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frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months ago

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♡ Sympathy for the Devil ♡

♡ Pairings: mobster!boyfriend!jimin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: mafia au/angst/smut

♡ Summary: After an arguement with your boyfriend, you set out to get back at him by bringing a date to the restaurant he frequents on a night you know he'll be there. It's a dangerous game, toying with another human life to get your way, but you do love danger, don't you? You wouldn't be looking to make a killer jealous if you didn't.

♡ Word Count: 3.2k

♡ Warnings: appearance of other members (non romantic), dom Jimin w/ switch vibes sprinkled in, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, clit teasing, marking (hickeys), pet names (baby), you're feral for each other, fingering (f receiving), spanking, you give him a lil slap, choking, bathroom sex, possessiveness, jealousy, you're both kinda psychotic, implied murder, & that's it for the list of wholesome things in this fic.

♡ A/N: I'm such a sucker for mafia movies so I have the biggest soft spot for mafia fics. I want to thank @anyamaris for reading this first and encouraging me along the way when I was struggling with writer's block. Idk what I'd do without my #1 cheerleader for my dom Jimin agenda ❤️

Some of the prettiest animals in nature are simultaneously the deadliest. Park Jimin is no exception...

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by him. His face is a heavenly mixture of handsomeness and beauty. The cadence of his voice is like a song you can’t quite get out of your head and just when you think you have it’s back again. It’s all enough to make a girl blind to the blood on his hands.

Falling in love with him made the rest of the world all fuzzy. It blurred out everything. Not just the money laundering or the drug trafficking. To love him, to be loved by him, makes everything else feel like background noise. You've never touched a hard drug in your life but, the way he makes you feel, he must qualify as one.

That’s why you’re here doing the dumbest shit you’ve ever done in your life.

Arguments are inevitable in relationships. But arguments when you’re dating a mob guy? They’re different beasts entirely and it’s a bitch to tame them. Your last argument with Jimin led to you packing a bag and running off to your best friend’s place. In the beginning you never had to question if you came before everything else. You were special to him—at least you thought you were—and he’d stop anything to be with you.

But lately that hasn’t been the case. He’s been replacing his presence in your life with gifts, thinking he can make up for missed dates and lonely nights with designer bags. Maybe the other girlfriends are content with cuddling up to some ugly mink coat in place of their man but you aren’t one of them.

He just can’t seem to get that through his thick skull so you’ve set out to make him. If the death stare he’s giving you across this bustling restaurant is any indication of how your plan’s going, it’s working like a charm. You spent hours styling your hair just the way he likes it. Elegant and sleek, marrying beautifully with the softness of your face.

Your manicured nails are painted a translucent blue that deepens the slightest bit when the light hits it a certain way. The dress you’re wearing accentuates your curves in all the places he loves which, let’s be honest, is everywhere. And your heels, the heels, somehow makes your ass look more perfect than it already is. All of this and you’re sitting at a table having dinner with another man.

You spot Namjoon throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, no doubt leaning in to give him one of his infamous pep talks. "Don’t worry about her” he’s surely saying, “It’s not worth it, man. See, sometimes love is just…” Joon goes on, doing his best to keep his younger brother from doing something stupid but Jimin’s hardly listening. How can he when his blood’s boiling hot enough to eat its way through his flesh?

Every Sunday night the brothers and their girlfriends come here for dinner. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, love them as if they were their own and give them the biggest table no matter how packed it is. This is the one night they get to pretend they’re a normal family. It’s tradition and you don’t fuck with tradition. Everyone knows that. You know that.

“The thing a lot of women don’t understand is that men by nature aren’t monogamous” your date rambles between messy bites of dinner. The man’s not ugly by any means but god is he a pig, in more ways than one. Not that you’re complaining. It’s why you had your best friend set you up with him. Whoever you bought here was no doubt being led to slaughter. Who better than a pig?

A chill runs through you at the ruthlessness of your own thoughts, wiping the smile from your face. Looking up, Jimin captures you in his gaze, the death glare replaced with a look of childlike amusement. It’s as if the smile had fled from your face to find its new home on his, taunting you from afar. What’s he smiling for? You’re not foolish enough to think it’s for anything good.

“I was thinking, it’s kinda loud in here. Wanna go to my place?” your date asks, his poor attempt at getting laid tonight falling on deaf ears.

Jimin stands up, slipping out of his suit jacket as he does so. Rolling up the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt, he leans to whisper something in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi pours him a shot and he knocks it back like it’s nothing. The rest of the table watches on, concerned but doing their best to carry on dinner as usual. Their collective heart rate increases but none more than yours.

Maybe you hadn’t really thought this one out. Noticing the color drain from your face, your date reaches out to touch your hand. “Don’t!” you snap, jumping up from your seat. “I’m sorry. I just need a second.” Jimin’s halfway across the dining room when you flee toward the bathroom, nearly knocking into some poor innocent waiter in the process.

Navigating your way through the halls, you scramble to find a way out. You’ll tell the guy you’re sick. That’s it. Say you’re not feeling too well, must be the food or something, and send him on his way. Pretend this never happened.

“Beautiful dress, darling” an older woman smiles as she leaves the bathroom. You dash in before the door closes behind her, peeking your head back out to avoid being rude. “Thank you!” you shout after her, quickly shutting the door and hurrying to the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Snap out of it” you whisper, flicking specks of icy water at the makeup you worked tirelessly to apply. “Maybe…maybe he won’t do anything, right? We’re in public. He wouldn’t—” You force a weak, pained smile at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” you groan, burying your face in your hands, “He’s gonna kill him.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” sighs a voice that is distinctively not yours. Your hands drop from your face and there Jimin is, standing in the doorway with that same smile on. The one he’d so brutally ripped from your face. And here you are, shivering like a child too afraid of the monster under the bed to make a run for it.

In all your panic you could’ve sworn you locked the door when, in fact, you’d done no such thing. If he’d knocked you would’ve had to open it anyway—you’ve never been great at saying no to him—but at least you would’ve given yourself a fighting chance. Nothing to stress your pretty little head about. Jimin steps in, easing the door closed, and you hear a sharp click. It’s locked now.

The heels of his black Louboutin shoes tap against the polished tile as he approaches the sink. Your heart jumps with each tap, the sound growing unbearably louder the closer he gets. Jimin brings his arms around your waist, holding you as only lovers do, “You want me to hurt him, don’t you? Want me to break every bone in his body to show you how much I love you?” His full lips brush against your neck, soft tongue running along the surface of your skin like the head of a match ready to light up with dazzling flames.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching helplessly as his hands skate up and down your body, fingertips ghosting your most sensitive areas. His touch is a truth serum, forcing you to betray yourself and lay your motives bare. “You protect the things you love, Jimin. I only wanted to know if I was still one of them. Even if that meant…” you shudder at the thought. “We get what we want by any means. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it?”

