying to release some of the pain, still a bit out of it from just waking up I try my best to fix my messy hair the white cover sliding down a bit as i continued to move, a cold feeling hitting my naked body under the sheets I hold the cover back up to cover my chest looking around the room I was in not remembering when I came here. Taking in the details I couldn’t the night before the walls where a dark gray, no decoration, no photos hanging on them minimalistic to is finest. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who would have candles and a fluffy carpet to decorate his room, obviously. A sight left my lips as I lay back over the soft mattress of the king sized bed, the room was spotless though everything was so clean as if he had just bought it, the though that maybe he bearly spend anytime in this house passed through my mind. Men are all the same, they buy large houses just to fill more their egos in the end their hearts are the ones left empty.

With a sight I lay down again feeling something hard under my head my body instantly becoming stiff at the thought of him, I turned to the side only to be meet with his face right next to mine. He had a hard expression over his features even while sleeping although the light shining from window made his features look soft almost like a completely different person. The scar on his face shined under the sunlight, it had healed a lot more since the first time I saw him. It wasn’t fresh as I could tell but he certainly got it not long ago. He looked so beautiful right now stealing my breath away at the sight of his calm face so close to mine, his milky white skin so soft under mine. How could he look so calm and peaceful right now, people like him always amazed me. Criminals like him.

The memories from last night swimming back to my mind like a brick, I didn’t know what to feel in this circle of fire after all the things I’ve done deep down I knew the damage was already done, i kept thinking that every time almost like a silly cry for mercy. I could try to make things better and say I was only being threatened by the Agust d but, at the same time it would be a lie it would only mean I’m just like one of them. Lying and manipulating people so I can escape the horrible things I’ve done. I can’t go back to who I used to be. I can’t be the girl Namjoon wants me to be, I know that. I don’t want to go back and right now I couldn’t feel a single drop of remorse or guilty.

Am I becoming one of them?

The only things that comes to my mind is that I just know, I want to go to him.

Mindlessly I gave into the temptation to touch his skin, he was so close to me now I needed to feel his skin again. After last night I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what we did, the need to touch him was bigger then any self control I had in my body Yoongi was like a drug. Once you have a taste you can’t stop yourself and want more. Slowly moving my hand towards his face I softly traced his check down to his jaw. He didn’t move a bit, seemed to be still deep in his sleep. I could still taste him on my lips, just the thought of his hands over my skin were enough to send me into a mess. What was about him that felt so deeply addictive?

I carefully traced up over his check but before I could get any closer to his scar my wrist was quickly held away from his face.

He opened his eyes slowly, staring into mine sharply. I gulped down nervously.

- don’t - was all he said, in a low deep voice.

I slowly moved my head up and down signaling “ok” shivers running down my spine as his sharp eyes kept looking at me, hard expression over his soft features. Same eyes that burned over mine last night, It was so hard to maintain eye contact with him I could never guess what was going through his head. Did I upset him? I couldn’t tell, not when his eyes were a pool of honey and coffee shining so beautifully under the sunlight to stare deep into mine.

- you’re awake - I whispered, feeling completely out of breath.

- the whole time - he said, I bite down on my bottom lip deciding to look at his hand that still held my wrist away from his face. Warmth burning at my cheeks.

I was surprised he even slept here after last night, I couldn’t remember how we got up here the last thing I remember was falling asleep after he sanded me into an overdrive of pleasure. Now that I was back to my self the thought brought a nervous feeling to my insides, I liked being in his presence but I hated how much I liked that. Especially knowing he wasn’t the type of men to care enough about woman after he sleeps with them. I shouldn’t have let this happened, now this was just another card he could use against me in the future. I must keep myself strong in order to survive here this wasn’t the world I was used to after all, it was his world.

I tried to take my wrist from his grip but he didn’t let go, making my eyes run back to his nervously. He pressed my arm over my head lifting himself up to rover over my body completely, his skin burning against mine just like last night as he lays his body over mine. The feeling of his naked body against mine sending a shiver down my spine making me arche in desire instantly, the little movement of my hips bringing a knowing feeling of discomfort enough to make me knowledge how my body was still recovering from last night but still in desperate need of touch again.

He held both my wrists above my head, lips falling over my neck kissing and biting over the marks he left last night.

- you regret it - it wasn’t a question he murmured against my skin almost like a cat purring, I gulped down the feeling of warmth that rise up my body at the sound of his low voice, releasing his face from my neck to stare at my face his eyes scanned the marks he left on my skin with a smirk on his face.

- no - I whispered back, feeling how dry my throat was.

- lies…. I know that look on your face - he said, a smirk on his lips and now this wasn’t Yoongi anymore - want me to remind you how much you liked last night?

I gulped down not being able to say anything, this was Agust D now.

I couldn’t say anything, my mind would say something and in a second my body would betray me for his touch completely under the addicting need of his touch.

In a movement he sat down between my legs pushing his long hair back as the bed covers falling completely from our bodies exposing our naked selves to each others gaze. My eyes scanned every detail of his chest I couldn’t last night, we were so starved for each other i bearly had any chance to simply appreciate his presence. My heavens, he was so beautiful. This isn’t good for my self control.

How his milky skin shined under the dim sunlight that graced us through the slightly open curtains, enhanced every detail over his body, every vain in his arms and hips. I felt completely tipsy over him, just the sight of him was enough to turn me into a mess so thirsty for his taste.

- I guess we could… - he traced my knee slowly down to my hip bringing me closer, stealing a gasp from me at his harsh movement - I don’t mind reminding you again.

His eyes seemed to be capturing every part of me all spreed for him, heat burning over my cheeks. He lower himself down in a second my own hands coming in touch with his chest at instinct, the feeling of his soft and cold skin over my hands making me melt in want under his kiss stoping a few seconds after. A smirk danced over his lips as he looked down at my hands over his chest, the only thing stopping him from completely falling over me.

- I should tie you up next time - he said, I couldn’t hold the surprise at his words not being able to make out any sane thought afterwards.

He chuckled at my reaction grabbing my thigh over his hip fixing himself between my legs, his touch making my entire body heat up with desire electricity flooding through my veins every time his fingers brushed over my skin making me anticipate every moment he goes further. With his fingertips ghosting over my hip, it’s only a second before he dips his hand between my parting thighs. I gasp a the touch feeling my insides clench around nothing, making him chuckle above me my hands sliding up from his chest to his shoulders grabbing the skin. Goosebumps running over my skin from head to toe as he keeps a slow rhythm running his finger up and down teasing my clit, waves of pleasure instantly spread across my body making me bite my lip. Not being able to keep my eyes opened as the pleasure completely melted over me at the feeling of his fingers circling over my clit caressing so damn slowly.

The tension begins to build so deliciously all control I had was completely lost now, replaced with an intense desire to have him inside me. Every touch is electric, pleasure filling every inch of my body until my legs start shaking. Digging my nails into his skin as the waves of a bliss roll through my body.

- do you still regret it? - he mumbles over my ear.

I bite into my lower lip to keep a moan down as he slips inside me one finger, holding tighter over his shoulders as he uses his thumb to move over my clit while still moving inside me. He chuckles at my reaction with his other hand holding my chin up making me look at him, lips brushing over mine his eyes burning with desire.

He stops his movements bringing his fingers back up over my lips caressing my bottom lip with his thumb covered on my arousal, his breathing is faster eyes looking heavier now he kept biting and licking over his lower lips. I didn’t took another second and sucked on his thumb, tasting myself on him he groaned deep and needy pleasure displayed over every corner of his face in a second he replaces his thumb with his tongue inside my mouth, I moan against him rolling my hips up on his feeling how hard he already is over me. Stoping only to adjust himself between my thighs, the feeling of his hard cock slowly sliding inside me sending waves of pleasure all over me making me arch my back. Starting out slow as he groans over my ear I grab into him tightly closing my arms around his shoulder as he continues to move back and forth, kissing beneath his ear earning a grip over my hips as he moves deeper inside me making me burn with desire his hips buck into me a growl emitting from his chest and I moan out his name feeling my insides clench around his cock.

I can’t help but whimper against his neck holding him tighter, thighs pressing around his waist his lips finding mine again as he begins to quicken his peace. Hand slipping between my thighs again to press his fingers against my clit, body needing release the more he teases it. He thrusts deeper caressing circles over my clit making me moan out loud. Grabbing his hair in fist a hungrily taste his tongue against mine, he can only groan hips quickening in pace as he pumps harder into me feeling breathless as time goes by, pleasure consuming every inch of my body. Another growl builds in his chest growing desperate he begins to move faster, feeling his cock hit deeper within my walls he bites into my bottom lip the familiar sting rising all over my body the warmth swell until it washes all over my body, legs trembling in high pleasure until it becomes so overwhelming I feel it dripping down my slit.

He groans separating our lips as he rides out his own he pulls away keeping himself up with his arm above my head, unsteady breathes escaping his mouth over mine as he pulls his cock from within my dipping walls pumping his length with a tight grip it takes only a few second before the drops of his release fall over my belly, he comes undone over me before the last drop of his release hits my flesh he falls against my body.

None of us moves still catching our breaths as we get down from our high and slowly we come right back. He pulls himself up again a knowing smirk over his lips as he bite into the lower lip staring down at me.

- any regrets? - he asked, I only moved my head side to side indicating a “no” not looking into his eyes as I only stared down at his neck watching his chest move up and down while he chuckled.

He leaned down again pressing a kiss over my lips before getting up, I stared at his naked back seeing the long marks of my nails on his back as he entered the bathroom. He came back no long after wearing a red silky robe and pants.

- I have work to get done - he said, standing in front of the bed - make yourself at home, you can use anything you need here.

- okay… - I murmured looking up at him, he kneeled down over the bed making a sing with his finger for me to get up towards him.

I slowly made my way back to him, holding the shits to cover me as tight as possible. Once I was close enough he grabbed me by the neck pressing his lips over mine, feeling his tongue slip inside my mouth without permission I groaned against him he stops the kiss with a bite over my lower lip. Giving me one last look he turned around to leave the room.

Oh god.

It took a lot more effort than I thought it would to get up from his bed, covering myself on his sheets a make my way to the bathroom on his room. The bathroom it self was almost as big as the bedroom but, different then the rest of the house it was brighter in colors once completely inside im meet with a big square bathtub, a shower beside it separated and on my right a large sink with a mirror that went up to the ceiling. I made my way towards it looking the mess I was n the mirror. If I didn’t knew any better I’d thought I got in a fight last night upon seeing myself in the mirror.

From my jaw down my neckI completely covered in marks, his love bites were something else. Letting the sheet fall to my feet I found out my neck wasn’t the only part of me he marked, my hips had scratching marks as well as my back and belly following up to my chest.

Memories of his touch and roughness filling my mind, how things escalated so fast last night. I couldn’t let a simple night of pleasure - and morning - erase how much distress he has put me this past week. Threatening me and making me do his dirty work just to make things more difficult for me to get him. I quickly brushed off, now it wasn’t the time for this and I need that shower more then ever. To relax my body and clear my mind.

As much as the bathtub seemed so inviting I make my way towards the shower, I just needed to cool things out right now my mind was still clouded filled with not so pure thoughts I had to make out what steps to take from now, letting the warm water fall over my tired body immediately relaxing all the muscles a sight of relief leaving my lips at the warm feeling take over my entire body. For now I would have to sort things with Yoongi as soon as possible we’ve been playing this game for too long and things need to be fixed now there’s no time to play when you’re in a world like this I can’t just let him throw me from side to side with no clear direction, reaching out to grab the shampoo I found out there was none only a lavender scented soap. A sight left my lips as a improvised tying my hair with itself. No washing hair today then.

Feeling much calmer now that I was clean I don’t take much time there though I knew I would be there for hours if I let myself wonder too much in my thoughts. Once I’m done, I dry myself out covering my body with the towel making my way back to the room realizing only my shirt was here on the floor, the rest of my clothes were probably still on the meeting room. The thought immediately brought a blush to my face. I can’t just go there wearing only a towel to cover my body, what if someone sees me?

That thought definitely wasn’t pleasant. I swallowed the bitter taste, the closet was beside the bathroom the door half opened I quickly make my way there the lights turned on by itself making it clear every piece of clothing inside it perfectly organized and hanged all separated by colors. Not that it was much colorful though, mostly being black and white and a very few gray button shirts and blue. Taking a closer look at the clothes feeling the fabrics as i slide my fingers over one it felt and looked so expensive, how neat and perfectly organized they were, how good they all smelled. This wasn’t just any smell, It transmitted luxury in every detail.

If I take any piece of clothing here Yoongi might actually cut my head off - I thought for a second but quicklyI brushed it away, making my way towards the drawers, there’s must be something here I could borrow for now that would get me kill, right?

The first one I opened immediately got me shocked, it was filled with rings and watches of all types shining with gold and diamonds all organized side by side. I closed that one as fast as I opened, turned to the next one it had some more shirtsI kept looking carefully through them till I finally found were his pajama pants were. I had to hold myself from having a little happy dance, I was begging to feel so nervous there. All of those expensive clothes, if I messed up yoongi would kill me.

But he wouldn’t mind if a borrow one of his pajama pants, would he? Out of everything there those were the only ones that seemed least shocking expensive. Once I got what I needed I quickly left that closet, dressing myself on the bedroom.

I took one final glance at myself on the mirror wall beside the bed, it didn’t look much different than what I would usually look on weekends. The pants were baggy on me even though they felt a bit tighter over the hips, definitely not meant for a woman with hips like mine but still comfortable. I fixed my hair the best i could leaving it fall messily fall over my shoulders.

I didn’t know what to do now, should I just leave the house? I know better then to do anything that could risk my life, it wasn’t just some normal persons place but a mafia man no other then Agust d. I would first have to talk with Yoongi, something’s needed to be discussed.

Making my way out of the room I immediately regret it not asking him were he would go, how am I supposed to find him in this enormous house? I didn’t have time to even check we’re we where going last night since we were obviously busy, things felt so confusing out of a sudden. What am I even doing here? Yoongi had some explanation to do over all that belonging thing with the Paradise poker card, just what in the world those people are doing with that?

He didn’t look like that type of men. He wasn’t that type of men. So what does he really want from me?

Not only that thought is driving me completely insane but, what in the world was I thinking? A sense of regret was bound to cross my mind, all the choices I made were only to save my brother. Even so the heavy weight over my chest wasn’t leaving me, would my brother finally be safe now that they have me? The only thing I knew was I had to make sure of it. How could I trust them so easily to the point were I completely forgot who I was, all my choices were meant to save someone yet I could still damage his life just as bad. If word goes out not only will my brothers life be in danger but, Namjoon.

I laid in the bed of his enemy, he would never forgive me for it if he finds out. Not only that but I’m sure the station would turn against me. They probably already know I’m with Yoongi, I can’t go back to the life I used to have. All the choices I made took me to rock bottom. And I can’t blame anyone else for it but myself.

How foolish of me. I didn’t deserve any forgiveness. I must carry on this path, wherever it takes me I must make sure I survive this war I stared with myself.

I don’t know when I found myself in front the meeting room Yoongi took me last night, I’ve been walking in this long corridor for a while now. It looked even more beautiful in the day light, now I could see the how the light form outside shined over the water falling over the window the small table with all sorts of drinks over on the right a for seat sofa in front of the wall were some of his and mine clothes were displayed and a tea table in the middle were empty cups lay there with a bottle of whiskey almost empty out the sing we must have had more drinks last night before we go to his bedroom, nothing else in the room but that. The sound of water falling was calming, the traces of last night were in every corner of the room immediately bringing a hot blush to my cheeks as I stared at our clothes laying everywhere, the possibility of someone might heaving seen it made me instantly rush to get them. I quickly took one by one in my hands, the house was so quiet except for the sound of water falling from further away though I could swear I heard voices one of them was clearly Yoongi. I couldn’t go back to the room and put the clothes there, I was sure I would get lost again so I just hide them under the sofa as fast as I could and quietly made my way to back at corridor again.

Fallowing the sound of their voices the best I could I stopped in front of a double door on the left of the long corridor, they seemed to be coming from there, standing beside it I kept my focused on their conversation.

- why did you have to bring her!? - it was Jack who said, I recognized and he didn’t sounded so happy - she’s one of them!

I was the only she I knew was brought here so this was definitely a conversation about me, no wonder Jack isn’t doesn’t sound so happy.