Jimin grins, locking eyes with your reflection as he inches your dress up to reveal your pillowy thighs. “Aah but you already have me. I let you throw your little tantrum but I’ll never let you go. You know that.” His fingers dip between the warmth of your thighs, teasing your clit through your panties.

“So why?” he whispers, his other hand coming up to lovingly stroke your neck, “Why would you try to embarrass me?”

You part your lips to speak but your words are forced back down by the sudden pressure applied to your windpipe by his hand. All that escapes are broken words and hushed gasps for air. The light abandons his eyes, that boyish charm he so effortlessly wields burning to ash as you squirm in his grip. You kick your legs to get free but it only serves to give him the room he needs to tear your panties to the side, the pads of his fingertips dripping with your arousal as they glide through your folds.

He loosens his grip on your neck and you manage to rasp out “Mmm…sorry…didn’t mean” before you’re plunged back into silence. Curling his fingers against your entrance, he sinks one into your core. A single digit pumping into needy walls that are already clenching in anticipation of the next one. Snatching your head back, he kisses you like he hates you. Hates you so much that he loves you. Loves you so much that he hates you. A cycle, endless and all consuming, that neither of you can break from.

“Prove it to me” he demands between your lips, plunging another finger into you, “Bend over and show me how sorry you are.” Your back arches, bringing your soft ass flush against his bulge. You press back into him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass each time his fingers slam into your core. Jimin sneaks a glimpse at the mirror to watch the way your body jiggles from the motion. Thighs trembling, tits rocking in sync with the harsh movements of his wrist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” Jimin slips his hand away from your neck, drenched fingers abandoning your pussy to apply sharp, wet slaps to your ass.

Spinning around to face him, you land an equally sharp slap across his face, “Choke me like that again and I’ll rip your head off.”

If the burning of your palm is any indication, you know you hit him hard but he’s unphased. He's actually smiling, licking his lips at you like you’re the most delicious thing in this restaurant. He sweeps you off of your feet, setting you down on the sink, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

The marble’s even colder against your bottom than it was your hands but you don’t give a shit. Jimin’s tongue’s down your throat as he pushes your dress up, ripping away what was left of your panties. That’s the only thing you give a shit about.

“Jimin!” you giggle, tugging at the zipper on his pants, “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Hooking his arms behind your knees, he spreads your legs, pushing them to your chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” you pout, fingertips tracing the veins along his length.

They pulse and twitch as he raises his hips, dragging the underside of his cock between your folds. “I promise. I won’t—aah, shit, baby” he moans, his cock glazed in your arousal without having even been inside of you yet. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

You grab onto his shirt, the cotton knotted in your fists as you bask in the feeling of the head brushing your clit. “I did. Missed you so much” you mewl, guiding him to your entrance. Jimin peppers your cheeks with kisses, pushing into you. Filling you. Claiming you. “I, mmphh, missed, fuck, missed you too” he confesses, each word emphasized by thrusts that have you wanting to climb every wall in this bathroom.

When it comes to women Jimin’s told more lies than he can remember but never with you. He misses you and he means it, misses you so much that it hurts. Not just because you take his cock so well, somehow managing to look majestic when you’re being fucked up against this mirror. But because he feels incomplete without you.

Before you all he knew was violence and greed, constantly chasing power that would never be enough. Always needing more. He often wondered how much money it would take, how many buried enemies, to fill the emptiness that’s haunted him for as long as he can remember. And then you came along—the girl whose eyes twinkle as she stares up at him, your entire body calling out his name—and he had his answer.

All he needed to cure that emptiness, rid him of the nagging feeling that something’s missing, was you. But men like him have an image to maintain. In this world people come to know you for things, fear you for them, and you can’t let them think you’re soft. Not for a second. Not if you want to get what you want. “We get what we want by any means”. That is what he told you but nothing’s worth having if it’s by way of losing you.

Dragging you to the edge of the sink, heart thumping out of his chest from how tightly you’re clenching, he whispers into your open mouth, “Come home. I’m in hell without you. Everything’s so…so empty. Just say you’ll come back to me. Say it.”

“I-I’ll come back home. Fuck, I’ll go the moon if you want me to” you pant, watery eyes sending mascara streaming down your cheeks. You tug harder at his shirt, sending a button or two clinking into the mirror. He’s in you so deep, hitting every spot like only he knows how, that you’re ready to explode. Implode? One or the other. Maybe both.

Jimin laughs, his tongue grazing yours, “You wanna go to the moon, baby? Hold onto me. I’ll take you.”

Knowing better than to doubt him, you throw your arms over his shoulders and hold on like your life depends on it. The sink creaks beneath you as he fucks harder into a pussy that just won’t stop leaking for him. You lose control of your body. All of it belongs to him, as it should. You make no attempts at denying yourself the ultimate satisfaction when it hits. Your lips crash together as you climax, your moans, bordering on screams, pouring onto his tongue.

He eagerly devours them, returning some of his own as your walls spasm wildly, milking the cum from his swollen tip. Your cunt wants every drop of it and he’s determined to give it to you. Fill you up until it’s dripping out of you, making your thighs warm and sticky with his seed. Your body gives out and he tucks an arm behind you, sticking to his promise not to let you fall.

Staring up at the ceiling, you’re sure you see space, stars twinkling before your eyes as you float there, completely weightless. Jimin’s lips meet your heaving chest, suckling at your silky skin to leave hickeys along your collarbone.

“Mine. All mine” he repeats, “Love you so much.”

You run your fingers through his hair as he marks you, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I love you too.”

“Excuse me, sir. You’re holding up the bathroom” a comically high pitched voice says, tapping at the bathroom door. Jimin drags himself upright, knowing the voice too well. “You okay?” he asks, shuffling to make you both look presentable. He tries to fix your dress but there’s no use, he’s stretched it out more than he has you.

“Baby, it’s fine” you giggle, shooing him away, “I got it.”

Jimin unlocks the door, snatching it open to reveal precisely who you both expected. “Thank god!” Jungkook cheers, rushing into the bathroom and over to the toilet. “Whose idea was it to have one bathroom here, man? I’ve had to piss for like—” Reading the look on Jimin’s face, he follows his gaze over to the sink where you sit buzzed off of the afterglow with your tattered panties at your feet.

Jungkook grins, looking you both up and down, “Safe to say you two are having a good night, huh?”

Jimin hits Jungkook in the back of the head, walking over to help you down from the sink. He holds you close to him, kissing you as he steers you towards the door. “Is it done?” Jimin asks over his shoulder but you don’t hear Jungkook’s response. It’s drowned out by the symphony of sounds that assault you as you venture back out into the restaurant, Jimin’s arms still holding you tight. Scanning the restaurant you spot the table you were at with your date but now there’s another couple there.

“Long time no see!” Jin says, jumping up to hug you. His girlfriend follows behind, hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “Come sit with me” she insists, noticing your disheveled appearance, “I’ll fix you right up. I have everything in my purse.” You settle into the chair beside her and she goes straight to work cleaning the mascara from your face.

Jimin sits beside you, an arm draped over the back of your chair, and watches attentively as you get your makeup done. “Nice to have you back” Taehyung smiles, pulling something from under the table and passing it to you. Jimin sets them down before you—your jacket and your purse. You’d forgotten them at the table when you fled to the bathroom.

“Uh, thanks, I—” you stutter, cut off by Hoseok’s sudden reappearance at the end of the table. You’d seen him earlier but hadn’t noticed his seat was empty when you returned. He tries to play it off, hide it behind a smile, but he’s out of breath, utterly exhausted from something. The men glance around the table at each other. It’s a silent conversation you know you shouldn’t be in on.

“Jimin” you whisper, when you’re sure you aren’t interrupting, “Where’s…”

Jimin casually pours you both a drink, presenting you with a glass of wine. “Where’s who?”

“The guy that I was…”

“The guy that you were what, baby?” he asks, brow crinkling as he feigns ignorance. “You’ve been here with me all night, haven’t you?” He turns to the rest of the table who all seem to share his collective memory loss. “Hasn’t she?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Been here all night.”

“See? Now enjoy your drink and finish getting your makeup done” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Just like that, everyone resumes their conversations like it’s any other Sunday night dinner. You take a sip of your wine, the post-orgasm haze finally lifts from your brain, and all of the pieces come together in your mind. You shake the truth away, opting instead for the constructed reality necessary to pretend you just didn’t get a man killed.

What date? What guy? You’ve been here all night with Jimin. The man you came here with. The man you’ll leave here with. The man you love too much to ever run away from again. Unless, of course, you want to raise the homicide rate.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin x you #bts au #bts au fanfic #bts mafia au #jimin au #chubby reader #plus size reader #bts x fem!reader #park jimin x reader

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writtenwhalien · 2 months ago

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a lover's redemption | chapter 1

chapter 1. way down we go

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 10k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and share xoxoxox i'll confirm the release date of chapter 2 soon—this fic is a lot of work lol so in the meantime pls enjoy this longer chapter <3 and i used korean family names bc its a jimin fic and its hard to try and think of any other way that flows/to not use names, sorry not sorry, just imagine what you want xx

14th September 2003

“That’s it, good girl, Y/N—ow!”

Your dad clutched his leg after a particularly hard roundhouse kick to his thigh.

“Haha, well done, Y/N,” your granddad laughed from the side, clapping his hands in praise of you which motivated you to keep going.

Going in for another front punch, you dodged your dad’s punches – which he pulled to avoid hurting you – and then you came in with a sharp jab to his ribs.

“Ah, gosh, okay, okay,” he chuckled, taking a step back off the mat. “I think we should finish for the day, I’m gonna be covered in bruises tomorrow.”

“Was I good?” you asked, eager to hear your dad’s compliments as always.

“You were amazing, dear,” your granddad said, stepping forward and ruffling your hair. “You remember what I told you, yes?”

“Yes,” you nodded, stating the next words like a mantra. “Self defence is a state of mind that begins with the belief you are worth defending.” It’s what your granddad had told you since you started training last year at the age of five.

“Still got it,” your dad smiled, kneeling down to help you pull off your shin guards. “You can show Jae-ho the combination tomorrow, but for now, let’s go get ready for dinner before your mom kills me.”

Beaming, you ripped your gloves off. “Can we go again before class tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” your dad said, patting your back, and together you raced out of the summer room and back into the house, as your granddad followed leisurely behind you.

“Mom, I learned a new combination today!” you beamed, climbing up onto the stool at the breakfast counter.

Your mom smiled at you, her apron covered in flour as she puts a tray into the oven. “That’s amazing sweetie, I’ll watch it tomorrow when Jae-ho comes over, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching over and taking an apple from the fruit bowl.

Taking off her apron, your mom walked around the counter towards you. “Ah, your hair is all sweaty, you must have been working really hard.” She took out your hair tie, combing through your hair with her fingers.

“Ow,” you grimaced, still munching on your apple. “It was really hot.”

She laughed. “I’m sure it was.”

“There she is!” The sound of your grandma’s voice made you turn around. She smiled as she came towards you. “Let’s get you bathed before dinner.”

“Do I have to?” you grumbled.

Your grandma paused, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”

Laughing, you hopped off the stool and ran towards the door. “It’s you, grandma!”

“What?!” She laughed with mock surprise, looking at your mom. “Is it me?”

“Hm…” Your mom paused and played along, sniffing your grandma. “Nu-uh.” She looked at you. “I think it’s coming from our pretty princess over there.”

“I thought so,” your grandma smiled, before she and your mom proceeded to chase you through the house while you ran down the corridors and laughed gleefully. As you jumped on your parents bed, trying to make a beeline for their bathroom door, your mom caught you, cuddling you and smothering you in kisses before you eventually had to have a bath. Your grandma styled your hair in a ponytail with a pretty headband of your choice. You chose a blue one to match your dress and together you made your way downstairs.

As you entered the living room, your dad turned around and behind him stood a tall man with dark hair neatly slicked back.

“Y/N, honey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” your dad said, smiling reassuringly as he took your hand.

You’d met a lot of your dad’s friends and they all seemed nice. But this man was different. He didn’t look kind at all. As you approached, your attention was stolen by a boy standing close behind the man. He looked around your age, with brown hair and brown eyes. His cheeks were round and rosy which gave him a playful and friendly appearance, except for the unmistakable fact that he looked scared.

“This is my friend, Jihoon, and his son, Jimin.”

At first you felt nervous, looking between your dad and the big stern looking man beside him. Glancing at your grandma, you eased up when she nudged you and smiled.

“Why don’t you say hello, Y/N?” she said.