- I’m well aware of that Hoseok, what do you want from me? - it was Yoongi, he sounded calm like Jacks outbursts were nothing.

So that must be Jacks real name, everyone here seemed to have code names so the police don’t track them down.

- she’s been behaving only because we kept her on a leash with that brother of hers… - Jack stated, I could hear the anger building up on his voice again as he speaks - I can’t believe you would do such stupid thing just for a pussy D!

- Are you accusing my ability to make decisions because of a woman? - Yoongis voice was calm but stern at the same time at his words they both fell silent.

There were a few moments of silence between them, before I hear the sound of crashing glass.

If Jack is so pressed about me being here I must do something, he wouldn’t hesitate to take my brother life if something happened to Yoongi and it has been clear since day one how much he already disliked me I can’t let myself fall especially now that I’m under the same roof as them. If shooting one of Namjoons men wasn’t enough to prove them they had me I would have to go to the bottom of this. Things are getting messy more and more, Jack wasn’t wrong about this after all me being here definitely wasn’t the best choice. Why did I have to shoot that guy? Now I’m stuck here and probably will have to work more for Yoongi before he even considers letting me go, In the end is not much different then the my work at the station, I would still have to prove my worth for men the only difference is that now I must do it so Jack doesn’t kill my brother or me while I sleep.

- you know better then anyone else who I am and what I’m capable of… - Yoongis tone wasn’t as calm as before, now sharp and clear - do you not trust me?

- of course I do… is she who I don’t trust! - Jack exasperated, anger spilling at every word.

- I’ll kill her myself if she does anything - Yoongi said, his words sanded a chill down my spine.

Everyone seemed to have a desire with for my head on a plate, even though all I did was obey. None of them say a single words after that, I heard step’s getting closer and I quickly turned to leave that wasn’t the best moment to be found by someone who wanted me dead sneaking around especially after he had a very exclusive conversation with his boss. If I wasn’t going down by Yoongis hands Jack would definitely do the job,very painfully I assumed.

And so, if his trust is what I need to get to live I better do something quickly.

Before I could even take another step the doors were opened harshly, good thing they opened towards the outside hiding me from Jack in the process and almost breaking my nose as well.

I swallowed hard feeling my heart almost bursting out of my chest, I waited a bit as I could tell Jack was leaving the corridor through his heavy steps until I don’t hear any sound of him to come out of my hiding spot behind the door.

I took a deep breath before entering this couldn’t wait any longer, I had to set things straight with Yoongi now or else this would end very ugly. Closing the doors behind me as I entered I was soon meet with a large office the room was dark no lights in it except for the the light coming from the window balcony were he stood back turned towards me not noticing me presence. I took a deep breath holding myself as I felt a cold wind flew by the opened window, he still wore the same red silky robe from earlier smoke filling the air around him cigarette in his hand. He seemed to be in deep thought not noticing as I made my way into his office.

Suddenly I felt so small, like I just disrupted a tiger who was sleeping peacefully but I needed to have this talk with him we have to put the cards on the table now more then ever. If I can’t play against him, I’ll play with him instead.

I cleared my throat the sound making him look over his shoulder instantly, my heart almost skipping a beat as his eyes locked with mine the smallest gestures of his could turn my whole world upside down. I had to take control of my body, this won’t work if he keeps affecting me this way.

He turned back slowly taking a blow of the cigarette as he sat down on the big chair behind the desk, blowing the smoke lazily as he looked at me up and down. I swallowed hard, all the muscles in my body goin stiff under his sharp eyes.

He looked incredible good right now, messy dark hair and chest half exposed by the robe he didn’t care to tie.

- are you just going to stand there and watch me? - he asked.

- no… - o clear my throat again, mind going blank at the sight of him - we need to talk.

That’s right, talk. I have to put my cards on the table and now is time for our first match, only thing I have no cards to use against him.

- we do - he agrees, putting the cigarette down.

I took the seat in front of him. Nervously and slowly I tried to use any second a could in order to form a sentence, we have been through so much now yet I have no idea how to start this conversation.

Like something was lost after we slept together, I can’t let that change my mind so easily but I also cannot ignore it. After all, Yoongi brought me here.

- why did you brought me here? - I asked him, that was a good start.

- I already told you that - he said, blowing more of the smoke in the air.

- yes, but you didn’t explain - he sighted, I watched as he just took another blow of the cigarette eyes going up and down over me.

-right, I’ll explain then - he got up from the chair, walking up to a small bar set on the left just before the window he filled a cup for himself before proceeding with his explanation - there is a order in crime, those who come before anyone else and those who come after them. At the top is where me and a few more people stand, anyone else that comes after us is… well low graded.

- were do I stand in there? - I asked watching as he game me a smirk only.

- nowhere, you don’t stand there - he said, sitting back down at the chair in front of me - you seem, leaders of powerful groups like me are what you can call a pure blood. People who work for us are dirty blood, to enter Paradise you must prove you’re one of us or that you belong to us that way we keep things under control and away from any risks of being find.

- what happens if someone who’s not you or work for you tries to get in?

- well two scenes could happen - he said, taking a sip from the cup - you have a card that proves you belong to someone or you don’t, so you die.

- just like that?

- yes, we can’t risk our client’s safety - he said, eyes fallowing every part of my face for my reaction.

- is that why you gave me that card?

- that’s not the same thing, you gave me someone else’s card that someone didn’t wanted to belong anymore and used you to returned to me - he explained leaning forward to get closer, a smirk on his lips - by returning her card you automatically offered yourself to me.

- what?! - I gasped.

- I thought Scarlet told you that, that’s why I accepted you seeing your confusion now she must’ve not - he chuckled.

- but why would you even consider accepting me on the first place - I asked, this didn’t make any more sense to me. Why use such stupid method for something so serious?

- we needed a new mole and you just so happened to be there right on time - he mumbles - nothing especial.

I couldn’t face the smirk on his lips deciding to keep my focus on his hands instead as he played with the tip of the cup in front of him, the brown liquid melted the ice cubes on it smoke dancing around the air.

That woman knew exactly what would happened to me yet she didn’t utter a single word about it, she knew what all of that meant but didn’t told me anything. I could feel the anger building inside me, the more I thought about her face the more hate filled men nerves. I should’ve had noticed something was off, no one hands information that easily. That card she gave me then by Yoongis words meant she worked for him before, that’s how she knew were he was and Paradise. I wondered what kind of work he gave her, that would explain why he would need a woman.

I’m sure he could have better men do what ever job he wants yet, he choose me - actually he accepted as he said. Here I did everything he asked me, leaking information for him and even shoot someone for him and I’m still here. I wasn’t part of his world just a mere mistake, a mere side effect that happened because of my stupid choices and actions, was sleeping with me all he wanted? Why was I still here?

He sighted getting up from the chair walking around the desk to stop in front of me leaning over towards me his face mere inches away from mine, a cold chill running all over my skin as I turned my eyes back to the floor I couldn’t even look at him now. I didn’t even try to stop him from bringing me here he gave me his hand and I took it, I was the one who decided to shake hands with the devil.

My brother was a mere contributor for this to happen, t protect my brother I must live. I want to live. It is clear as the sky, who ever crosses Yoongis path will end up dead that gives me no choice but, honestly I couldn’t feel single bit of remorse about it. Not everyone in this world if a saint, everybody has their own secrets and share of misfortune, not everybody can play the hero but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to get your hands dirty a bit. Playing safe can only take somewhere, if you don’t take the risk and shake hands with the devil sometimes you’ll never be able to reach farther. I was tired of being the nice person, never saying no while everyone though they could walk over me.

I have to play smart if I want to keep breathing, I’ll gladly shake hands with him again in order to do that.

- the moment I saw you in that police station, I could tell you were born to be like me… you’re whole body aches for this. I see the potential in you, so why not under me? - he whispered, leaning towards me he looked me against the chair with both hands on rather side of me.

He slowly brushed my hair out of my face. Just like this morning I felt completely hypnotized by him, his words were poison disguised as sweet honey, dripping from his lips like he never spoke a lie.

He was giving me the opportunity to work for him, now is my chance to make this deal. Although I don’t completely agree with him or his methods.

- how would you know? - I breathless asked him, only for his smirk to grow even more. How could he just read me like that.

My body felt deeply attracted to his, every cell on my skin was aching to meet his but this wasn’t good for me. How could he know so much about me, when we only meet a few times? How could he read me so well to know who I’m?

All I did this whole time was to survive, to protect my brother. How was that because I’m like him?

- because… - he closed the distance between us, lips brushed over mine - anyone else would call the police already, you’re were not one of them so the right decision you should’ve made was to tell someone about all the things that happened. Stop lying to yourself y/n. You’re choices speak louder than all this bullshit you’re trying to put up.

- no, you used m y brother against me, I didn’t have a choice - I stared back into his pool of ice coffee iris.

- you and I both know you did, that night you didn’t have to come alone you didn’t have to come at all - he chuckled - use all this excuses to make yourself plausible, you think you can go back to your station and they will give you a big hug and flowers?

- I’m not like you…. - I said through my teeth.

- no… - he said amazed, hands closing around my chin to make look up into his eyes - you can’t ever be like me, I’m worst.

- what do want from me anyway? - I spat, taking his hand from my face.

- depends… what are you willing to do for me? - he retorted, standing up he walked back to his chair sitting down - can put a bunny to work for me if she won’t be able to hunt.

- I think you already know…. - the thought of the night before instantly flowing back to my mind. I was willing to shoot someone again if needed. But not willing to admit that out loud.

A moment of silence fell between us so thick you could cut with a knife. We were exposing our cards now, I had a stupid pair of threes of spades while he kept putting aces down. Each time. Every word coming out of his mouth just as sharp as a knife.

There was still one card I needed to get out of this play.

- why were you at the station that day? - I finally asked him - the night after we meet in downtown, you were at the station and then… you attacked the diretor of my… of the station.

- just some business…

- cut that bulshit! - I snap - you better start giving me answers!

- I don’t owe you nothing… your one of my dogs now - he said, tilting his head to the side a smirk on his lips mocking me - but if you wanna know so bad, and we’ll since you did used to work there I’ll tell you after your done with your job tonight.

- what about my brother? - I asked him, making him sight.

- humm… well, he owes me a lot of money - he smirked.

- I’ll pay for him… - I swallowed hard. The smirk immediately desapear from his face, he looked at me dead in the eye as if already expecting.

- who said I’d accept it?

- what? - my body immediately falling over the feeling of an exhausted helplessness. Why wouldn’t he accept? What does that even mean?

- he owes me…. Not you - he said, lighting another cigarette.

At that I scoffed.

- he’s my responsibility, I failed to protect him that’s why he’s like that now. - I tell him.

- trust me… it’s not your fault - he said, looking up to blow the smoke as if he knew something I don’t.

- just let me pay for him already… - I insisted.

- do you have the money? - he said impatiently.

- I’ll get it… - somehow I could. I didn’t even knew how much he owed them. Yet here I’m putting my neck on the line again.

- you don’t. - he cuts me off - which means you can only do one thing to pay your brothers debit.

I swallowed nervously. Cheeks hitting up.

- don’t worry… I don’t want you to pay it with sex - he chuckled, noticing my expression - that won’t bring my money back.

- no? I mean of course it won’t, I thought…

- you’ll stay here and work for me - he said - can’t risk that little mouth of yours outside anyways, especially when that Namjoon guy is searching everywhere for you.

The mention of Namjoon immediately brought my eyes back to his. He was searching for me? Why would he, after everything I’ve done. Only if he doesn’t know anything how I was the one who sabotage his whole operation. Maybe he does know, of course he does no one could beat him at the station he was the best investigator there he’s probably looking for me to put me behind bars.

- what’s with you and that guy anyway? - Yoongi asked, - he always seems so… are you and him, you know?

- no. - I immediately cut him off, anger boiling inside me at his insinuating - he is just… was a friend.

- i don’t really care about that… just making sure….

- I won’t tell him anything don’t worry, is not like I can he’s probably looking for me to lock me up - I interrupted him, this whole conversation turned upside down - he’ll do that if he finds me, I won’t make that mistake.

- good then. - he drank the whole liquid before putting the cigarette insides - you’ll be staying here from now.

- I need my things - I tell him, I can’t stay here without clothes and shampoo. It feels like prison.

- I’ll manege that don’t worry, - he said - I need you to be ready tonight though, we’ll go to paradise tonight I need to finish some business… I’ll use your excellent talent into finding people to get a rat that seems to be lost.

I only nodded. Of course that wouldn’t be any wait until I get used to all of this, someone like him must have his hands full of work he probably doesn’t spare any second to get into action.

Talent into finding people, he meant how I was so up his ass in the station to find him. I didn’t found him though, he was the one who found me.

That time, I was the rat.

[…]

If someone told me I would be working for the mafia years ago, I would have laughed at their face. I had trained my entire life to put guys like him under bars nothing could ever excuse all the thing their organization did to so many people, downtown has been the worse every since Agust D implanted himself here. But look at me now, working for him willing.

If I wanted to blame my brother for it, I could. All his irresponsible choices took me there to help him, if I didn’t went there to save him and actually called Namjoon for help would it be any different? But if I didn’t have gotten there, what if something happened to him? Any minute longer my brother would be dead in that day. Would Yoongi show up to help my brother? Why did he help us that night, more then that he took us to eat.

When he mentioned how much money brother owed him I saw how his eyes shined, he knew something I didn’t about my brother more then just his addiction maybe, but what could that be? How am I supposed to find that out now?

Yoongi is somehow connected to the police, that’s how he’s been able to clean his tracks. He probably has someone else there working for him, just like he did to me. What Jack told me about this unknown men is that he runaway somehow and then I was the one doing the dirty work, I’ve been working in that station for years and I never noticed anything strange but, how could I anyway. I was a mere cop and on top of it all a woman. They would never even talk to me.

Thinking about it now, I’m starting to understand why Yoongi choose me to work there for him. I was the perfect puppet for his play. For as long as I have been working as a cop at the station they never really treated me equally, never letting me join the real cases and always just giving the paper work besides all my capabilities and background they never even gave me a chance to prove what I could do. I was an outcast there, how would they notice me running around stealing information for the mafia, they couldn’t even look me in the same level. No one would expect it.

At this point I don’t even know where my judgment has come to, Yoongi is the bad guy. He is the evil that robs all are streets from seafty, this feeling of attraction can stop me from seeing him as who he truly is.

Maybe I’m not as good as I thought I was? Maybe he is right, I’m a bad person.

I know I can’t runaway from the path I choose but I don’t feel like running anymore. At the station no matter how good I was it was never enough, I would never be enough for them. This might not be the best path for someone to fallow, but I trust myself more then anyone in this world. I would never chose a path I can’t walk through, if I came here alive I’ll stay alive.

After I left Yoongis office mind still clouded with thoughts as I made my back to the room we had slept in, he said he would bring some of my clothes from my house soon also making sure no one knows about it and insured my brother wouldn’t knew either that someone went there, after that he only told me to be ready by 7pm. No details. Short and direct.

He wasn’t taking me out to eat, he gave me a mission. And if finding someone was all there was to it, it shouldn’t be so difficult? Besides is not like he asked me to end someone’s life.

A small clock was sat at the side table of the bed, I notice it was 3pm. The fact that it wouldn’t take much longer for me to start getting ready to go to Paradise again, made me nervous. This time was different then the other times I went there, those times I was set to get information to use against Yoongi and now I would have to get information for him it was complete different, I knew he was using this stupid mission to see if would be able to work under him, he was testing me. I was feed up with all this tests and mind games he kept playing to use me, but I could blame him a man in such position would never risk his empire over a a small inconvenience like me. I should’ve expected that from the beginning, he doesn’t put you into training like the police does to k ow you’re worth, he throws you in a ring and you better come out alive. I didn’t know how I would be able to do this, I agreed with him to do this. This time it was all my choice and deep down I knew it was my last test.

The police never once was able to enter paradise, not until I was. But I’m not a cop anymore. It wasn’t official but I doubt it would take much longer for my face to be on the news.

“Female cop join hands with the mafia, turns out she’s been giving out information to them and she was the cause of the long take to solve the case”

People would hate me. If my father was alive, he would probably put me in jail no second thought. But if he was alive, would I even be here now? My brother wouldn’t have choose that path, he wouldn’t owe Yoongi a single dollar. And I wouldn’t have had to save him that night. Still Yoongi had connections in the station, would we still meet me after all?