Your dad kneeled down as you looked up at the man. “You can say hello if you want, sweetie.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N,” the man said, his lips curving into what must’ve meant to have been a smile — you thought it made him look scarier. “I’m your uncle Jihoon.” He extended his hand.

Timidly, you shook it. Then your gaze fell to the boy standing behind him.

“Jimin.” Jihoon’s voice was suddenly sharp as he summoned his son to come forward.

Looking up at his father in what you could only interpret as fear, he took a few steps forward and stopped in front of you. “Hello, I’m Jimin,” he said quietly, putting his hand forward just like his father did.

“Hi, Jimin,” you said, reaching for his hand and shaking it once. “I’m Y/N.”

6 years later 17th July 2009

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, bringing in ample light to the summer room. Arranged messily on the table were pots of paint and brushes with a few complete canvases surrounding you as you worked. The canvas in front of you was a mix of vibrant colours, some careful strokes and others wild splashes you had crafted as you concentrated hard, your hand gripping the brush as you attempted to follow your father’s lead.

He had almost completed his piece, after many days working on it. A black sky tinged with deep hues of blue, and a single spear of lightning emerged through dark, swirling clouds, casting a pale, cold light reflecting off of the tempestuous sea of violent waves.

“Oh no,” you frowned, sitting back to get a better look at your work. “I ruined it.”

Your dad glanced over, smiling softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just different now, which is good.”

“But it doesn’t look how I wanted. It’s messy now.”

Your dad paused, getting up from his position in front of his much more professional easel to come and look at your work. Then, he dipped his brush in one of the colours you created and added a soft swirl, then another. You watched quietly as he added more.

“Things don’t always turn out how we want them to, sweetheart. That happens a lot in life. But you can always choose what to do next, even when things get messy.”

“What do you mean?”

Your dad set the paint brush down and sat on the chair next to you. Lines creased his forehead, his expression becoming sombre. It was something you’d been noticing more over the past few years.

“Y/N, there will be times when everything around us feels messy or wrong — like people are not being kind, or things not going how we planned. You can’t always change that. But what you can control is how you act, even when everything feels hard. Being a good person means doing the right thing, even when the world around you isn’t.”

You frowned, thinking hard. “But what if people are mean, or if bad things happen? How do I be good when that’s happening?”

Your dad smiled warmly. “It’s like painting. Sometimes, you’ll have dark colors, or you’ll make a mistake. But you get to decide what comes next. You can add light, bring in something beautiful, even if the first stroke didn’t go how you wanted. You don’t have to paint what’s around you—you can paint what’s in here.” Gently, he tapped your chest over your heart.

Looking down, you began to understand. “So… even if everything’s messy, I can still make something pretty?”

“Exactly. You can always choose to do the right thing, to be kind, to help someone, even if others aren’t. It’s not always easy, but that’s what makes it important. Being a good person isn’t about waiting for things to be perfect, it’s about being good, even when things aren’t.”

You nodded, picking up your paintbrush and adding a swirl of your own. “Like this?”

With a grin, your dad nodded. “That’s perfect. You see? No matter how dark or messy things seem, you can always choose to make it better.”

“I want to do that, dad. I want to make things better, like you do.”

Your dad smiled, pulling you into a hug. “You already do, sweetheart.”

You hugged him back, smiling when you felt him kiss the top of your head. Pulling away, you hopped off the chair. “What about yours? Is it finished?”

“I think so.”

“Lightning… is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

You looked at your dad and noticed he looked sad. “Are you not friends anymore?”

He shook his head, a smile returning. “We are. Dad’s just being silly.” He patted your shoulder gently. “Come on, let’s go have dinner. All this painting has made me hungry.”

Dinner passed peacefully that night with your parents and grandparents conversing as they always did, and you spent most of the time poking your mom’s belly to try to get your growing baby brother to respond.

Then, as soon as your dad finished eating, he got a text. Everyone on the dinner table went quiet and for a moment, you were forgotten.

“It’s Han-jae,” your dad said quietly. “He’s asked to see me.”

Your granddad exhaled slowly and you saw how your mothers hand tensed around her fork.

“I told you not to get involved,” she murmured, looking at your dad with worry.

He reached for her hand, caressing it gently. “I had to, love, you know that.”

“Why you?” she implored, almost desperately. “Why couldn’t you ask someone else.”

“I don’t know who to trust right now, Jihoon hasn’t been himself lately.”

“Jihoon is the same as always, he’s a cold man,” your mother answered.

“Sae-yi is right. Jihoon has always been a heartless person.”

“Perhaps that’s why I can’t trust him with this."

“Then don’t." Your mom took your fathers hands in both of hers. “But do you have to go?”

Your dads face gave her the answer and she sighed, grip loosening on his hand.

“Honey,” he whispered, closing his hand around hers firmly again and leaning in. “I’ll have my men with me, we’ll be back within an hour, I promise.” Smiling, he kissed her on the lips. “I’ve known Han-jae almost all my life, nothing’s going to happen.”

Your mother’s worried expression didn’t falter. “He’s the one who’s changed. I don’t trust him, not after what he was going to do to Jiyoung.”

“I know,” your dad said, moving his hand in to hold your mom's cheek. “And that’s why I can’t let him know anything’s up, Ji-young isn’t safely out of the country yet so I should go.”

Leaning into his touch, your mom sighed. “Your heart's too big for this world, Sehun.”

Your dad smiled, pressing his forehead against hers and placing his hand on her swollen tummy. “It’s just big enough for you and my beautiful family.” He looked across at you sitting beside your mother and took your hand too, kissing it softly. “Look after your mama while I’m away, and we’ll have some dessert when I get back, okay?”

You nodded, confused yet reassured by your father’s smile. Nodding back, your dad kissed your mother once more before saying goodbye to your grandparents too. Your mom and granddad walked him out while your grandma stayed with you and made you finish your dinner.

The first half hour passed as normal. You stayed sitting with your grandma while your mom and granddad spoke privately in the kitchen. That was nothing new to you, you’d grown up with the adults having many private conversations out of earshot, so nothing felt off… until another fifteen minutes later.

Your mom wouldn’t stop pacing back and forth, her phone in her hand. “Neither of them are replying to my texts. He always replies, always.” You could hear the panic in her voice, the slight tremor that shook you deeply inside.

Then your grandma had the maid get you ready for bed, and you couldn’t hear what the grown-ups were whispering anymore. You were used to being sent to bed like this so you did what you always did — you sat by your bedroom window to watch the blacked out cars that usually come and go in the driveway. Except this time there weren’t any cars so instead you clambered on to your bed to read a book while you waited for your dad.

As you grew bored, you remembered your dad promised to be back within the hour… glancing at the clock in your room, you realised he was late. 26 minutes late.

A pit of worry grew in your stomach and you wished to be near your mom, so you got out of bed and walked to the door, your favourite book in your hand as you hoped to read to your little brother like you’d done so many times before.

Clutching it tightly, you walked out of your room towards the staircase, and then you heard it — your mothers heart wrenching scream.

At that moment, you knew your dad wasn’t going to be coming back home.

present day

“One cappuccino please, and a croissant too.”

Without looking up from where you’re still folding the tea towels, you respond to the customer. “To eat in or takeaway?”

“Eat in.”

“Coming right up.” You fold the last one, patting it down before turning to face the customer. “That’ll be 9000 won plea– oh.” You pause, looking at the man behind the counter. “Hello again.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He smiles warmly, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his black trenchcoat.

“Ah, you remember my name.”

“And you don’t remember mine,” he grins, nodding his head when you wince apologetically. “Seojun.”

“Seojun,” you repeat. “I’ll remember that now, I promise.”

He chuckles, placing a 50000 won note on the counter. “Don’t sweat it. And keep the change,” he says, turning around to seat himself at the closest table.

You pick it up, shaking your head. “Again?”

He folds his coat over the empty chair beside him before smoothing down the lapels of his suit jacket. “Yes, and don’t try to give me an extra muffin to make up for it.”

You deposit the bill into the till and put the change in the tip jar. Glancing at him, you see him looking over his shoulder out the window. “Did you at least like it?”

Seojun turns back and smiles. “Nope.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just being honest, I’m not a fan of blueberries,” he shrugs. “If you’re gonna give me anything, I'll take another coffee to go, iced americano this time.”

“Hmph, whatever,” you mumble, getting to work on his cappuccino. “I worked on that muffin recipe for weeks.”

“Try less baking powder maybe?” You shoot him a look when he says this and he puts his hands up defensively. “Or not.”

“Maybe if you weren’t tipping so much, I wouldn’t have to give you a muffin,” you say, steaming the milk for his drink.

“There’s a jar there for a reason,” he points out, nodding to the tip jar on the counter which you’ve kept there for your younger employees on top of the generous wage you pay them.

“Fair.” You finish preparing his cappuccino and plate up the croissant, walking over to his table. “Just don’t diss my muffins.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, doing little to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes, smiling as you place his order down. “Here.”

“Sit with me,” he says, kicking the seat out from in front of him.

Pausing, you look at the only other occupied table. They seem fine, so you take Seojun’s offer, getting yourself a muffin and slipping into the seat while he looks over his shoulder again.

“Expecting someone?” you ask, breaking off a piece.

“Hm?” He faces forward again, quickly shaking off the serious expression on his face. “Oh, no.” Smiling, he takes a sip of his coffee.

“How’s your girlfriend?” you ask, remembering the last conversation you had with him in which he told you all about his plans to surprise his girlfriend with a handcrafted bracelet made by himself. Apparently the diamonds from Tiffany’s just don’t feel special to him anymore.

You smiled when he said that to you – it reminded you of your dad. It was easy enough to walk into a store and order the most expensive jewels, so he preferred to pour his time and effort into surprising your mom with paintings. He was good at it too, something you’ve grown to be envious of since you can’t say he passed the same talent to you.

Seojun smiles. “She’s good. Loved the bracelet.”

This makes you smile. “I’m glad.”

“How’s your grandma?”

“She’s great,” you nod. The last conversation you had with Seojun, was actually also the first. He walked into the cafe last week and immediately started a conversation with you. At first, you were slightly wary, but you’re always cautious so you went along with it. He’s a nice guy, and truthfully, you were glad for a change from all the college gossip you were used to hearing from your younger employees. They have a lot of drama, some of which bores you.

Speaking with Seojun just seems familiar, like speaking with an old friend.

“How’s her gallery?”

“Busy. She barely even calls me these days.”

Seojun chuckles. “Maybe you should visit her, I’m sure she’d like it.”

At this, you pause, smiling. “I should. It’s been a while since I've seen her.” Your fork pokes aimlessly at the muffin. “I’ve just been a bit busy.”

“With the cafe?”

“Huh?” You look at Seojun, only to catch him looking back towards you just in time. That’s the third time he’s looked over his shoulder.

“I asked if you’re busy with the cafe,” he repeats, quickly looking down to take a bite of his croissant.

“Well, yeah,” you lie, also looking down. It’s a simple answer when the truth is more complicated.

Seojun looks at you, eyes slightly rounded in concern. “It might be a good idea to take a break, no? Get out of Seoul and stay with her for a while.”

This gives you pause, and you stare at him. “I don’t think I'll be leaving Seoul for a while,” you answer, watching him carefully.

But before he can respond, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing in your back pocket. Pulling it out, you see your grandma is calling. Glancing up at Seojun, he’s now looking down at his half empty cup while tensely rubbing his thumb against the side of his tight fist.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, getting up and answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N, sweetheart?”

You frown, immediately hearing something off in her tone. Looking back over your shoulder, you see Seojun looking through his suit pockets for something. You face forward again. “Yes, it’s me. Are you okay? You don’t normally call this early.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the phone as you hear your grandma let out a small sigh. “I’m well,” she says. “I just needed to make sure you’re fine.”

“I am, but you already know that,” you remind her. “I called you this morning.”

“I know.” There’s another soft silence.

“Did something happen?” you ask, an uncertain feeling brewing in your chest. Your grandma has never had any reason to call like this before. Maybe if she knew of the midnight runs you frequently went on, she would, but as it happens, she doesn’t. You’ve made sure of that by having Yoongi promise to keep it from her, and his own father, Min Hyun-tae who is the closest confidante of your grandma.

Eventually, she answers. “I heard there’s been some trouble with the Cheong’s and… ah, never mind. I was just worried.”

You frown – Yoongi should’ve told you this too. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t worry about it, just stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Moni, what is it–”

“Y/N,” she interrupts, her voice suddenly stern. “Whatever it is, it’ll pass over in a few days.”

Holding your tongue, you exhale heavily through your nose. You know your grandma is only this protective of you to keep you safe and she has every reason to worry, which makes it harder that you have to lie to her so often.

“Okay. Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

Your grandma chuckles. “I’m living a quiet life here in Namwon, dear. Don’t worry about me.”

She’s safe, you remind yourself. Away from the memories and danger here in Seoul. “Okay, I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too. Bye now.”