While I was walking around the room deep in my thoughts of how I completely destroyed my life, a few nocks on the door took me out of my mind completely. In a few seconds a maid entered the room with a tray of food, she seemed old a few grey hairs standing out at the sides of her perfectly made bun. She didn’t made eye contact with me not did she smiled.

- boss asked me to bring you some food, - with that she pulled the tray over the bed and turned back to me - your dress will be delivered soon as well your things.

With one last bow she turned back and left.

I looked over the food on the bed, it was two sandwiches and a orange juice. So soon I’ll go back to paradise, except this time I’ll be going with Agust D.

I didn’t wanted to think about anything anymore, right now more then ever I just wanted to throw everything in the air. I’m such a cowered. Things get tight and what do I do? Stupidly try to forget about it? I won’t ever be able to forget anything.

I could die any moment by the hands of Agust d right shoulder, Jack. Without any words he made it very clear that if I took some step slightly wrong, he would end my brother and I.

Not only is my brothers life on the line now but mine, and Namjoons.

A while later I was finally able to eat the food the maid brought me, my nervousness was beginning to make me weak and tonight I’ll need all the energy I have to complete this mission.

Good or bad a mission is still a mission. That’s what Namjoon would always said to me to make me feel better about all the paper work i was put to do. He knew better what a bad mission is like no one else.

After eating I decided to take a cold quick shower, just to wake up my body and muscles. Once I was done I walked back to the room only to find a few boxes around and a dress placed over the bed. I took a look closer to it taking the black silk into my hands, the tag flew out of its hiding spot and I gasped.

No he did not.

I immediately put it back on the bed.

Yoongi you little…. Why would you spend that much money on a dress like that?

I sighted holding my temple, no way I’ll wear that tonight. After recomposing myself I looked over the two boxes beside the bed. Opening one I found out my clothes in one, the other had all my personal necessities. He better not have sanded a men to get my underwear.

After looking around my clothes I decided to wear a simple black shirt and a dark colored jeans. If anything happens tonight I’ll be able to defend myself and move around without being noticed.

I took a few looks at myself on the mirror, the door of the room opened quickly starling me I turned back to find Yoongi. He must have showered already, hair a bit wet and styled back. He wore black as usual except for his white shirt underneath the coat. The minty and woody scent coming form him was enough to make you drunk on him. I cleared my throat as he continued to look at me up and down one eyebrow slightly raised.

- what are you wearing? - he asked, his sudden question making me look side to side.

- clothes?

- no obviously… - he rolled his eyes back walking up to me stoping a few feet away - you’re not wearing this tonight, right?

- yes I’m.

He only chuckled.

- put the dress on - he order, a serious expression over his features.

- no, I’m going there for work not partying - I tell him.

- you take things way to seriously…. - he said closing the distance between us - you’re not walking beside me in Paradise wearing that, otherwise I would t have bought that dress just to collect dust.

I gulped down. Dressed like this, of course he wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like like me there. I bet red haired woman was much better company then. I turned to side, trying to act as if his words didn’t make a difference to me, as if I wasn’t hurt by it. Over the mirror I catches him looking me up and down again before looking into my eyes one last time and turned back around. He sat lazily over the end of the bed, signaling to the dress.

I sighted. Walking towards the dress I took agryy making my way to the bathroom, the smirk on his face making me even more angry. Stupid Yoongi and stupid dress.

I took a deep breath before looking at the black silky dress, it was long with a v cut on the left to show the leg, long sleeves that exposed the shoulders small diamonds fallowing a v line over the chest, it left the back to show witch meant I wouldn’t be able to wear a bra with it. How am I supposed to work wearing this?

Forget it, I’ll just put it on to show him and then I’ll take it off.

A dress was the least of my problems now, so I didn’t thought about much after I put it on. Not taking another second I burst out of the bathroom standing in front of Yoongi as he looked up from the floor to me. I don’t know why I was so angry about this but it all seemed to deasapear once I locked eyes with him.

- happy now? - I asked him, closing my arms over my chest. Looking anywhere but him.

- much pleased… - he said. Getting up.

- no, you wanted me to put it on and I did I’ll change back now.

- why can’t you just wear the dress?

- you don’t know? - I asked him incredibly - how am I supposed to defend myself in this? What if I need to run? This isn’t the best disguise!

He walked back towards me, a chuckled leaving his lips once he stood in front of me. I felt so small now I could bearly look at him. How would he know. He’s man.

- you won’t have to defend yourself, I’ll be right there for you - he said, hand over my chin to look up at him - I won’t let anyone hurt you.

- if you do… I’ll hurt you then - at that he smirked.

- is a deal then - He said walking back - put on the shoes I got for you it will look better with the dress.

I looked at him incredulous, he meant the black stiletto over the bed? No way.

- you’ll get the dress I’ll choose the shoes - I tell him.

- fine, as long as it’s not a stupid converse - he said.

- what’s your problem with them? - I asked him as I sit down in the end of the bed.

- they’re just… too hard to take off - he said.

- hard to take… - i immediately stopped myself once I realized what he meant - of course.

I took my Dr. Martens boots and begin to put it on.

- you’re not wearing that - he said.

- yes I’m - I tell him one I’m done, looking up at him with arms closed over my chest - besides you won’t have to worry about taking them off of me tonight.

He chuckled looking down at me.

- I have one more thing for you - he said, walking back to me.

He stood in front of me before getting on his right knee, I looked at him confused until I saw him taking a knife out of his back, it was a tigh garter for one small knife.

- in case you need it - he said, taking my knee in his hand the v cut of the dress exposing my leg for him to slide the garter on my leg stoping over my tigh.

The small knife was secured under the black silk of my dress hidden away from anyone who might see it. He looked up to me, something in his eyes sparkle differently.

- thank you…

He only gave me a smirk, standing up to walk out of the room. I quickly recomposed myself fallowing him outside.

Something was telling me tonight wouldn’t be like any other night I was at paradise, I kept seeing red the more I thought about it even when I tried to push it away it came right back to me.

[…]

The ride to Paradise wasn’t a long one. I sat beside Yoongi on the black Range Rover, even the air seemed different as Jack drove to Paradise but I tried to play it off maybe it was the fact that now I was going to be there as Yoongi makes his business happen, the possibilities of what might happen at the end of this night kept sending a chill down my back. After we’re finally in front of the night club, Jack and his men fallowed behind me and Yoongi as we make or way towards the entrance of the building.

Expensive cars all over around the place like usual, people wearing the most extravagant clothes possible. Smoke in the air as well as the smell of strong woody and sweet perfume.

As Yoongi walked in front to enter the building I fallowed close behind. Tonight everything seemed a bit different, people looked different. Maybe it was all in my head, I wasn’t a very frequent person here anyway. My eyes kept running around as if looking for a shadow hiding in the dark, ready to take off my mask. Starle by the sudden touch behind my back, Iooking up to Yoongi as he moves closer to me.

- stand close to me - he whispered in my ear, hand sliding around my back to stop at my right hip.

I swallowed hard. Only nodding.

We pass the guards who immediately leave space for Yoongi to enter, no questions asked. No questions needed. Agust D is the owner of everything here.

The loud music burst through my ears once we are inside Paradise, it wasn’t as full as it usualy was people who walked past us were definitely not the same usual people. Different from the other times I was here there was less people walking around half naked, the music on the first floor was the usual and a few woman dressed in sexy langerie were doing pole dance in the middle of a set up platform of the place, some just like them were carrying drinks around or small foods in golden trays. The amount of men walking around this place with the same aura as Yoongi led me to think that this was a night only for high class members of the mafia and criminals such as them.

Almost like they knew Agust d was coming, a waitress stopped in front of us and Jack immediately took front to speak with him. A mere waitress can’t speak with Yoongi was what I though.

After talking with Jack the waitress lead us to we’re we where set, a table on the second floor that we’re separated from all the others by a big glass door as water fell from it to a small pound with koy fishes you could only see from outside.

Yoongi stopped before we entered, turning me to him by the hips he leaned over my ear.

- I need you to find someone called Jang Jun woo, he is here somewhere hiding like a rat - he whispered - he is good in desguise and is now working here using the name of Han Seo a waitress in Paradise. Go find him for me, once you do come back to me with his location.

I looked up to him as he leaned back, giving him a nod I turned back to leave not wanting to waste a second. The sooner I find the guy the sooner I can leave here.

I decided to start by the first floor were most of the waitress were at the bar there and not walking around, quickly making my way there I felt so thankful Yoongi didn’t throw a fit for the heels. Especially since I would have to run over the entire building.

The heavy beat of drums and guitar stared playing as slow rock music played in the background, I could feel it beat through my whole body. Nervous I felt not knowing what to do first, I wasn’t given much information about the person I had to find. I didn’t know his face. Only his name wasn’t much to help but maybe that’s what Yoongi wanted, to make things more difficult for me so I work harder to find the guy he wanted. Yoongi could have any of his men doing the work and it would be over in minutes but he just had to make me do this in order to test me. If I wanted to stay alive I would have to find this men he was looking for. To be honest I thought Yoongi might already know we’re he is and is only testing me to the bones with this stupid mission, what he’ll do with that men after is not my problem my job is to find him and bring Yoongi to him.

I sighted taking a seat at the bar stool, the wall behind the bar was shining bright made entirely from led lights panels the lights shined over all the different kinds of drinks placed over it the same decoration was build on the second floor as well, while I sat there I notice a few people talked with the waitress working over there. There was a total of six men working on this bar, on the other side of this floor closer to the platforms where another bar like this one I would have to inspect it as well.

If I start asking for names it would be suspicious, so first I decided to only observe them that way no one would notice me and neither would Han seo, two waitresses walked passed over me but their name tags were not the one I needed to find. After making sure I got all their names confirming th done I needed wasn’t there I got up walking to the other side were they worked serving the people in front of them, trying my best not to make obvious I serched for the name in their tags. None of them were the one I needed.

Of course it wouldn’t be easy to find him, I have a feeling word mush have gone out that Agust D was coming tonight, and if he’s trying to hide from Yoongi it won’t be as easy to find him.

Only woman were serving drinks around the first floor and after I made sure I checked all the waitresses on the bars, I sighted making my way to the second floor there were two bars on this floor just like the first one people here played poker and drank, there was no one dancing like the first floor and music here was always much calmer then down there, as I entered the second floor I watched every corner of it different from the first floor only men were serving drinks and food here, I can’t just walk around the entire place looking for this men. Not only would it Ben suspicious but entirely useless, I would just be wasting time if I just walk around here. With a sight I turned to the bar close to the entrance for the second floor, after you take the stairs to get here at the left side occupying the entire wall the other one was in the middle of the room a circle bar almost as big as yoongis bathroom I thought. A big chandelier over it shined a warm color covered in diamonds.

I instead made my way to the closest to the entrance taking a sit on a bar stool, I could feel eyes on me the entire time. Maybe Jack was watching giving Yoongi all the details about my stupid investigation how so far I didn’t have a single clue about the Han seo whereabouts, how anyone else could have already funded him if he have made the choice to put me here instead.

- I almost didn’t recognize you… - a voice I knew very well said behind me.

Turning around at the source of the voice I’m meet with a very known face, of course I would run on him somehow I always do.

- Jimin… - I gave him a small smile which he replied with one dripping mischief.

- you look… delicious- he said walking to me taking one of my hand up to his lips to leave a small kiss over it.

- thank you… but I’m here for work actually - I played along.

- ah, what a shame… - he pushed his hair back I notice the black gloves he wore, it shined under the lights as bit of sweat falling from his neck contrasted between the glitter over his skin.

Tonight he had a heavy dark make up covering his eyes, the white shirt slightly button up as usual showing off his skin underneath it and black vinyl pants tightly hugging his legs. So many accessories over his neck shined under the blue lights, he didn’t let go of my hand standing beside me on the bar closing completely the distance between us. A lot had happened between us the last time I was here but, now I couldn’t let his beautiful face distract me it wasn’t the right time for it specially with everything going on.

It didn’t help how good he looked right now to say no, Jimin always seemed to have a way with people his words laced with sweetness he never said the wrong thing, always managing to get exactly what he wants eyes filled with dirtiness alcohol on his breath mixed with the strong scent of Chanel coming from his body he was breathtaking, I was sure there was not a single night were he wasn’t here at Paradise maybe I could take a few words from him since he’s always here. In the end of the night he might be very helpful.

Once I smiled back at him he asked for one of the waitress my eyes immediately falling over his name tag, but just my luck it was not the one I was looking for.

- whiskey for me, lots of ice please is too hot tonight - he smirked while looking back at me, his eyes shined brighter as he took in my features - and for my darling here…

- champagne, please - I answered.

- champagne it is …. - he smirked at me.

The waitress took our orders and walked back to prepare them.

- I saw you entering with Agust d… - Jimin coments - so you really are working with him?

- it seems like it doesn’t it?

- I better watch out then…. He doesn’t like sharing toys - Jimin said, a knowing smile growing over his full lips. He was looking for my reaction, trying to read between the lines. As much lovely as he might presents himself, Jimin wasn’t a fool I could tell he knew exactly what he was doing and with who he was talking.

- I’m not his toy… - I simply said eyes running over the waitress at the bar, feelinghis hold over my hand tightened making me look back into his smoky eyes.

- so he didn’t send you here for a stupid little mission…. - he said.

His words making my checks immediately heat up, he knew. Of course he would know. I wasn’t the first one to be in this exact position and not will I be the last one, sooner or later Yoongi would find someone else to take my place. Tonight might just be that time he’ll choose someone else to if I fail this stupid test.

The waitress soon puts our drinks down in front of us, Jimin immediately drinks half of his before turning to me completely leaning closer to whispered behind my ear.

- maybe I can help you? - the smirk danced over his lips full of mischief.

I didn’t know if I could fully trust him, but right now I had nothing on the guy Yoongi wanted me to find and since Jimin seemed to be so whiling to help I might as well just play along with it, something’s only a woman can do.

- can you? - I whisper back leaning towards him, hand slight dancing over his jaw to bring him closer. He seemed completely out of it, eyes looking up to mine and down my lips.

We’ve been here before, I hated to use the words but he was so easy to use. Anyone could get anything from him with just a few touches, Jimin was the type to exchange information for pleasure for that reason I couldn’t trust him completely but for now, that is exactly what I need.

- your wish is my command - he said against my lips.

I turned to whispered in his ear, making sure to run the tip of my nose over his neck.

- I’m trying to find a little rat that escaped.

- oh, I sure can help you with it. - he said, - nothing happens here that I don’t know about it.

- good kitty - I run my fingers through his hair, he smiles softly. The pet name rolling down my tongue, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing but it was working.

- who do you need - he murmured over my ear, I could see goosebumps running down his skin.

- a guy named Jang Jun woo, I heard his working here under the name Han seo do you know anything about it? - I asked him, running my hand over his arm.

- oh that guy…. What do you need him for? - he asked.

- just talking, he’s been running away I’m a bit worried about him… - I played.

- I see… i can ask for him here, he’s working in the kitchen now - he said, that fact that he knew so well about this guy didn’t went past me.

- how do you know this? - I asked. He leaned back a smirk over his lips as he stared down at me.

- I know the owner of this place, you can say… we’re pretty close - he said, taking his phone out of pocket.

He knew the owner of Paradise, that meant Yoongi wasn’t the one who ruled this place. Then who is it?

Shaking that thought form my mind for now, my focus was back at the mission in front of me. I still had to think of a way to make sure Yoongi could get Jun woo without him running away, that meant I would have to immobilize him completely. A plan was already forming in my head as I stared at Jimin.

- could ask Han seo to prepare a room for me on the thrid floor? - I ask him, running my fingers over his neck down his chest stoping over a button. Eyes looked with his.

- of course I can… but I thought you just needed to talk with him? - he said.

- don’t worry about it… it’s not him who I want now - Jimin was so easy to play with, with only a few words and a touch here and there I could get anything from him.

I felt bad to use him like this, but not everyone is good in this world. I’ll use whoever I need to and I’ll do what ever I need to, I can’t back down now form this. Yoongi can have anyone doing this for him, that means I’m replaceable if I don’t show him I can do this my head will becut off before I can even try to runaway.

- I’ll get it ready right now then… - he said.

- good kitty… - I left a small peck over his cheek.

- only for you - he took his phone out calling someone - hey Tae, can you ask that Han seo guy to get a room ready for me?