Ending the call, you can’t ignore the feeling that remains in your chest, and when you turn around, you’re surprised to see that Seojun has gone. All that’s left on the table is the dishes and his receipt. Drawing closer, you see he’s scribbled something on the back of it: She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her.

In the two conversations you’ve had with Seojun, you haven’t once mentioned any other family member, and he never asked, yet he seems to know that it’s just you and her left…

Suddenly, it occurs to you that maybe Seojun knows who you are.

After your father was killed, your granddad went to great lengths to protect the rest of you, which included keeping your family information strictly secure – even now if you were to go down to a police station, they would have trouble finding much information on you except what you want them to know. Only someone who knows your family could know that it’s just you and her, because your mother’s medical records of her death following her cardiac arrest during early labour are completely unobtainable, as are your granddad’s after his pneumonia.

Looking out of the cafe window, you scan the streets and see no sign of Seojun anywhere.

You need to call Yoongi. That’s the first thing you need to do and after that, you’ll look into Seojun. Your conversation with him and your grandma is still playing on your mind, even now as you rush down the streets to get to your car.

As you brush past people, you accidentally bump into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, looking towards the face of the guy you just bumped into.

He smiles, shaking his head as he pats your arm. “Don’t worry.”

Pursing your lips, you nod and smile before resuming your walk. Another twenty minutes later, you’re pulling up towards the gate of your home. Although it’s a modest sized house (still slightly larger than the average), your grandma insisted on your extra security.

“Good evening, miss,” your guard, Dani, calls out, smiling and waving as she opens the gate from her station.

“Hey, Dani,” you smile, slowing the car down next to her to talk through the window. “Anything today?”

She jumps up onto the ledge, shaking her head. “Nope. A camera around the back picked up some movement just a little while ago but Siho checked it out, was nothing...”

You’re barely paying attention to her as your mind still wanders on Seojun.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you look at her, slightly startled.

Dani smiles. “Long day?”

“Something like that.”

Her expression softens. “Make sure you eat well tonight, hm?”

“I will,” you nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure.” She waves you on as you drive further onto your property, parking in the driveway.

Dani and Siho are the guards you employed when your grandma told you to. They both have a past in the military but retired early for whatever reason (they don’t talk about it much and you don’t ask). In truth, you’re very grateful to them – some nights it’s easier to sleep knowing they’re helping to look out for you.

Grabbing your purse from the passenger seat, you get out of your car and walk towards the house.

Everything seems normal as you unlock the front door, entering the wide hallway downstairs – you have no reason to notice the drops of blood by the kitchen door – so you take your shoes off and hang your coat and bag in the cloakroom as you normally would before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

But when you get to the top, you halt, noticing something. Far less obvious than droplets of blood, it’s the sight of your bedroom door left slightly open. You always close your bedroom door. It’s just a habit you’ve always had to close the door when you leave…

Immediately, your senses become more alert, your ears perking up for any noise in the house. It’s odd, you don’t understand how anyone could’ve gotten into the house as long as Dani and Siho have been guarding the house. Unless, thinking back on the day, you know you have good reason to be on alert.

So you tread silently towards your room, kicking it open and—

Nothing. Your room is exactly as you left it this morning. You relax after checking a few possible hiding spots and finding them empty. But still, you know to be more cautious than this, so you take the handgun from the drawer in your nightstand and check all the other rooms.

The metal feels light in your hand, even though you’ve never actually used this particular gun since Hyun-tae gave it to you on the night of the only break-in at the home in Namwon. You were only sixteen, wide-eyed and terrified when he told you to stay with your grandma and not come out until he came back.

The gun was a last resort, of course you knew that the many men guarding the house would intercept whoever was threatening what was left of your family, but even then, it made you feel safer, more sure of yourself. Just as it does now while you walk through your house, alert for any movements.

Your body freezes as you spot the droplets of blood on the floor.

Now that’s not your blood.

Muscle memory takes over as your thumb moves to cock the gun. Your heart beats harder in your chest, every sense on high alert as you silently stand behind the kitchen door.

Holding your breath, you can make out the quiet sounds of heavy, laboured breathing… you inch slowly towards the edge as far as you can to peer in and see no one from where you are.

Exhaling slowly, you count down to three before stepping into the kitchen, gun aimed as you quickly scan the kitchen and then you see the intruder, the aim of your gun following your sight.

Collapsed on the floor against your kitchen wall, a tall man holds his hand against his chest where a deep red stain spoils the white shirt of his suit. He looks up at you, face desperate yet determined.

“Don’t shoot, it’s me.”

Flicking on your kitchen light, you stare at him for a second until you recognise him… “Seojun?” A knot of uncertainty and fear tightens in the pit of your stomach.

Immediately you uncock your gun, rushing over to him. “What happened? Why are you here?” You reach for his wound to apply pressure but his bloodied hand closes around yours, stopping you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Looking up, you meet his gaze and the fear in his expression sends shivers down your spine despite you being confused. “Let me help you,” you say shakily, hands moving to his wound again.

Seojun weakly shakes his head, trying to reach for your arm again. “No, Y/N, you need to leave,” he says, voice firm despite his severe injury.

“You need an ambulance,” you say, ignoring the slight tremble of your hands. “I’ll call an ambu—”

“No,” he interrupts, pulling on your hand again before crying out quickly from the quick movement. “Your guards,” he breathes, “they’ll keep you safe, Jimin will keep you safe, you need to go.”

The sound of him in pain sends panic rushing through you and yet he still seems adamant about what he’s saying. “W-what are you talking about?” your voice is still shaky as you ignore the firm hold of his hand on your wrist to keep pressure on him.

Seojun cries out quietly again but still fumbles for something in his suit jacket pocket. He pulls out a small black flash drive, thrusting it into your chest. “Give this to Jimin, tell him to use it.”

Eyes wide, you take the flash drive from him and slip it into your back jean pocket.

“You can’t let anyone else get it,” he continues, breathing hard as he winces in pain. “No one except him.”

“Okay,” you nod, squeezing his palm gently to reassure him although your mind is still stuck on trying to process the bleeding man in your kitchen to even take in what he’s saying. “I promise, now let me call you an ambulance—”

“There’s no time, I’m sorry, they’re coming,” he says, desperately now. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“Seojun, what—“

The sound of a window being smashed at the front of your house cuts the words off in your throat and Seojun’s hand tightens around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he says, voice firmer and louder than before. “Go.”