I watched as he talked on the phone.

Tae. Another new name I have to save for later, once I finish this I’m sure I’ll have more questions for Yoongi. That is if I finish this job before Jack puts a bullet in my head. The thought that this might be my last chance wasn’t gone completely from my mind, it definitely didn’t help to know a guy such as him was ready to take me out so easily.

- thanks man… - he turned off the phone - is done, just wait a few minutes I’ll go upstairs with you.

- ok, thank you - I tell him.

- no need, everything for my pretty girl - he laced one arm over my waist bringing me closer, eyes glued to my lips.

- by the way who were talking too? - I change the subject quickly before i give into the temptation of his juicy lips, the longer I was here with him the harder it was to stand there and not grab him by the neck. His captivating aura definitely didn’t help.

- Tae? Oh he’s… how can I tell you? The boss here? - he took the cup with liquid on drinking the entire thing a big gulp.

- so he owes Paradise?

- since you are in our side now… I’ll tell you - he leaned closer - Agust handed Paradise for him personally…. Taes Father was close to Agust like a parent I would say, they are like brothers now.

- oh , I’ll trust him then…

He only gave me a smile, I took a sip of the champagne looking around I could see Yoongis men all over the place to protect him or to make sure I do my job and don’t runaway. I was sure it was the second option. The more I thought about him the more questions raised in my mind, Yoongi had this connection with a guy named Tae, who he handed Paradise to all because he was close with the guys father. The thought made think that somewhere deep down his nonexistent heart was something still human in him, why could he do such thing if not. It was hard to believe though but part of me couldn’t help see something good in him after the sudden information. Nobody knows anything about Yoongi, they all fear him though. I know no one is born a monster, so what happened to him that made him be one?

After we have our drinks Jimin gets up holding a hand out for me to take, I did letting him guide me he said the room was ready and the guy Han seo was waiting there so we made our ways to the third floor.

My heart was beating faster in my chest the closer we got to the corridor the music started to feel deafening, I had no idea what I would do from the moment I step foot in that room. The walls of the corridor felt smaller the deeper we made our way in, stoping in front of a door I looked at the number 226 in gold over the dark wood. I didn’t know how I would go from here, what was I supposed to do with the guy since he’s been hiding from Yoongi there is a good chance he will try to scape. I would have to be very careful about this, I just need to make sure he stays there until Yoongi comes up here.

With that all in mind I opened the door, the guy had his back to me when I entered he was quietly fixing the bed then moved to fix a bottle of champagne over it. Once he turned starlet by my presence he gave me a bow, quickly making his way to leave. Close enough for me to see his name tag, I relief fill my body.

Han seo shined over the simple tag name. Before he could take another step o took his arm into mine.

- Agust D has business with you Jun woo - I tell him.

I didn’t know his face but the desparation in his eyes as soon as I mention Yoongi and his real name were enough prof. He’s the one I needed to find. Hetried to dogged me and leave the room but i held his arm tighter pushing him over I used my leg to make him fall, holding his arm up with my feat over his shoulder into breaking I forced my feat on him twisting his arm to the right until I hear him groaning at the pain, I stepped over his face.

- quiet! Or I’ll break your arm off - I tell him, getting another painful groan form him.

- what are you doing? - Jimin entered the room, eyes changing from me to the guy on the floor.

- he tried to scape…. - I tell him.

- oh yeah?

- don’t look at me like that - I angrily tell him - you know who I work for, now get something to tied him up now!

He murmured a “ok” and quickly moved around the room to find something to tie the guy, I kept my hold over his arm until Jimin finally bring me the golden ties of the curtains. The guy tried to run away again once I released his arm to tie him but I quickly nocked him out by kicking him in the face. Surprise at my own actions i quickly began to tied up the guy, he lazily kept trying to stop me but I held him still with my feet over his back. One I was sure he wouldn’t be able to get out of the, I turned back to Jimin.

- can I have your phone please? - he nodded handing it to me.

I moved to the guy, taking his cap off I took a pic of his face with the flash on. I had to make sure he was the guy Yoongi was looking for.

- Jimin… can you make sure he stays here like this and not escape? I’ll be back soon - I tell him.

- I wouldn’t dare to disobey - he said, a chuckled coming from his lips - I’ll make sure the rat doesn’t move.

- thanks kitty - I tell him.

I quickly left the room making my way out of the corridor down the stairs to the second floor, adrenaline filling my whole body. Is that how it feels when you get the bad guys? Namjoon must always feel so great after having a mission completed. A small smile made its way to my lips unconsciously, I shouldn’t feel this way but it was still a way of getting back at the bad guys. At least that would be my sense of accomplishment for now.

Quickly making my way we’re back to the second floor where Yoongi was, I had to get there fast before the guy upstairs try anything funny with Jimin. It wouldn’t be nice to let him get in the middle of this whole situation, although he did help me get the guy there. Once I was close enough to the separate table in the corner were I last went with Yoongi I notice a shadow of someone’s head behind the glass wall there, it seemed he had some company there or there then Jack now. Walking past the body guard I made my way inside there seeing as Yoongi sat comfortably on the armchair at the corner, Jack sat at the bigger purple sofa beside Yoongi and over the other side were the glass door was a man a never saw before sat in front of Jack.

Knowing the guy could escape i quickly made my way to Yoongi.

- is it him? - I showed him the picture I took with Jimins phone.

He took the phone from me a smirk forming on his lips as he passed the phone to Jack.

- hes on the thrid floor room 226 - I tell Yoongi.

- very well then, get things ready - he said to Jack who immediately stood up and went out of there with the body guards.

I watched as Yoongi leans back looking me from up and down the smirk never leaving his lips, he holds his hand out for me which i carefully took it, feeling hm ouch me down to sit over his lap hand holding my exposed back to support me the simple touch immediately sanded chills down my spine.

- wanna drink something? - he suddenly asked me.

- no I already had champagne - I tell him, moving my arm around his shoulder.

- yeah I heard… - he said moving a strand of hair behind my ear.

So he was watching me the entire time, my suspicions were right. All of those guards of his were not there to protect him but to keep an eye on my every move. This whole job was a test indeed, I knew that from the beginning. The mocking sound of his voice had more then just a confirmation of this, he knew about me and Jimin.

- this guy here is Chris - he says - he works for me in downtown.

He pointed at the men sitting there, the man held his glass up for me a smile on his face the guy seemed to be in his forties or so, the half done beard and wet blonde hair with a few strands of white were slightly pushed back he wore a red shirt half bottom up exposing the big golden chain around his neck, cigarette on his right hand and a cup with whiskey on the other hand.

His eyes kept running up and down my legs the entire time ever since I walked in, disgust instantly filling me up. That’s why I hate wearing dresses like this, men always look at you like you’re just a piece of meet in a showcase with their little to nonexistent brain think they can get anything from you just because your showing some skin.

I wanted to throw up.

- I see you have a new bitch, does Scarlet knows? - he said, smoke leaving his lips as he takes a sip of the golden liquid on his cup.

- she was the one who left - Yoongi said, hand closing around my knee exposed by the dress slightly moving up - why would I waste my time?

- does this beauty have a name? - he said, making my eyes go back to his disgusting face I catch him eyeing me again.

- not your business- i spat at him, I didn’t care if he was one of Yoongis men or what ever. I was tired of this whole situation.

- oh feisty, for just a another bitch…. just acompaning you Agust? - he said as if I wasn’t there, finally looking away from and at Yoongi beside me.

Rage was boiling over me, I still had the adrenaline from earlier running through my whole body just looking at the disgusting face of Chris was enough to make my blood boil. This place was not different from the station, men still had no respect for woman he must not know what I’m capable of and right now neither do I know what I’m capable of doing if he keeps talking to me like I’m just, a bitch.

The feeling of Yoongis fingers sliding over my thigh towards the knife he gave me before was the only thing that brought me back to my control, immediately looking back to his face as he leaned over my ear.

- should I cut off his toungue? - Yoongi whispered on my ear, hand stoping above the knife, ready to take it.

Although his words sanded a chill down my body, for a second there I felt important. I don’t know what made him say that, the fact that the guy has only been disrespectful towards me and not him shouldn’t be enough for him to cut off his tongue for me. Still he was right there ready to take matter into his hands.

With a heart racing on my chest I slightly brushed my fingers over the hairs at the back of his neck, feeling his breathing deepening at the small touch. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment then to see that guy regretting his words.

- maybe… doesn’t he needs to talk business with you though? - I tell him, turning back to him. - you can do it afterwards.

I’ve never felt so much rage before, I hated this type of guys.

- right… - he said to me. Hand sliding off the knife. I had no doubt he would cut off the guy. Right now I had enough on my plate for such show.

He leaned back eyes staring bored at the guy in front of him, Chris cleaned his throat before sitting straight into his seat.

- so did you find the rat you were talking about? - he asked Yoongi.

- I’m still looking…. You see he’s been hiding very well - Yoongi said. Hand sliding up my back slowly eyes glued to the men’s in front of him. Something seemed different between them.

They were talking about the guy upstairs and if Yoongi just lied about not finding him, it must mean this guy had something to do with Jun woo. Could it be he was also behind this all? Is that why Yoongi is meeting with him tonight the same date as he’s getting back at Jun woo?

Shit. This was going to be a long night.

- doesn’t seem like your stressing yourself much over that… - Chris guy said.

- I have someone looking over it soon he’ll be dead - at Yoongis words I immediately freeze.

I shouldn’t be surprised things would end this way, that’s why he sanded Jack over there to finish the job.

- should we have a toast old friend? - said Chris - here I got you your favorite straight from the business.

A woman with a tray with drinks suddenly enters taking me complete from my thoughts, she wear a black tube dress handing a new drink for Chris before making her way over to Yoongi a cup with dark liquid the strong scent of it which I could tell was definitely whiskey. As he reach to get the cup from her I watched her eyeing him almost rolling my own eyes but before I can even think about it I notice the small pill at the bottom of the cup at making bubbles almost unnoticeable as the ice inside it covered the pill. I’ve seen it many cases with drugs like this at the station and suddenly everything began to connect in my mind.

People here were definitely different from the other times I was here, everyone were important mafia members knowing who with not single doubt know how powerful Yoongi was of course someone would try to take him down. Especially a guy that seemed to be working with the little rat Yoongi was about to kill.

Anger immediately boiled me up, I didn’t think for a second before I take the cup from Yoongis hand as I stood up, throwing it over the table in the middle starling every one around it. In a second I took my knife out of my garter as I made my way to Chris grabbing the man’s face I hold the sharp metal against his cheek.

- how dare you! - I accused him. He groaned eyes searching up for Yoongi behind me. - what’s on his cup? You better tell me now or all cut your face off!

For a moment I saw fear in his face, he looked desperate at Yoongi before my actions but at the mention of the drug on his cup all the fear seemed to dissipate from his face as he only laughed. The sound of his laughter turned a switch on my mind, I no longer could hold it anymore I was simply tired of hearing them laugh at me. With no second thoughts I held the knife tighter over his skin slowly cutting his face as blood started to drip from it.

I could tell Yoongi just sat there watching probably amused by the sight clearly entertained by it, the security guards entered the room but were quickly signaled to back off by him.

From the corner of my eyes I notice Jacks presence there as well, right just in time.

- just ecstasy…. - Chris mumbles under me, he laughed sickly - seems like the bitch doesn’t know her men… silly girl…

Anger boiled over every cell in my body, any idea of sanity I had was gone in that moment. If they don’t know what I’m capable of, I’ll gladly show them.

- seems like you are the one who doesn’t know your place…. - i tell him - let me remind you.

In that split of seconds I catcher that glimpse of fear again that I so desperately was looking for, he didn’t expect me to go further and he didn’t thought for a second Yoongi wouldn’t stop me and with that i cut half his face with the knife Yoongi gave me, deep enough to leave a scar. He groaned out loud, blood pouring from his face as he desperately tried to cover with his hands, I didn’t bother to look at Yoongi in that moment I was pissed at him as well for some reason, putting the knife back at the garter on my thigh I walked out passing beside Jack who stood there at the entrance of the small room ignoring the his hard stare over me I quickly made my way towards the round bar in the middle of the place anger still boiling inside of me. I was tired of men thinking they could laugh at me in the face.

I asked for a new drink for Yoongi, it was still rude of me for that but I couldn’t risk his life like that. Jack would immediately cut every bone in my body if I did. I was lucky he wasn’t there when the commotions stared.

When working as a cop you can’t do such thing to your culprits, you can’t cut half their face just to show who is in control but here is not like this. In Paradise everyone had dirty secrets so many mafia members walk around no one feared to say anything to them, is basically like a swim with sharks if you bleed they will treat you like a prey. I can’t bleed. So I have to ensure I’m not the prey.

Once the waitress gave the new drink for Yoongi I took it with me as I made my way back there. Stopping before the entrance as I heard their voices.

- you need to control your bitch Agust! - Chris spat.

- you need to control your mouth - yoongi responded. There was a minute of silence between them.

I didn’t expect him to take my side. I honestly thought he would put a bullet through my head for doing that to his guest. Although he did asked me if i wanted him to cut his tongue off for calling me that before. That thought gave me some confidence as I finally entered there.

Yoongis eyes looking straight back to mine, regardless of everything the presence of that Chris guy was still a reminder of my anger dripping through every cell of my body. He disgusted me completely. I notice Jack was now back at his sit from before, he looked me up seriousness over his features before looking back at Chris in front of him. Making my way back to Yoongi a sat over his lap handing him the cup with whisky.

He took it giving me a smirk, eyes still not leaving mine. I couldn’t tell if it wasn’t just because the lights were slightly deeming here or if it was just him but, he just looked at me completely different now. I’ve seen those eyes before, the same eyes looked at me last night when he brought to his house after I shoot a police detective for him. The same eyes who so desperately looking into mine when he held a knife over my neck.

He drank the whole liquid on the cup still never breaking eye contact, giving me the now empty cup I put it over the table in the middle.

- you haven’t been much faithful Chris…. - yoongi said, looking back at Chris who still held his bloody face - you should’ve known better Chris then to try anything against me, after all you know who I am.

At that the men fell silent, frozen completely under Yoongis hard gaze. He was holding a napkin over the cut a big blood stain covered the white fabric.

The Chris guy was indeed working with that Jun woo behind Yoongis back, I don’t know what they had up gains him but it didn’t took longer for Yoongi to find out their dirty tricks. I’ve always knew Agust d was always one step ahead of all his enemies and who ever tried to confront him he would cut them off immediately no second chances, every one at the station always talked about his ruthless actions against those who tried.

The more I thought about this guy trying something against Yoongi the more I questioned if that drug on his cup was really just ecstasy, for all I know he could be lying in that moment just to save his own ass.

I looked over the table where I threw the whisky on his cup, a few cubes of ice still melting there as well as the pill.

- you’re lucky she only cut half your face… - yoongi chuckled - I would’ve cut your head off.

- I’m sorry Agust D - the guy said, eyes locked on the floor - it won’t happen again.

- no… it won’t. - Yoongi said - now if you excuse me… I have some business to take care of.

I got from his lap as he stood up behind me, hand holding my hip as Yoongi guided me to the way out. Jack fallowed behind us as well as some of the bodyguards from before.

We made our way through the people around the second floor, towards the stairs for the third floor I thought he sensed Jack there to end the job why would we go there again? Unless he was the one who wanted to end it, maybe he just some information from the guy I doubt he would kill him before getting anything from him.

I turned to Yoongi.

- sorry for your drink - I tell him, to which he gave me a smirk eyes locked with mine.

- why? You were only protecting me, right? - he said, I only nodded making him lean over my ear - besides a love when my woman knows how to use a knife…

I gulped down looking ahead of me instead, we walked past the stairs to the third floor making our way to the room 226.

Yoongi had me beside him the entire way to the room, once we got there one of his body guards were standing in front of the door. He opened the door as soon as he saw us walinking there and Yoongi entered before me.

The lights of the room were all turned on and soon I’m meet with the guy Han seo or Jun woo tied up on a chair, hands behind his back and a few bruises over his face that it wasn’t my doing for sure. On the other side I notice Jimin was still there, he looked at me then Yoongi giving him a bow, yoongi nooded to him making his way to the man tied up.

I decided to stand closer to Jimin, my only mission was to bring Yoongi to the guy Han seo. So I just stood there watching them.

- Jun woo… - Yoongi mocked his name, tilting his head to the side looking the guy up and down - I expected a lot from you, you really thought that hiding in here was a good idea?

- please Agust this is only a misunderstanding…. I - before he could finish his Jack gave him a punch in the jaw.

- He didn’t finish - Jack state as the guy on the chair spilled more blood on the floor.

One of the body guards pulled a chair in front of the guy, Yoongi took the seat there as Jack handed a big knife to him, it seemed to be a hunting knife.

I bite down my bottom lip, he’ll torture him.

- I’ve been informed you have been leaking information about my business to the police, - Yoongi began, playing around with the knife in his hand like the most beautiful toy he had - we almost got caught last night due to your…. big mouth Han seo.

Yoongi chuckled mentioning his fake name, eyes locked with the knife in hands as he moved it around his fingers.

The guy in front of him scoffed, yoongi had a weird smile on his face as he looked up from the knife to the men in front of him. I’ve never seen him like that, completely out of it like a beast. The Agust d everyone feared was right there, ready to take down someone.

- you mean to tell me the Agust d almost went down last night? - he looked up to the ceiling, a broken laugh leaving his lips but he stopped as more blood came form his throat. - if I knew I’d end up like this… maybe I should’ve exposed your business with at Busan. That Namjoon guy was quicker then I thought.

At the mention of Namjoon my eyes instantly went to the guy. So that’s how he managed to get the information, he’s the one Namjoon mentioned to me before that’s how he was able to set the trap for Yoongi last night. No wonder he didn’t wanted to wait before coming here and get him himself, the guy could leave even more info about him to Namjoon at any moment who knows what he might already have leaked to him, the only thing that still didn’t made sense to me was why would he be so stupid to even try to betray Yoongi like that? Nothing ever seemed to pass by Yoongi that he didn’t already know so why even bother to try?

I was sure that even if I didn’t have appeared last night and shoot that guy, he would still managed to find a way out of that Yoongi wasn’t alone that night he had Jack, who seemed way to calm for someone who knew that was a trap. I was the one going out of my own way and making a scene.

- I’ll die anyway tonight, you must be wanting to know what I told them - he chuckled - find out by yourself Agust d.

There was a cold feeling lingering around the room, a smoke invisible but very present. What ever that guy have against Yoongi he already shared with Namjoon. Things can only get more messy from now, Namjoon will never stop until he gets Agust d head in a silver tray.

My eyes darted to Jack, he had a clenched jaw as he stared at the man tied up. Hand rest over the pistol on his back ready to end him for his boss if needed, the smoke lingering around was ruthless death was definitely around here now.

Yoongi sat there expressionless although, I didn’t know if he was pissed at all of this or already had everything figured it out. The mention of a that S guy certenly brought some reactions, the more time I spend with in here the more mysterious people I find out who are participating in this game, Yoongi didn’t seemed to like the mention of that supposed business he had in Busan made him look even more harsh a stone cold gaze in his eyes that burned over the guy in front of him, I notice how Jimin and Jack shared a look in that moment Busan was mentioned. So Jimin is more involved with Yoongi then I tought if he knows such thing, it made me even more curious.

- tell me Agust… was your new bodyguard who saved your ass last night? - Han seo leaned closer to Yoongi as he said that, a smile filled with secrets as he looked at Yoongi before turning to me - the cop Namjoon told me about you.

At that I unconsciously took a step closer immediately being held back by Jimin, what in the world was Namjoon blabbing about me to that guy?

- he’s up your ass pretty lady - he said leaning back against the chair - I wonder what he’ll do to you once he finds out about your late night job with his enemy.

Jack once again gave him another punch in the jaw making the guy spat more blood on the floor.

- well I didn’t come here to chat - Yoongi said, getting up from the chair - I don’t need to find anything out anyways, I know everything already.

Even his movements were enough to send chills down my whole body, every cell on my skin knew what was going to unfold right now but still, I could believe even now right under my eyes as he carefully walked over to the men tied up.

Why did I have to come here too?

- of course you do… - Han seo said, coughing more blood as he turned back to me - at least I’ll die looking at a beautiful woman.

+++

In a second Yoongi flashed the knife at the men’s right eye, a gasp leaving my lips as I watched him grabbing the man’s jaw who screamed in pain, Yoongi took the knife out of his eye making more blood splash everywhere at the motion. The man screamed out once again from the pain as Yoongin didn’t stop there and flashed the knife at the men again.

I turned back not being able to look at it any longer, I knew what would happen next but I just couldn’t look at it. The sound the men was making were horrible as well as the strong smell of iron filling the entire room, it didn’t stop.

I felt two hands closed over my body and immediately froze on the spot but soon calmed down once I notice it was Jimin who held me against his chest, not to look at the torture.

I could still hear the sound of the men’s groaning in pain, as well as the knife slicing against him again and again. Yoongis hard breathing as he kept going non stop, I tried to cover my ears and block the noise but nothing helped he just kept screaming until no sound was heard anymore only the blade falling on the floor echoing through the room.

+++

- you two know what to do - was Jack who said the order.

After that Jimin held me against him more tightly as he made his way out of the room with me, I didn’t move an inch away from him until I could finally heard the music form the second floor and and my lungs were filled with the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, slowly I leaned back from Jimin as my vision was finally meet with the long dark corridor of the third floor.

My stomach kept doing flips, the sandwich I had earlier was trying to come out the disgusting smell of blood still all over my nostrils.

I embraced Jimin tighter my only attempt into sinking into his Chanel perfume, trying my best to forget that disgusting smell of iron.

- let’s go seems like you need a drink - Jimin said over my ear. I only nooded against him.

With that he walked me out of the thrid floor and I kept myself glued to his body, I needed anything to get out of that murder scene.

Jimin brought me back to the bar we were sat before, I sat over the bar stool as he stood there beside me asking for a drink to the bartender who immediately got his order and began to make the drink.

In that moment I simply couldn’t make any thoughts, my mind felt completely blank. Suddenly a wave of cold air hitting my entire body making me hug myself in search of warmth, i knew exactly what was going to happens yet I couldn’t control my feelings about it.

This was his world. This is Yoongis world. I definitely was not ready for it.

- will you be okay? - Jimin said, pushing my hair behind my ear - you look a little pale.

- I don’t like seeing blood… - I tell him, still feeling my stomach ache.

- oh, then you’re in the wrong place - he said, eyes shining under the blue and purple lights over our heads a small smile making way over his lips.

He’s right.

I’m at the wrong place. I should’ve been at home now, making dinner for me and my brother, cleaning my clothes to work tomorrow at the station. Setting up my alarm for 5am. Not here.

Not at his world but mine but I have up that world the day I decided to take him down and this is what happens to any one who ties that.

At least it wasn’t me in that chair. I tried with every cell in my body to think that guy deserved that, he was just a criminal after all I shouldn’t feel bad about that. It was all bound to happen since he choose to join hands with the police.

I just wanted to forget everything, like the coward I was whenever things got dirty.

Looking up to find Jimins dark eyes shining under those colorful lights, I wondered what in the hell was going on his mind when he let me inside that night.

- the first time I came here… - I began - why did you help me get inside? I’m sure you wouldn’t let just anyone in knowing how important the people here are.

- to be honest… - he said - I thought you looked hot, riding that motorcycle and if you happened to be trouble I would just… you know.

- oh… of course - I cleared my throat - so you liked me because I ride?

- no… - he chuckled - gosh do you really not know how sexy you look? After I saw tonight I don’t think I can’t just forget you yn. You’re my type.

If nothing had happened just a few minutes ago, I would have believed him. Deep down I know he was just trying to make me forget about what just happened, filling me with compliments and smiling at me like nothing else matter.

- your type…

- I mean I would try to kill you if turned out to be trouble that night - he said, fingers brushing my cheek softly - but I was sure I would be the one in trouble if I did so that’s what I like that about you.

- well I’m a…- I immediately stopped myself realizing I almost told him I was a police intern, sighting I corrected my self quickly - I’m in the Agust D mafia.

- you’re not one of them y/n - Jimin said, his hand resting over mine the smile quickly fading from his lips replaced by a look a knew very well - you should leave this before is too late, save yourself y/n you weren’t made for this world.

My eyes were burning as I looked into his, that face I knew so well was the same I saw on peoples faces at after my parents death, in that exact second I realized what he meant I felt that chill run down my spine the moment his eyes locked with mine, he knew. He knew everything about me being a police intern an yet still helped me.

- here is your drink - the bartender interrupted.

I didn’t think twice before getting the cup with a red liquid, drinking it all in one gulp. I felt like I could cry at any moment and I didn’t wanted that to happen. How weak of me. This is what I wanted my whole life, to be taken serious and get the real job done.

Now that I’m watching everything from so close, i couldn’t help but feel this overwhelming anguish over me, I couldn’t let myself go down so easily though. I can’t back down anyways, I had so much to lose if I did so not matter what anyone says I’m the only one who can do this, it doesn’t matter what Namjoon thinks about me. I won’t let Jack kill me or my brother, I’ll pay for his debt with my dirty work. Whatever happens in the future I’ll deal with it when it comes.

I felt so tired of people getting in the way of my choices, I’m the one who made this mess. I’m done trying to come clean with all this situation, I have a reason for this and my choices were not made recklessly.

The perception I needed from all of this finally seemed to make sense to me.

- I can’t leave, I have to pay a debit - I tell him, feeling bitter as I tried to smile at him.

Turning my eyes away from his to the now empty cup in my hand, the taste of alcohol burning my throat. I heard him sight before he turned me to look at him again.

- don’t let your guard down then y/n - he said, letting go of my hand. I notice his eyes looked at something behind me. - your boss is here.

I didn’t look behind to know he meant Yoongi but, I didn’t dare to look at him I could bearly move an inch without thinking about what he just did, I still couldn’t make out what to even think about it. Before I could even get down from the stool he was right there beside me, one hand quickly sliding over my back just like he did before. Turning slightly towards him o notice he changed clothes too he didn’t wore the white shirt anymore but a black one, no sign of blood on him nothing he was all clean again, smelling he’s usual minty perfume.

He looked up at Jimin giving him a nod witch Jimin replied with the same action before making his way out, I feel Yoongi sliding his fingers over my chin to look up at him.

Tracing every centimeter of his features with my eyes, searching for any signs of a murder on him I find none. Just the usual scar face I was used too, the smirk dancing over his lips like always he caressed my cheek before holding me against him as we walk out of there, making our way to the first floor.

- you’re friend came here before us - he suddenly mentioned.

Friend?

- what do you mean? - I asked him.

- the detective… Was it Namjoon his name? - as the words left his lips my body went immediately cold.

Namjoon were here? How could he? It just didn’t make any sense unless he used Han seo to get in here I couldn’t think of any way.

- that guy you…. - I paused immediately, still feeling uncomfortable at the thought - Han seo was the one giving info to the police?

- yes, but he didn’t do it alone - he said as we walked to the exit of the building - he was simply a pawn being used to get to me by someone else.

- that Chris guy?

- you’re getting the hang of it already… - he praised, smirk over his lips as he held me by the side closer.

I only gulped down. Strangely enough being complimented by Yoongi always felt like a tease as he always made it sound like that, an air of “oh so are you really?” Always coming from him deep down.

A dark cloud seemed to close around us both as we exit the building.

- how far will you go to pay for your brothers debt? - he asked over my ear, his voice sounding much deeper now.

I felt my whole body tremble, warning signs shooting from every direction as his words sink down on my mind.

We soon walked out of the building, the cold air hitting me in the face was like a bucket of water waking me up completely form my fuzzy mind.

His offering felt uncanny, something seemed to have hanged in his demeanor as he spilled the words. Why would he say that now out of every moment?

- whatever it takes to save him - I tell him, already regretting my honesty - name your price.

Holding my chin up he urned my face to the side guiding my eyes on the target standing ahead us, I spotted the figure of the Chris guy from earlier and he seemed to be talking with someone on the phone with a few bodyguards around him as one held the door for a black Mercedes opened for him.

No wonder Yoongi would want that guy out too, it was clear that men was working against Yoongi and from what i could tell hes the one who’s been helping Namjoon to get him. He must think that by working with him hell be able to take Yoongi down and claim his empire all to himself.

I turned back to yoongi his eyes held a cold light over them as he locked them over mine his signature smirk already forming over his lips like usual, the scar looked seemed more darker this time. Something about him had changed completely ever since we step foot in Paradise tonight and I wondered if he had this all planed even fore we leave the mansion.

- kill him and your brother will be free.

I felt all the air from my lungs leave me completely, feeling helpless under his eyes. He had this all set up from the beginning, I could tell just by the look in his eyes. This was the test he had set up for me not finding Han seo but actually killing Chris, the real culprit. The one behind Namjoons entrance at Paradise and leak of informations about Agust d.

The price for my brothers freedom was just a few feet away from me.

I didn’t know when it came to this, when everything turned so fuzzy like a dream. When my hand slided over Yoongis shoulder towards his hip we’re I knew from the beginning he had his silver pistol, when my fingers closed around the cold metal as we walked out of Paradise. When I stoped in front of the black Mercedes, my mind was completely clouded like my body wasn’t mine anymore.

The blonde, Chris turned back to us eyes looking over at Yoongi behind me in desperation as he soon realized what situation he was in, He immediately turned the phone call off. Looking at the man in front of me up and down, balancing my options. If he was gone then my brother will be free.

I tried my best to think he was the bad guy. He is a criminal. He hurts people. So why is so hard to do this? His life does not worth more then my brothers.

Not thinking more I aimed at him shooting at his leg, watching as he immediately fell into his knees. A painful groan leaving his mouth as he looked up in fear. Screaming in pain his body guards did nothing as more of a Yoongis men closed around us there.

The sudden sound grabbed the attention of the people outside, some gasps feeling the air as more and more people watched us from afar.

- Agust please! Why are you doing this! - he groaned out, holding his leg were i just shoot him.

Some shocked breaths were heard in the back as well as steps behind me, I didn’t need to look to know it was him. A feeling of deja vu suddenly creeping into my body as a shiver as well with the cold wind blowing over my face.

- you seemed to have forgotten why you shouldn’t mess with me - Yoongi said, walking closer until he was right beside me.

He chuckled before holding the pistol against my hand, his body completely pressed over mine one hand losing around my waist I felt his cold breath hitting my cheeks as he slowly closed his finger over the trigger.

- who ever messes with Agust d…. - he said, turning slightly towards my face I looked up at him the smirk still dancing over his features. I could see flames in his eyes as he spoke the last words - will die…

Bang.

I didn’t look.

He held my hand firmly with the pistol. Eyes now locked with mine.

Bang.

Bang.

[…]

Notes; Things should end how hey started right? I’m so sorry guys it took me so long to updated the story for you all, ive been working my ass off to get it perfectly so you guys can have a great time enjoying this chapter. I would also like to inform that it will take a while until the next chapter of Set Met Free since ill be focusing on Crazy Over you until is finish. Ill try me best to get it done soon. Love you all, thank yo for all your support always. THIS IS NOT A GOODBYE LOLOL. I’m staying until i finish them all!!

Tag list; @catlove83 @passionandsuga @agustdwifey @crystallizedtime @cuntessaiii @rosquilleta @nochook @fatmaortiz @wobblewobble822 @mygdday @sazsazsaz @coralmusicblaze @missmin @whipwhoops @glosstwn @i-have-no-life-charlie @kooslilhoe @tarahardcore @manuosorio @thvlover @4ukiyo4 @missroro @btspurplesky @i-am-invisible-for-you @celticcountrygal @fairywriter-oracle @m4gg13-g @unadulteratedlyunique @anaspectoflife @younhakim29 @slinekyu @nochookiee @strxwbloody @yoongislatinagff @pandafuriosa60 @kimsonlyluv @be0mluver @sukonsukuna @amariemoore @starrlo0ver @effielumiere @lovelgirl22 @baechugff @sassyfoxunknown @poochieshooky @seonghwaexile @oldymoody @xyahrinx

[hobicakess]

RED CHOPSTICKS 3 — TEASER

SUMMARY: Sometimes in life we must protect our hearts even if it means ripping it out of our chest.