You look back at him, heart pounding frantically in your chest as you hear multiple voices coming from somewhere in your house. Seojun starts to stand up, using you to help him.

He’s leaning against the wall, the fatal wound to his chest forgotten as he pulls his gun out and grasps you tightly around the arm. “Now.”

The voices outside get louder, and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to listen to Seojun – you need to go.

Closing your fingers around your own gun again, you nod, pushing down the part of you that wants to stay with Seojun. He’s injured and you know if he doesn’t get help now he’s going to bleed out. However, you also know a fatal wound when you see one, and so does Seojun.

He’s filling the barrel of his gun with bullets as the voices get louder and you know that he’s about to buy you the time you need to get away. Because of that, you do as he asks.

Blinking back tears, you step away from him and towards the back door of the kitchen while cocking your gun again. Before you even get there, the kitchen window is being smashed in and you coil instinctively to avoid the flying shards of glass.

From somewhere behind you, you hear Seojun yell your name but you’re now focused on the man who’s standing ahead of you with a hammer in his hand. Gun raised, you shoot at him but he darts sideways before swinging his arm towards you with the hammer.

He misses you by an inch as you duck and aim your gun at him again. But before you can shoot, he grabs the gun and tugs hard, pulling you into his body. With a loud grunt, he raises the hammer and gets ready to take another swing at you, except the sound of three shots firing pierce the air and his body falls to the floor beside you.

Head turning around wildly, you see Seojun still leaning against the wall with his gun aimed towards you. He just saved your life. Before you can even get the words out to thank him, two more men jump through the kitchen window and the voices from out in the hallway show their faces.

There’s half a dozen of them in total and you have no way out now. Seojun pulls on your hand to keep you close to him and it dawns on you now that this isn’t like anything you’re used to – these men are trained fighters, not just some lousy guards put out to watch a warehouse or defend a shipment of weapons. You’ve trained since a young age too, so you know you could at least fight them one on one, but this is different. These men are dangerous and you have no doubt that they’re the ones who put the fatal bullet into Seojun.

As you look around at them, you find yourself staring at one of them… he looks familiar and it suddenly returns to you that he’s the man who bumped into you outside your cafe–

“Y/N,” Seojun whispers harshly, “help is coming so run as soon as you get the chance, okay?”

You nod subtly, watching as the men part for one of them, undoubtedly their leader, to step closer. He’s a tall man, butch and quite frankly, frightening. His eyes are focused on Seojun and his upper lip curls as he sneers.

“...All of that, for nothing.” His voice is emotionless and laced with wickedness, as he seems to delight in seeing life leaving the once healthy body in front of him.

“Oh shut up, Minjun,” Seojun gets out breathlessly, grimacing in pain as he does.

Minjun laughs hollowly, coming closer still. “I’d love to see Park’s reaction to this, his favourite little pup won’t be crawling back to him tonight.”

Your hand tightens around your pistol but you remain still – even you aren’t stupid enough to think you can shoot this man without receiving multiple bullets in return.

“Just shoot me then,” Seojun mutters, shifting on his feet as he struggles to stay standing.

Minjun scoffs amusedly. “Not just yet. I’ve got questions for you first…” He looks your way and an icy shiver runs down your spine. “Who’s this?”

“I don’t know, this is the first house I found for shelter,” Seojun answers, his voice laced with desperation. “Just take me, she’s innocent.”

Minjun pauses, his eyes lowering to the gun in your hand. “Innocent?”

“Yes, she knows nothing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Minjun says as he walks forward again, closing the distance.

“Minjun,” Seojun says, voice raised. “I’m here, I know everything you want to know, not her–”

As though an invisible fuse has been cut, Minjun loses his temper and throws a heavy punch to Seojun’s jaw, flooring him instantly.

“Seojun,” you gasp, kneeling beside him as a raspy groan escapes him. Fear travels through your body in waves as you see blood beginning to pool out from beside him.

When you meet his gaze, there’s a distant glassiness to his eyes which stand out against his pale, clammy skin.

You’ve been in plenty of fist fights before, you’ve been in real danger and have had to fight your way out of it, but this – being someone you care about – this is something entirely new to you and for the first time in a long time, you’re frightened.

“She knows nothing, hm?” Minjun scoffs. “She clearly knows you.”

Reaching out for Seojun’s hand, you look at the man towering above you, ready to beg. “Please–”

“Y/N!” Siho’s familiar voice fills the air and you freeze.

She appears at the kitchen door, glock raised as she looks around wildly at all the men who are pointing their own right back at her. She clearly wasn’t expecting anything like this and her eyes find you and she looks at you fearfully. “What–”

“Siho, go,” your voice trembles as you call out to her, but it’s too late. Two shots pierce through the air and you watch as your friend drops dead to the floor in front of you.

A hollowness fills your chest. “No,” you whisper, mindlessly releasing Seojun’s hand to move to her but before you can get anywhere, Minjun is kicking you hard in the chest and you get pushed back to the wall. Only now do you realise how hard you’re breathing, the shaky breaths causing your shoulders to rise as you feel your back sink against the wall.

“Something you should know,” he says slowly, inspecting the shaft of his gun as he crouches in front of you almost mockingly after he just shot your friend, before he looks right at you. “I don't like being interrupted. Now, tell me who you are, and don’t lie.”

Minjun’s gaze is terrifying and intense; you can’t bring yourself to look at him so you close your eyes and turn your head away from him.

But he doesn’t take well to that so he draws his hand back and it lands on your face with a sharp sting.

Despite being afraid, you manage to turn your head towards him and goosebumps prickle your skin when he stares at you.

His face is marred with deep lines and red marks, some fresh and some old. Half of one brow looks as though it’s been burnt off and his nose is so deformed it looks as though it has been broken over and over.

“Answer me,” he growls with a piercing stare.

Before you can even answer, you hear the sound of a gun cocking next to you. Seojun has his gun aimed at Minjun but he’s lost too much blood, his mind disorientated as he tries to press the trigger.

“Ha!” Minjun laughs, effortlessly taking the gun free from his hand. “What an idiot.” He shakes his head, looking down at the gun before shrugging and pulling the trigger.

“No!” you cry, body jerking backwards as you become paralysed at the sight of Seojun’s body going limp, his eyes becoming lifeless as his head rolls to the side and he moves no more. A choked sob escapes your throat but you don't even have a second to process it.

“Come here, darling.” Minjun places his hand on your shoulder gently. His other hand rests on your face and you shudder when you feel the callused thumb swipe the tears off your cheeks. “Look at me.” He speaks softly but you know better than to fall for that.