RATING: 18+ (I am not a babysitter. You're in control of what you consume.

content warning: small mention of blood, more will be added when the official chapter is posted

A/N: IM SO EXCITED FOR THISS!!!! everything i want for the final chapter has constantly running through my mind. so many different beginnings, middles, and endings. hehe should I be evil or should i be nice. FIND OUT IN PART 3 MWAH 🎉

part 1 , part 2

Suddenly there was a shift inside of you that moved your whole outlook on the life you previously lived. The oldest in a single parent household lead you to a life of independence and responsibility— dropping out of school to help provide for your family the best you could. Getting caught up with the law more time than you can count on both of your hands. Watching how all the work you put into your so called family flushed down the drain. Leaving you stranded and homeless in Seoul while they lived happily in the states. You realized life has never given you enough lemons to make lemonade at least until you met him.

Min Yoongi. You met him at a weird stage in your life, you were slowly but surely getting back on your feet. You didn't know that treating yourself for a bowl of ramen would change your life forever, but honestly who would? Unfortunately you loved Min Yoongi, you'd always will. Despite the multiple flaws he had, somewhere deep inside of him was a man who could love genuinely. A man with pure intentions and a heart of gold, a man who you could grow old with and have the cutest chunky babies, and finally die alongside like in the notebook.

But life never seemed to go in the way you wanted. You could feel the horrible burning sting of the bullets that grazed, and pierced your skin. The crimson color beginning to seep through your white T-shirt.

Laying on the cool floor, eyes heavy the only thoughts that managed to cross your mind on the brink of blood loss.

You were going to kill Min Yoongi and watch him and his empire burn to the ground and it was too fuckin' bad you were allergic to lemons.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: BTS is 7.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.IV

“You’re finally awake,” a familiar, gentle voice on your right remarked.

You slowly turned to the direction of the voice, your eyes were slow to adjust from the sudden brightness of the white and sterile room. You could make out a man with a tall form, and even with the little vision you were left, you were sure you have seen this man before.

You blinked owlishly, clearing out the sleep from your eyes and little by little, your vision cleared out as best as it could. When it finally did, your breath hitched from the recognition of who this man was.

The man who claimed to have lost his cat years ago– Suga’s hyung.

He smiled at you when a stark recognition crossed your face.

“I never thought we’d see each other again,” he chuckled from his seat, on his lap was your chart. “Let alone in this circumstance."

You quickly sat up. Only now did you feel a restriction form your left hand. Your other hand was quick to reach out, feeling the dextrose drip attached to your skin. You turned to him with caution in your movement, memories of what transpired before this rushing into you.

He found you and he was going to end you.

“W-where am I?” trying to steady your trembling voice and muster some courage.

Seokjin tilted his head to the side. If he noticed your trembling, he did not mention. Apparently, he was content with observing you with almost scientific curiosity. “You’re in my hospital,” he replied.

He followed your eyes as you tried your very best to see what this room was, your eyes drifting across the whole room as though you were looking for something.

“Are you looking for Yoongi?” he asked when enough silence passed with you looking like you were ready to bolt in any given moment. You were sure that

Your refusal to answer was an answer in itself. Your silence spoke volumes.

Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor was just adding up to your nervousness. Why was he not doing anything, you wondered? You were sure that he was a part of whatever shady business Suga was part of. It was impossible that he was not aware of that. After all, they did seem close and they were brothers. The correlation alone was enough to make you be wary of him despite the friendly act of his.

“He’s outside the room,” Seokjin shared with lightness in his words. He chose not to divulge that his younger brother was literally just outside the room, standing guard as though someone was going to take you from him. Worse, that you would disappear right under his nose had he left his pose. “Wanna know why? Apparently, he, and I quote, ‘cannot bear to see the frightened look his angel gave him’.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“I want to leave.”

He stood up calmly and proceeded to check and adjust your dextrose. “Don’t move this hand too much. You’re going to bleed,” he advised, murmuring under his breath how Yoongi was going to hurt him if you were hurt under his care. He also noted how none of his brothers treated him with the respect the eldest should be given. Also, he grumbled about how he kept on feeding them despite their disrespect.

It wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t answer nor acknowledge what you said.

He fished a penlight from his white coat, “I’m just going to check your eyes, Y/N,” he said as he turned the penlight on and instructed you to open your eyes. “Minimal reaction to light,” he murmured to himself before writing down on your chart. “When did this happen?”

“Should I answer?”

“That’s alright. I’ll just check with Doctor Choi-“

“How did you know my doctor?” you asked in aghast. Did their hold know no bound? If not, how then would he know something of confidential matter?

“Hmm?” he moved away from you slowly, his eyes comically wide and his hands raised as though in retreat. It would have been funny had you not been sure that he was one of the bad men you despised so much. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You squinted your eyes at his retreating form. The room that you were in seemed to be ridiculously large and despite the number of steps he was taking, he was still far from the door.

“I swear I don’t know. But also, while we are in the topic of things I certainly do not know and have absolutely no way of knowing, I also have no knowledge of the scar on your stomach that suspiciously do not look like a cesarean scar.”

---

Seokjin jumped from shock when Yoongi stepped in front of him as soon as he exited the room. “I’m going to die early because of my own brothers,” he grumbled in irritation, clutching your chart to his chest. “I can’t go without seeing my sunshine one more time.”

“How is she?”

“Hey, hyung! Have you eaten, hyung? Thank you for staying up all night to take care of the love of my life. I owe you one, hyung. You’re just the best, hyung. You’re so handsome, hyung– really?! Is that so hard to say those things?!” Seokjin finished, his heavy breath a telltale sign of his agitation.

“Let’s just go ahead and pretend I said those things. Anyway, how is she?” Yoongi asked, his face couldn’t hide the exhaustion from staying up all night and refusing to leave despite his assurance that you would be fine under Seokjin’s care. His face was even paler than normal.

He didn’t even leave his post to eat that he had to call the only available brother (and not even his second nor third choice, but his last resort), Kim Taehyung, to disguise himself and come to the hospital with food. Taehyung then had to force the other brother to eat at least two spoonsful of rice.

Taehyung was rarely denied by Yoongi, so maybe Seokjin chose the right brother for this task. Never mind the fact that he was later on kicked out by Yoongi because he kept on looking closely and taking notes of the way he was acting because he said that it would be useful for his next movie character.

“Hopeless. All of you are hopeless-“

“You are, too. How’s your sunshine, by the way?” Yoongi shot back and despite his lack of sleep, his words were sharp as ever.

“I don’t know where she is, okay!? Why are you hurting me like this?!” he asked dramatically, childishly glaring at him. “I hate you! If you want to know how your Angel is, you better ask her yourself!”

Seokjin walked away, his steps quick and his white coat was trailing behind him which further added to his dramatics. A paid actor, if you would.

“I…I can’t, hyung,” Yoongi admitted behind him. The quietness of the hospital wing was enough for him to hear his younger brother’s vulnerability. Further, it was just enough to stop him from walking away.

“Yoongi, you little shit, what do you really want to happen?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in a rare display of weakness. The image of the strong, composed leader seemed to dissolve in the face of his fear. The man who was usually a pillar of strength was now showing vulnerability. It was true what they said—even the strongest man falls to his knees for the woman he loves.

“Hyung,” he started, his voice low and his dark eyes down casted to the floor. “I just want her to be well. I want her to get back the life she had before I destroyed it. I want her to have a chance at normalcy. She deserves it. She deserves peace-”

 “She will be well.”

“How can you even be sure, hyung?” his voice, despite hinting a bit of hope still held despair. “You didn’t see her like I did. She was so…far from who she was.”

Seokjin smirked, “Because I said so. Now that that is out of the way, what do you really want? What’s really in that disgusting thingy you so fondly called a heart?”

Yoongi looked at him, his eyes held a certain darkness Seokjin was all too familiar with. He stood up straight, a strand of his hair fell to his face as he scoffed, “Her.”

He chuckled before leveling him with a serious stare. “Then go and get her.”

---

Your breath hitched when the door opened and your steps haltered.

Coincidentally, you knew who it was before he could even make it two steps inside the room. Even with your eyes failing you, you could never not know who he was. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him was unmistakable.

This was the moment of truth, you realized. This was your nightmares all and simultaneously coming to life.

You took a hesitant step back as his shoes made a sound. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder and more frantic than the last.

“You shouldn’t be walking around just yet, Angel,” he admonished quietly, and by doing so, effectively broke the silence between the two of you. You had never forgotten how his voice sounded like despite attempting your very best to erase his existence from your memories. You had never forgotten how deep his voice sounded like, nor how to tell what he was feeling by the timbre of his voice alone.

Despite all that, you couldn’t help but feel something when you heard his voice,

The anxiety was almost suffocating that your breaths came out short and quick. “W-why am I here?”

“You lost consciousness, Angel.”

You stepped back when you heard his voice nearer. Unlike back home, you didn’t know the layout of the room like the back of your hand. You were utterly and truly helpless in his presence. You only had yourself this time. “I want to leave.”

“You need to get treated, Angel-”

“I want to leave!” you screamed at him, your hands now shaking uncontrollably from having to face the person who destroyed your world.

“Angel, calm down,” he implored, worry apparent in his voice but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter what he felt. You wanted him gone. You wanted to get away from this situation. You wanted to go home where everything was familiar. You wanted to hold your son again. You wished he never found you again. You wished that you could just wake up from this nightmare and back to your life.

Suddenly, the back of your leg collided with something solid, and you lost your footing. The room tilted as you fell, the moment drawn out, weightless—until strong arms caught you before you hit the ground. His reflexes, honed from years of instinct, were faster than gravity.

You were in his arms again.

For a breathless moment, you were in his arms again. Your body stiffened immediately, every muscle tensing in protest. Panic flared hot in your chest, overwhelming every sense. The touch you had once welcomed now filled you with terror. You shoved at him, desperate to get away.

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice was sharp, trembling with fear, and you struggled to free yourself, needing to break the contact. He loosened his grip, and you stumbled back to the floor, but his eyes never left yours.

“You’re scared of me…” he said in horrifying realization. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever want you of all people to be terrified of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you. Not when you looked at him before like he held all the answers and hang all the stars in the sky- too opposite of how now your eyes never left his in terror that he would do something terrible to you. Now, your wide, terrified gaze was locked on him as though he were something dangerous, something monstrous that might strike at any moment. The realization seemed to tear him apart, slowly, painfully.

“I-I’d never hurt you,” he stammered, his voice shaky with desperation as if each word might be the last thread keeping him tethered to something he no longer understood. “You have to know that Angel–”

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, your voice harsh as you pulled yourself further away, dragging yourself from his reach, from his proximity. And inching toward any corner. The endearment that had once meant so much now felt like an insult, a reminder of everything he had taken from you. His very presence was a wound you were desperate to escape, a scar you could never heal while he was near.

He recoiled at your words, the pain in his eyes deepening as if the rejection physically hurt him. "Please... I’d never—"

"Stop." Your voice shook as you raised a hand, as though the very sound of his voice was too much. "You don’t get to talk like that. You don’t get to act like you weren’t planning to use me and kill me the first chance you got."

A deafening, soul-crushing silence settled over the room, so thick and oppressive it felt like you could choke on it. The accusation hung in the air, heavy, suffocating, leaving no room for either of you to breathe. His face went blank, as if every emotion had been stripped away in an instant, leaving behind only a hollow shell. His eyes searched yours, trying to find something, some trace of the person you used to be, the person who used to believe in him.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he already left. His presence felt ghostly, his body frozen as if he couldn’t bear the weight of your words.

“Is that why you are so scared of me? Is that why you let me believe that you were dead?” he asked lowly, disbelief apparent in his tone. Was all the agony he endured because of a misunderstanding, a mistake on his part?

Your heart skipped a beat. What?

He believed that you were dead?

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, confusion mixing with the fear that still pulsed through your veins.

Suga took a shaky breath. If you could see him, you’d see the tears pooling in his eyes, glistening as they threatened to fall. His gaze never wavered, locked onto yours, a painful mixture of sadness and confusion reflected in the depths of his eyes. “T-that night, Angel, you disappeared. We couldn’t find you anywhere. You just…vanished without a trace-” he paused, swallowing hard as if the memory was too painful to relive. “Everyone said that you died. Everyone told me that it would be impossible for you to survive that fire, not after the wounds you got. I never believed them. You must understand. I searched for you—years, Angel. Years of believing I lost you forever."

Your stomach twisted as his words settled in. The intensity of his gaze, the genuine anguish in his voice—it was as if he truly believed what he was saying. He had spent all this time believing you were gone, that you had died. But how? Why?

None of this made sense.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief clouding your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to hold onto your version of the truth—the one you had built to survive. "I didn’t let you believe anything," you whispered, your voice shaking. “You’re lying. You’re making a fool out of me again. You didn’t look for me because you wanted me gone! H-he told me that if you find me…that you’d kill me. That you’re scared of being exposed for who you are-“

"Who’s he, Angel?" His voice was soft, but there was a hard edge beneath it—an urgency, a desperation to understand what had led to this moment, what had driven you so far away.

You froze, realization crashing over you like ice water. No. You shouldn't have mentioned him. If Suga thought you had died, then maybe—just maybe—he believed that Hoseok had disappeared with you in the fire. If that was true, he had no reason to go looking for him. No reason to discover what you were protecting.

But time was running out.

Not just for you, but for Hoseok.

Kim Seokjin knew what you were hiding, and the longer you stayed here, the closer Suga would get to the truth. If he ever found out about your son…

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your throat. You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him find Hoseok. "It doesn’t matter," you said quickly, your voice cracking as you tried to mask your fear, but you knew it was too late. His eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in you.

"It does matter," Suga said, his voice growing harder, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me who’s been feeding you these lies, Angel. Who made you believe I wanted to hurt you?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words press against your chest. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching for any sign of weakness, any crack where you might let the truth slip. But you couldn't. If you did, everything would fall apart. You would endanger your son.

"You’re not going to tell me? Fine," he said after a moment of tense silence, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. But make this clear: you will not make me live without you again. I’m not letting you leave me."

“You can’t make me stay here!”

Suga’s lips curled into a slight, unsettling smile. "Oh, Angel," he murmured, taking a slow step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I can."

Your pulse quickened as you backed away, but there was nowhere left to go. The walls, the room, his presence—everything felt too close, too suffocating.

"You said you loved me once," he continued, his voice soft but chilling. "I told you then... you can never take that back."

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, the words hanging over you like a sentence. You had once loved him, but that love was gone, buried under fear, pain, and the desperate need to protect your son. Yet to him, that love still tethered you to him—unbreakable, inescapable.

"Things have changed," you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Suga shook his head slowly, stepping closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. "No," he said quietly, almost tenderly, "the only thing that's changed is that now, I know what it feels like to live without you. And I'm not going through that again."

He reached out, his hand ghosting near your arm, but you flinched away, causing a flicker of something darker to flash across his eyes.

"You don’t get to leave, Angel. Not this time."

Latibule 2.VI

[sailoryooons]

Obsidian | Series Masterlist | (myg)

☾ Summary: You've never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Series Word Count: TBD

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, violent crimes, criminal enterprises, anarchist themes, semi-intense world building, sexually explicit content, explicit language, morally grey characters, themes of revenge and angst. This series is about people who are criminals and taking down a criminal empire that does not benefit them. They are not always good people. Dead dove do not eat.

☾ A/N: Welcome to the new and improved Obsidian series. I have started the re-write of the original version of this and while those chapters are still posted and exist, once this story starts in full, I will remove those chapters so that this is the only existence of the story.

☾ A/N 2: The sudden resurgence of this fic finally being re-written is inspired by the wonderful, beautiful, adorable Fish sticker gifted to me by @kithtaehyung. I hope you all love Fish as much as we do when you finally meet him in this story.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾ Original Story ☾

C H A P T E R S

PREFACE | RED

ONE: COMING JANUARY 1

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l ch. 1 play nice l prelude. strangers 1/2 l prelude. strangers 2/2 l ch. 2 l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps. 

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.

“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!” 

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through? 

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing. 

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut when you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?” 

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and a touch dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.

Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, and your breath hitches as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his nails into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. For a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. Then he pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand leaves your hip to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to the front of your waist. You have to clench down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim, voice muffled. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to drop it open.

“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in and fixes his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback. 

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him. The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, offering an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.

A motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.

A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him. 

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that. 

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.

“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bag. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should��ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.

The scent of rain washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s a 360, but it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this. 

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

.

.

.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

masterlist

taglist: @rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos

@busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 4

“Justice just never sleeps.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi makes a decision and gives up on the nicotine gum.

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, explosions, fire, blood, threats, arguing, handjob, blowjob, riding

A.N. It's so hard to pick a favorite part, but I think this one might be it... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai for helping me around the clock and being an incredible beta! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Yoongi sighed as he made his way inside his office, dismissing his secretary when she tried to pass him a pile of files waiting for his review. It was the end of another exhausting Friday, and although he appreciated her commitment, she should have long gone home to her family instead of wasting time on this.

Closing the door behind him, he started a sequence of ceremonial steps: he took off his coat and hung it up, loosened his tie, grabbed more nicotine gum from his drawer, and then sat down, chewing it with a long sigh. The wall behind him had his many decorations, including the latest that landed him there.

Working with you was seamless and smooth, and justice was swiftly served. Not only was he able to recover the agent’s body and bring him home with honors, but the dismantling of the whole operation was a huge success. It gave him honors, medals, a ceremony with Seoul’s Mayor, and lastly, a promotion he didn’t even want. 

He heaved a deep breath; he couldn’t say he loved being Superintendent General. He preferred to be hands-on with the cases he and his team worked on, but he had moved too far up: he made decisions, but was too high in rank to see any of them carried out. He had more responsibilities and dreadful meetings that were more about competition between police agencies and politics than what actually mattered. And so for months, he’d been tolerating the bullcrap from all ends — from fellow Superintendent Generals and their chiefs from all over the country, including his boss, politicians, and Senior Superintendents complaining about the workload and the lack of resources as if he wasn’t in that position himself just months prior. It was exhausting and slow, and he kept asking himself what was the point.

But just like any other night, his ritual wasn’t complete if he didn’t open his locked drawer and pulled out a file with your name. Despite being frustrated and sometimes disgusted by the people in positions of power with so little consideration for the workforce or the people they served, there was nothing he could do. Instead, every night, he stared at your file and asked himself what he should do.

That night was engraved into his brain: you made a deal, he relapsed and asked you to let him eat you out, then proceeded to get so lost in you, that he didn’t even recognize himself. But then, you left him alone in your office, and that was when he saw those files.

He had managed to take photos of a few of them before leaving and had since printed them and worked on them. So he knew what they contained – details of money laundering. They depicted monumental amounts, to the likes that he was surprised even existed, but maybe he was just too naive. There were mostly coded names on those files, so he knew you were handling it for others and not just for yourself. It probably ran much deeper than a few bars or the drugs you were now distributing, safely, like you promised.

And that was the issue, wasn’t it? He groaned with himself, settling his face inside his hands. He used to see things as black and white, but the more time passed, the more he realized there was no such thing. Politicians, among other officials, ran the show, and he knew things were happening behind closed doors. You were as bad if not worse than the people you had helped him put away, but you kept your word: you gave him evidence to exonerate Officer Jimin, an alternative to bring the Klysa conglomerate down without ruining the lives of thousands of people, and gave him the address where he could find the agent’s body, not to mention crucial names that once picked, dismantled the net of dealers quite nicely.

So why was he after you? Were you the lesser evil? Were those exceptions to your usual criminal and selfish deeds? Or were you just deceiving him by pretending to play nice?

He didn’t know how you knew so much, but now he knew you laundered money, and he had evidence. Evidence he couldn’t use without disclosing how close he had gotten to you and risking discrediting himself. Evidence that could get him a warrant, even under heavy scrutiny. He could try to bring you down, even if it meant letting his career implode. His former self would have, but now he was hesitating, convincing himself every night that he should pursue this. If those documents existed, then his instincts about you were right all along and other evidence was out there, too. It was just business; you would throw him under the bus if it suited you, too. Right?

He heaved a deep breath and closed the file, deciding to bring it home and muse over it there this time around. The office was empty, and it was a lonesome way until he reached his car in the underground parking lot. He hated not seeing the liveliness of a police station anymore, but that was where he was now.

His phone rang through the car speakers as he drove, and he picked it up at the second beep, “What’s wrong?”

Something had to be for Officer Jung to call him at 1 AM.

“Remember the one you wanted me to keep an eye on?” 

Yoongi hummed as he maneuvered the car at an intersection; he was lucky with every detective and officer he had had the pleasure of working with.

“Just got the code for an explosion and fire at a restaurant downtown that she owns. First responders are on their way. Apparently, she was in the building.”

“Which one?”

His grip stiffened around the steering wheel and in seconds, he was doing a U-turn under the streetlights. There was little on his mind as he drove way past the speed limit, cutting corners and passing cars to get there as quickly as he could.

He stopped his car next to the police barricade and got out with a shudder down his spine. Una mordidita was famous around those parts; it was the best Mexican restaurant, and it was always booked. The building itself was dedicated to the concept, and he knew the different floors could host multiple types of events. 

Yet now, it wasn’t the center of influencer buzz or a ballroom dancing event, but of chaos. Firefighters were trying to get the flames under control as even the red neon sign above the building got charred by the smoke escaping the windows. The white walls were losing their shine, and the wood decorations giving it a more Latin-American vibe had surely seen better days.

The chaos of shouts, siren lights, and people wanting to see what was happening didn’t disturb him; he had worked through similar occurrences, so he understood the professionals’ logic through the disorder. What got him running towards the Firefighter Captain handling the occurrence was something else entirely.

He smacked the Captain’s shoulder and didn’t even let him recover from the shock of seeing Yoongi there. “Is everyone out?”

The Captain regained his bearings swiftly, “Working on it.”

Yoongi knew better than to overstep, but he was unsettled. He turned to the entrance of the restaurant, where people were running down the stairs, accompanied by firefighters. He didn’t recognize a single one, and so he turned to the captain again with a stiffness in his shoulders, “You need to—”

A loud female voice shouted, and he spun to look again. The Captain’s frown was entirely lost on Yoongi when he saw you almost being dragged out of the restaurant and down the stairs by two firefighters. His feet instantly took him to you, finally allowing him to hear what you were saying.

“Un-fucking-believable!! You let it spread to the third floor?! What the fuck are you all doing?! Let me go and do your job!!”

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, noticing your bruises, cuts, and blood dripping down your temple. Your embroidery anglaise white dress fit your curves in what would have been a dreamy view if it wasn’t stained with black and red spots, letting see how you had scrapped your knees too. You were busy trying to get the firefighters to get their hands off, but they couldn’t let you go until you calmed down.

You were frantic, so you only noticed Yoongi when his hands settled on your shoulders and he spun you to face him. Your voice finally vanished as your eyes widened; finally, he could see you were shaken up under all that fierceness.

“Are you hurt?”

His tone was firm, to the point, but you squirmed, “I have to—”

“Are you hurt?” He repeated, not letting you get away.

“I’m fine!”

You tried to turn around, but he didn’t let you. He wrapped an arm around you, signaling the firefighters that he had you, then dragged you away. You squirmed and hit his chest, clawing at his arm and demanding he set you free, but he ignored you.

You thought you’d gouge his eyes out in frustration, but suddenly, he forced you to sit on a street bench across the street. He kneeled before you, but your eyes flew beyond him to the restaurant. The fire, the smoke, the people, the firefighters, and even the wreck at the back that you couldn’t see from there. The explosion had been in the kitchen, surely. You knew before any reports because that’s where you’d do it if you wanted to send a message. Easily passable as an accident, but strong enough to cause all that chaos. You ground your teeth, vexed to your core, and sprang back up. The more those idiots wasted time with—

“Sit down.”

Yoongi’s tone was incontestable as he grabbed your arms and forced you back down, and this time you faced him. He was like an apparition, crouched in front of you with his dark hair, sharp eyes, and composed demeanor that always rattled you so much. He was a sight for sore eyes, and it confused you.

“How are you here?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Did you know about this?!” You asked furiously, your anger fueled by the possibility.

But he was impassive, “Are you hurt?”

“Answer the question!”

“You’re in shock, and I need you to calm down.”

“I am fucking calm!” You roared in his face, almost jumping away. “My restaurant just fucking exploded and is on fire, don’t you fucking talk down to me!”

“I know, so calm down.”

His monotone voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m fucking calm! I need—”

He gripped your wrist and raised it before your eyes, and you jolted; your fist was shaking.

The anxiety crept up on you, and you sobbed under your breath, instantly looking at him in confusion. You were angry, ready to blow on everyone and everything, but suddenly you wanted to cry. Your fear had stayed at bay, but was ambushing you now.

You gripped his coat as you teared up, mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. You sucked anxious breaths as you looked around, conflicted between crying and telling him it was all so frightening, and getting up and making everyone work hard to save your business.

Your thoughts must have been clear in your eyes because he held you back, grounding you with enough space to let you breathe and process.

“I know. It’s a lot. I promise everyone is handling it, but you are more important.” He spoke calmly, but not condescendingly, and it only made you shake harder. “Tell me: does anything hurt?”

You pulled in a deep breath and frowned, then shook your head. A small explosion behind him drew your eyes, but he guided your chin gently so you’d face him again.

“I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to tell me if it hurts.”

You were ready to cuss him out, but as soon as he released you, you grabbed onto him desperately. There was nothing in his dark eyes as he looked up again, yet you were so embarrassed you could have died. You didn’t want to hold onto him for dear life like that, but it was stronger than you. Your lips trembled, and you suppressed your cry, unable to explain or control what was happening to you, but he had you.

He leaned into you, tugging you in with his elbows on each side of your legs, “I know, I’m here.”

Your frightened eyes showed him enough to anticipate the moment you let go of him to throw your arms around his neck and squeeze tightly. He could barely breathe, but it was secondary; he embraced you slowly, afraid to hurt you. The adrenaline running through your system changed the way you perceived pain, and he’d never risk harming you. Still, you needed to feel safe, so he held you as hard as he could safely. 

You were shaking, maybe even crying, but rightfully in his arms. Despite the chaos behind him, that was all that mattered.

He waited until you pulled away, sniffling and pulling your long hair back, embarrassed to face him. It told him the first part was over, and that now you’d be able to talk.

“We need to get you checked.”

“No,” you dismissed easily. “I only trust my people, anyway.”

He swallowed his exasperation and tried again, “But at a hospital—”

“No, just take me home.” You got up and faced the mess before you with a hard expression, catching him off guard. He got on his feet quickly, ready to try to convince you to go to the hospital anyway, but you looked at him again, “My people can meet me there, and I have calls to make.”

He observed you, clearly not convinced, but you stood your ground. You didn’t want to ask nor admit you needed him right now to feel safe and be able to look that problem in the eye. You’d soon be yourself again, and that moment of weakness was unforgivable, even more so in front of him. But as you faced him and waited for his response, you closed your fists and tried not to wobble on your heels or cry again. You had a reputation to uphold, people to manage, retaliation to prepare, and maybe your knees hurt a little bit.

“Alright.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and directed you slowly in another direction, away from it all. In other circumstances, you could have thought about the potential danger of going with him, but you dismissed those thoughts. Yoongi was your cop, even if you hadn’t seen him in months. He was there for you, and there was no judgment in his eyes.

You sat on the shotgun seat of his car and looked at your lap. The time it took him to circle the car was enough for you to chastise yourself for being so gullible.

He sat down next to you and got ready to drive, and you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Did you know about this?”

“About what?”

“About their plan.”

He glanced at you, then got the car moving, “I was driving home when I was notified of what happened and drove straight here.”

You closed your trembling hands over your lap again, uncomfortable with how relieved his words made you. Your eyes settled on the rearview mirror, where all the chaos was being left behind, and you sighed. You couldn’t let that shake you; it was just a place, a business, one of countless others. It didn’t matter that you were there, that it happened so close you were deaf from your right ear, that you could have died, that it was way too close for comfort.

He reached to grab your hand, and you looked at him again. You didn’t know what to call this or how to interpret it, but he was there. Yoongi was right there.

His perfume was all around you, and with the lull of the car, the nightly traffic, and his hand in yours, you managed to close your eyes, work through the adrenaline, and doze off.

You opened your eyes when he squeezed your hand, meeting the gate of your private property in Hannam-dong. His window was down, and your housekeeper was asking who he was.

“It’s me, Sooyong,” you raised your voice just enough.

The gate instantly opened, and you stretched lazily. You weren’t shaking anymore, and your judgment wasn’t clouded either. All in all, those thirty minutes had managed to calm you down. Of course, your knees stung, your head fucking hurt, and you would feel your left side for days since you fell on it during the explosion. But fuck, if you weren’t ready to get down to business ASAP.

You told Yoongi where to go so he could park inside your garage, then left the car swiftly before it was even off. You didn’t wait for him to follow you inside, but knew he would; instead, you handed your coat to Sooyong, nodded at your two security guards, and bent down to greet your two lovely Dobermans: Archer and Gunner.

“The medic will be here shortly, and I already asked for a preliminary report of the damage.”

Sooyong was looking at Yoongi with suspicion, but you ignored it, “Get me a phone, I need to contact Hoon Yeong.”

Your butler bowed and obeyed instantly, but Yoongi wasn’t able to think about what he was hearing. The two big goons didn’t follow Sooyong, and your dogs had turned to Yoongi the second you stopped petting them.

In another circumstance, Yoongi could have felt intimidated or at least uncomfortable by the whole situation, but not tonight. You were still bleeding, slept only ten minutes in the car, and were now getting worked up instead of resting.

So he spoke up, “You need to get checked before anything else.”

It didn’t matter that your men looked ready to beat him up or that your dogs were sniffing him too close for comfort. You glanced at him, “I’m fine.”

Then you turned and left, disappearing further inside the house.

He didn’t hesitate to follow after you, ready to insist on you taking this seriously, but he wasn’t able to. You dismissed your guards with a wave before they could grab Yoongi to drag him out, and were already pressing a phone to your ear.

He looked around your big living room, its white couches, carpets, fancy glass chandeliers falling from elevated ceilings, and matching walls adorned with expensive art. You didn’t just live lavishly; you displayed it, too.

You sat on a couch while you spoke with a hand covering your eyes, and Yoongi moved quickly to dim the lights. You were stubborn, but he wouldn’t make things harder for you.

He waited while you talked, disliking the observant butler in the corner of the room. Yes, Yoongi was listening to everything you said, but you could have easily told him to leave. So instead, he kept your two dogs busy with him and quiet while you made one call after another, holding nothing back.

“Secure all locations, increase the bouncers working tonight, and do random checks. Send someone to La Mordidita to account for all our staff, and Thoma to make a sweep before the firefighters start snooping around. I want to know what can be recovered and who the fuck dared to pull this shit off.”

“And? And the product? The insurance? Yes, indeed. Don’t move it, don’t do anything. Keep me posted.”

“Talk to me, Ulan,” you sighed, fatigued from handling multiple people. “I want to know how the fuck does anyone even plan this, and I don’t hear about it.”

You were pacing around with each call; whatever you were learning was not helping you settle. The medic arrived and asked you to sit to work on your wounds, but you were restless. You were trying to figure out who did it, and it was clear to him by the way you started shouting that your people knew and that something had failed.

The medic tried cleaning your temple wound, mentioning a concussion, but in your temper, you slapped her hand away. That was the moment Yoongi decided to intervene; he got up, waved the medic away, and took over.

You were ready to slap his hand away, too, but froze when your eyes met his. His expression was hard, saying without as much as an eyelash bat that you needed to hang up. 

You huffed your annoyance and quickly redirected your anger, “If you know, then get me something. Those bastards found out about it somehow. Get me the mole, and something that will hurt them just as badly. Weren’t they importing weapons illegally to sell to both North and South? Get me something!”

You ended the call and threw your phone to the other end of the couch.

“The fucking audacity,” you spit between gritted teeth, glaring at Yoongi. He worked fast on the wound on the side of your head, but it still stung.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it fucking hurts!”

You exploded and instantly saw the glint in his eyes. Why did he look so dazzling, taunting you like that? He did not react to your outburst whatsoever, so you rolled your eyes.

He started cleaning the cuts on your palms. “Why would they attack your restaurant?”

You gritted your teeth and waved everyone else out of the room, adding a command that guided your darling puppies to their big pillows in the corner of the room. You were annoyed with absolutely everything, and even more with the answer about to fall from your lips, “Because they knew I would go there to secure important goods.”

“Was this personal?”

You smirked bitterly, “Had to be.”

“What were the goods?”

“The product we got last time. Some of it, anyway.”

“How did they find out?”

“A mole, for certain. I moved everything across multiple locations and only disclosed today that a fraction would go to this restaurant for distribution. So unless they can read my fucking mind, they had to learn it from a fucking mole.”

“They could have just followed you if they knew you’d go personally.”

You paused and then chuckled while he prepared the gauze to clean the wounds on your knees. “But they could have attacked any of the venues I was in before, and they didn’t. They had to know what was in this one was worth destroying.” He nodded quietly, seemingly focused on getting your knees clean of debris. You hated the silence and almost growled, “But they have no fucking idea who they’re messing with.”

“No, they don’t.”

His answer was so serene, that it accentuated the silence that echoed the room. He got rid of the bloodied and dirty gauze, looking you over as though he was evaluating if anything else needed pressing attention, and it hit you. “You’re still here.”

He looked at you, “Do you know who did this?”

There was a shift in his tone that made you shudder, “The Russians.”

“Where would it hurt them?”

“Their warehouse downtown.”

“Their boss?”

“Prokhor Evgeni.”

“Where is he?”

“The Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong.”

Yoongi nodded and got up, leaving the same way he got there, and you were dumbfounded.

“Wait!” You got up, and he stopped to look at you. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

Some could say that was an abuse of power, but it was too easy.

He realized, as he drove under a sky barely blemished by the rising sun, that when the force wanted to, shit got done in a flash. They said, ‘Where there is a will, there is a way’, and he was in the unique position to have both.

He stopped in a no-parking zone in front of the Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong and made his way lazily up the stairs of the entrance. The big thugs outside didn’t phase him as he asked to speak with Prokhor Evgeni. His tone was dry and blasé, and the men’s reactions were to laugh and joke about it being almost 6 AM. The center was closed to people like him.

“Nothing is ever closed to people like me,” he found himself answering, unmoving.

He saw commotion behind the thugs, where he imagined the security booth was, and instantly relaxed. People like him didn’t have to show identification, his face was enough. He glanced at his watch as he waited, ignoring the quips of the two men, who were increasingly dumbfounded by the situation.

He understood; he would have been stupefied as well. After all, even Superintendent Generals would have security if they wanted to confront the head of a mafia at 6 AM. But as it turned out, Yoongi was feeling beside himself. It was time to start using who he was to get shit done, instead of hiding and praying someone like you could give out a hand. Not this time; it was his turn.

One of the bouncers couldn’t read the room and made a move to touch him, and Yoongi’s eyebrow almost twitched. He just needed one touch to arrest him and get a warrant. Would that be an abuse of power as well?

Fortunately for the small fry, someone from the back called out his name and reprimanded him swiftly in Russian. It was enough for Yoongi to assume everyone was on the same page, and follow when said man — a big, wide fellow with small eyeglasses — waved at him to follow.

Yoongi went up the elevator with the guy in silence, evaluating if anything still needed to be done to wrap this up, but it was just that. And a phone call.

He ignored everything he saw as he walked the corridors, from the men passing him to the gambling hastily hidden by the doors continuously closing in his wake. Finally, he arrived at the office of the big boss, judging by the cigars, wide flat screens showing multiple sports simultaneously, and the big foreigner man with much more white hair than he would have guessed, sitting behind a desk.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me,” Prokhor Evgeni laughed before the amusement dropped from his face. “But here you are. You must be lost,” he bit the cigar in his mouth, unable to hide his discomfort.

Yoongi stretched his shoulders a little bit and, on cue, his phone rang. He picked it up, “Got it.” 

He put his phone back inside his pocket, looking at Prokhor as if waiting for him to say something, which only annoyed the old thug further.

Yoongi looked around as if he had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait for you to be put in the loop.”

Prokhor smacked his hands on the desk, getting up with a shout that never came out because his phone rang as well. He sat back down, cursing under his breath, and picked it up. His gaze was venomous as he heard the caller, unable to stop Yoongi when he reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter lying on the desk.

The mob boss’ cheeks were getting redder and redder, yet Yoongi was unfazed as he lit a cigarette and took a drag that numbed his senses. He almost groaned then, holding it in for such a long time he lost track. How had he ever stayed away?

Prokhor yelled what were probably obscenities before slamming the phone on the desk, but before he could talk, Yoongi breathed, “Justice just never sleeps.” The smoke exited his parted lips slowly, and the mob boss stilled, starting to understand the situation. “We were lucky too,” he smirked, taking another drag. “Your kids still had the same materials used in the explosives in their car. Otherwise, I don’t know. We might have required a warrant to search for more potentially harmful materials. Say in the warehouse downtown where they were found lounging around smoking weed when they were arrested.”

Yoongi suppressed a smirk as he put the cigarette between his lips, and the mob boss was so red he was about to explode. He knew the kids weren’t found near his warehouse, so the implication was clear.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!”

He hissed, but Yoongi only kept smoking placidly, “Just try to poke your head out again.”

In a flash, pure anger became bewilderment in the giant’s blue eyes, “No way.” Yoongi didn’t even blink, so Prokhor scoffed, “Bitch really has the Superintendent General on a leash?”

Yoongi threw the cigarette on the garish carpet, “I like it quiet.”

He turned to leave, but Prokhor got up in a fury again, “I have people too! People who can bite your head off!”

Yoongi turned but kept walking backward, opening his arms in a momentary invitation, before leaving that place without as much as a hair out of place.

It was interesting to consider that Prokhor’s threats could hold true, but Yoongi didn’t feel minimally affected. He got inside his car to drive home and reevaluated his thought process. He and the Firefighter’s Captain had a long history, the Mayor called him for favors, and the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency still operated under his direct scrutiny. It was why puzzling the evidence from the restaurant fire had been so easy, especially given that Thoma had conveniently left the place ready for them. Yoongi assumed; he saw a man in the shadows, between the mess, and minutes later, a firefighter had found something. Interesting how explosions in rich parts of town were such a priority for the city; the division of arson investigation could take years to build a case, but tonight, a couple of hours sufficed. The Mayor saw to that as soon as Yoongi called. And the media would love that swift action, earning everyone brownie points for reelection.

Yoongi parked as he scoffed to himself; he was playing a dangerous game. He eyed his house, wondering if he should feel wary about anything happening to him, but he brushed it off. And if it did? He did what he had to do, and he’d sleep like a rock, knowing he had taken care of everything so you could finally sleep your concussion off.

He got inside his house with the first rays of morning, thanking the universe it was Saturday. But he sighed and didn’t throw his jacket too far, only on the nearest couch, before making his way to the kitchen. He would probably still work—

Something cut the corner at the same time as him but from the kitchen, and his reflex was to pull out his gun instantly, taking a step back. You were tranquil, despite the gun barrel on your face, and his eyes widened in disbelief, “Jesus fuck!”

He could barely believe it was you, with no bandages on your head and now wearing a black dress instead of white, but he still put the gun down. Or would have, but you shoved it away first, then grabbed his head to kiss him.

Instantly, he put the pistol down on a nearby counter, just in time before you pushed him back. He hit a cabinet glass door with your strength and immediately caught you when you threw yourself in his arms, frantically kissing him as if there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

His initial shock didn’t last when your taste and perfume assured him it was you, and with you, insanity was to be expected. He had nothing against you being in his house, kissing him, or coming to him in general.

But he still tried to hold you back gently so he could ask, “Shouldn’t you— be in bed— resting?”

He spoke between your hungry lips, whenever you gave him a split second, and you laughed, “Take me to bed, then.”

Your sly smile died in a small yelp when he bent down to pick you up in his arms. You held onto him silently while he carried you upstairs to his bedroom, and his ego couldn’t have been more inflated after that whole crazy night. What got him wasn’t that he managed to calm you down, met your dogs, or solved your problem by showing some mob boss how big his cock was, no. What got him hard in a split second was that little yelp and your silence as he carried you effortlessly. He might have had an office job, but he still took the time to go to the gym every day, and fuck if it wasn’t worth it.

When he put you down over the bed, he thought you’d actually want to sleep after such an exhausting night, but he should have known better. You got on your knees on the bed before he could open his mouth and started unbuttoning his shirt. His expression must have given away his thoughts because you didn’t stop, but you didn’t push him either. You waited for a clear indication that you could touch him, but didn’t hesitate to get him naked, opening every button. Then, when you pulled the shirt back over his shoulders, he grabbed your head to kiss you.

Your reaction was instant, rushing to get rid of the shirt and unbuckle his belt as he consumed your mouth eagerly. It was hard not getting distracted, especially by the way he easily pulled on your hair to keep you on your toes, but it only served to melt you. Even when he did it with a level of gentleness, careful about your injuries; something that could easily trigger you and turn you off, but tonight made you so eager to be with him, that you didn’t recognize yourself.

You moaned inside his mouth when he sucked your tongue, dizzy from the blood rushing everywhere all at once. Fortunately, you had made your way inside his pants and could anchor yourself to his cock.

It only made you groan harder as you pumped him; he couldn’t get harder than that, and your wet core would be the perfect match.

His consuming kiss along with his soft touches could have gotten you to settle and let him decide where to take this, but you knew what you wanted and your limits. You needed Yoongi like air to breathe, but you were on painkillers and exhausted. You shouldn’t have driven there in that condition, but couldn’t stop yourself. So, you pushed through his addictive, wild kisses and pulled his pants and underwear down, hinting at him to strip fully.

He did so in a heartbeat, falling over you so quickly you didn’t see it coming. Accommodating him over you between your parted legs was everything you wanted, so you sighed into his returning mouth, clawing at his back so he’d come closer. His lips soon made a detour to your neck, and you were overrun by shivers, almost pleading his name with how much you were dying to feel him.

But as he made his way down to your chest, you pushed through your cloudy, horny judgment. You pushed him by the shoulders and got on top of him, straddling him easily. His head fell over the pillow, dark hair contrasting with the white as his equally dark eyes observed you. They were glistening, hungry, but the hands on your hips were patient, and controlled. Min Yoongi wanted to ravish you, but for you, he’d give you the lead. You almost teased him about it, but there was no time to waste.

You had never seen him naked, so you weren’t shy about looking; quickly, but still. You touched every scar you could see — on his left shoulder, under his ribs, on the side of his waist, wondering how he had gotten injured and if it had hurt. Your lips followed suit, lingering over his skin while you sniffed his scent on your way to an untamed delicacy.

You only nuzzled him for a second before starting to lick his balls greedily, and he groaned, “You don’t have to.”

You smirked, laughing with yourself — as if you’d miss the opportunity. “I want to.”

It would be wrong to say you drove across town in that state to give head to Min Yoongi, but it was close to the truth. In your plans, you spent more time working him up — kissing him, dry humping, maybe even twisting those pretty nipples — before reaching his balls and preparing him to give you cum all night long.

But the fucking concussion and pain and tiredness or whatever. It irritated you, your knees hurt, and your head was spinning, and not necessarily from his luscious scent or your insane lust. So, unfortunately, you had to cut to the chase.

Just licking the tip of his dick wasn’t enough; not for you, and not for him. You wanted the thick mushroom tip between your lips, and the guttural groan he let out once you sucked broke the dam for you.

You licked and drooled all over him, bobbing your head to get him further and further inside you with greed that bordered on obsession. The more your jaw slacked, and his taste flooded your mouth, the more you needed to feel him pressing, invading, reaching inside you. His groans matched your moans, his fists around the sheets mimicked your hands holding his hips, and the desperation of his hips, moving to match your head falling on him, almost fulfilled your need.

Until you realized that wouldn’t do. Your wet cunt was throbbing slick, desperate with your need, and you were selfish. You wanted him to bust his nut down your throat, but fuck; you wanted to ride him more.

The drool that fell all over his hard, red shaft was almost embarrassing, but you didn’t waste time licking it. You got off him to slide your underwear off, your eyes never abandoning his, and so you didn’t miss him looking at you with a glint of despair in his eyes.

“I think I wouldn’t have lasted five more seconds.”

You grinned at his confession and got back on him, throwing your dress around so you could align him with your slit, “Good.” You felt the tip of his cock, and so did he, because he gripped your hips as if to stop you. “You better hold it.”

His dark eyes showed a hint of torture, but you were not sympathetic. You pressed yourself down on him, rolling your hips to get him coated in you, forcibly stretching you, making you keen so ecstatically, that you threw your head back. If his thick cock tucked inside you wasn’t enough, then the groans out of his mouth, with gritted teeth and a frown, in deep concentration, would take the cake. You rolled your hips further, slowly in wide movements, seeing every line in his face contorting or twitching under your sweet torture, his strength slowly leaving him as he fought tooth and nail not to come so soon. 

“Your— Your knees—”

You smirked, oblivious about your bandaged knees at that moment. “Shut up, just let me ride you.”

His nails pierced your skin at the hips around your garter, and you moaned approvingly. Just looking at him, the blood rushed to your cheeks, the temperature rising immediately in a heatwave through your body. Every grunt of his was fuel; you couldn’t stop moving, dragging his thick cock across your walls so it could disappear deep inside you and torture him some more. And you, because the more he resisted, the more you wanted it, and the more it got to you too.

You knew you’d come pathetically quick but didn’t imagine it would be this fast. The pleasure burning through you was so overwhelming and undeniable, that soon you were riding him hungrily, not to torture him, but to come with him. He noticed it somehow because he started helping you, meeting you with short thrusts upwards that set your body on fire. You wanted him so fucking bad that leaning over his chest to kiss him before you came became your final act, and you crashed.

Your mouth pressed to his with a shaky moan from deep inside your chest, and he held the back of your head, keeping you in place. He fucked you through your orgasm, your throbbing so intense around him, it took him seconds to spill inside you; to groan into your mouth as he pressed you down, burying his cock as deep as he could.

Feeling him coming was such a delight, you grinned. The silence was cut by your chuckle seconds later, and even when he bit your cheek, you didn’t come down from cloud nine.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster - haegeum, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi. Bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. And the weapon. The monster. The violent creation of the shadow king. You.

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please, read the following.

As you can see, this is not the story. This is your warning. Only this post should be tagged / reblogged and not the actual post. This is intentional.

Some of you have read the 'monster' AU. The 'monster' AU is based off the world within the Daechwita MV. It was also written back then, in 2020. What many of you don't know is that the three parts on this blog (part i | part ii | part iii) are only some of the sex scenes of a much larger story. Mhm. I have never posted 'monster' in full anywhere. It would be misconstrued and misunderstood too easily. It is not for unprepared souls.

The gist of the story is that black-haired mafia boss Min Yoongi wants to kill the blond-haired Mad King, and he does.

I often get requests to revisit this AU.

My original intent was to not write anything more. I thought about taking the posts down at one point, as they are technically parts to an incomplete story I will never publish on here. Eventually, I decided to just let it be. People enjoy guilty pleasures. As long as you have your head straight and know this isn't real.

If there was any time to revisit these three, well, it would be after the release of Haegeum, wouldn't it?

Again, this is your warning. The following is not for the faint of heart. I am not holding back. If you click forward, that means you have read the following warnings below and you still wish to proceed. You know what you are getting yourself into. This is violence. This is insanity. This is 'monster' and there is no redeeming them.

Remember, everything is fiction. Read the disclaimer in my masterpost.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; premeditated killing and mass death with all three contributing; graphic descriptions of murder; blood; gun + knife violence; arson > explosion; thievery (money); mentions of reader placed in solitary confinement as punishment; physical abuse; sociopathic and manipulative behaviors; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex [reader is medically sterile], restrained [arms pinned down], choking with leather collar and with hand, heavy bite / scratching / bruising, stimulation to climax with the handle of a switchblade and said closed switchblade inserted into reader's vagina; reader being spit on and licked degradingly; cum-covered switchblade and later fingers in JK's mouth by Yoongi; standing sex, standing doggy, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, m-masturbation onto reader's face); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (long black-haired Daechwita/Haegeum AU), longhaired!tattooed!bodyguard!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; m/m tension between them; JK has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

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This is after the death of the Mad King.

Now, Min Yoongi has all of South Korea within his clutches, puppeteering the dirty money that goes in and out of this country. The underground ruler of the inhumane ruthlessly takes out anyone that is stupid enough to step forward and challenge his rule. Oh, they will always come, their greed tempted by the prosperous forbidden fruit flourishing in the darkness. Foolishly thinking, ah, but who could stop me? After all, no one knows who the shadow king really is – not until they are already locked within the fangs of death.

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by proceeding, you are verifying that you have read all warnings.

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masterpost