His finger hooks under your chin and he lifts your head up to make you look at him. When your eyes meet his, you freeze.

“Just tell me what you know, sweetheart, and we’ll let you go,” he coaxes, nodding his head with a malicious grin on his face.

“I–I don’t know any-anything. Plea–“

Mjnjun’s fist crashes into your face as your body involuntarily jerks towards the floor.

Pain sears through you, blinding you and all you can do is gasp from shock, feeling blood trickle down your skin.

“I told you not to lie,” Minjun growls, dragging you up by your shoulders. You have no strength left to lift yourself or even try to resist, not that you would.

“Now tell me, what do you know?”

He shakes you violently as he speaks but you don’t respond, still adjusting to the pain which only worsens as the salty tears silently stream down your face. Now your breaths are uneven and with each draw, you feel more suffocated, unable to even think past the image of Seojun’s lifeless body.

Your silence serves as an answer for Minjun. He punches you straight in the ribs and watches emotionless as you keel over in pain. A cry escapes you, though you don’t feel it – your mind feels like a completely separate entity from your body.

So when you hear the sound of feet scuffling and Dani’s voice crying out your name, you can only stay hunched over on the floor.

“Caught her trying to contact someone, boss,” one of the men holding her says gruffly, tossing her phone to Minjun.

Dani looks across the room, her eyes doubling back to where Siho lies dead in a pool of her own blood. You can see the fear and regret in her eyes as she meets your gaze. “I’m sorry,” she mouths.

You don’t have time to do anything before Minjun gives a curt nod in the direction of the door, and then she’s being dragged away from you by four guards needed to restrain her. Seconds later, a single shot sounds.

It leaves you feeling numb, unable to do anything as Minjun drags you to your feet by your collar.

“Two guards and this one…” he kicks Seojun. “You’re clearly someone. What’s your name?” he hisses, his patience clearly having run out long ago – the three dead bodies in your home prove that.

Words don’t leave your mouth and your gaze falls helplessly to Siho’s body. Tears well in your eyes and a harsh sob escapes from your throat.

“Fucking useless,” Minjun muttters, pushing you against the wall. “Search her,” he commands one of his men beside him.

At this point, you don’t even remember the little device in your pocket. You’re simply numb from everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes and when your eyes land on Seojun’s body and his glassy orbs staring emptily at the floor, you just want to scream.

But you don’t. You physically can’t.

Hands pat you down, starting along your arms, slipping inside your shirt to feel under your arms, around your back, groping your chest, all around your abdomen, and up and down your legs. You remain entirely helpless as they do so.

Then they start searching your pockets.

… Your gaze moves to the door, where Dani lies outside.

First your cardigan pockets. Empty.

… Across from you is Siho, the glock she was going to use to save you resting ahead of her.

Then your front jeans pockets. Empty.

… Your head turns, meeting the vacant gaze of Seojun – you feel your stomach flip and a spark of indignation catches in your throat. Subconsciously, your fists curl.

Then your back jeans pockets. A hand pulls out the small black device and he holds it up in front of him, directly between you and Minjun who raises his brow in mock amusement.

“What a pretty little liar you are?” he snickers, stepping closer to take the flash drive in his hands.

You don’t respond, but collapse to the floor as the men let go of you. From fear? Exhaustion? Grief? You don’t know.

Then Minjun comes towards you, pulling a small knife from his back pocket. “You just wasted my time, beautiful…” He grabs you by your throat and pulls you up to your feet.

The feeling of his strong hand pressing into your larynx returns you to your senses as the real threat of being killed looms over you.

Minjun trails the sharp edge of the knife along your cheek, down towards your neck. He leans forward and speaks low. “I don‘t take well to that…” The stench of him fills your nostrils, and the knife presses against your skin. One more glance at Seojun, and suddenly, you snap.

Your knee comes up hard and you grab a hold of Minjun’s wrist, yanking it back with all your strength to twist his body in front of you.

“Sir!”

The voices of his men shouting drown out his low groans as he now stands, disarmed and held in a tight lock in front of you. You're holding him by his arm twisted backwards around his back and your other hand grabs the gun at his waist, a SIG Sauer pistol – it feels secure in your hand and you press the barrel to Minjun’s head. Adrenaline starts to surge through you as your mind races, completely forgetting about Minjun’s other hand hanging free at his side.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot him,” you warn his men, backing up towards the window.

Minjun chuckles a low chuckle. “Will you now?”

“Yes,” you answer through gritted teeth, moving back with him towards the back door.

“Liar.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you hiss, anger swelling in your chest.

Minjun laughs again, coming to a stop despite your grip on him. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? I know you won’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” Fingers digging tightly into his skin, you drag his head back and shoot him straight in the calf. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Minjun falls to his knees, a string of swear words leaving his mouth and his weight pulls you down with him. “Your first mistake was fucking lying to me,” he heaves, fingers grabbing your jaw tightly.

A sharp pain shoots down your wrist. You cry out as Minjun’s blade cuts through your skin, the gun almost dropping from your hand as you grab your bleeding wrist.

He tries to retrieve the gun, struggling to get back to his feet but you step back just in time.

“You’re lucky I can’t kill you right here,” Minjun snarls, facing you as he pushes away the guards who try to help him up. “But once Lee is done with you, I swear I’m going to fucki–“

Bang.

“FUCK!” Minjun staggers, falling backwards with his hand pressed against his shoulder, very close to his chest where blood spreads staining his white shirt crimson.

Another shot sounds and one of Minjun’s men goes down. Then another, and another.

“Park,” Minjun growls, pure rage flashing in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill you!” Despite the two wounds to his shoulder and leg, he gets up and grabs a gun from the closest man. “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” he yells. “Shoot the bastards!”

Within a second, the air is filled with the sounds of shots firing and you drop to the ground, crawling as fast as you can out of the way. Their shots are returned from outside but the majority of your house is surrounded entirely by trees so you can’t see where they’re coming from.

As you go, you spot the flash drive on the floor and Seojun’s face comes to mind. He died for whatever is on there. Reaching out, you grab the device without a second's hesitation. When you get behind the kitchen island, you quickly stuff the drive in your pocket. Pain still shoots down your arm and there’s blood dripping from you, staining the tiles. When you look up, you realise there’s blood everywhere.

“Show me your fucking face, Park!” Minjun rages, shooting all over the place, but he’s also bleeding heavily now, the front of his shirt rapidly being dyed red. His men are dying all around him as they shoot aimlessly out the window and you snatch a gun from the closest one, looking up just in time to see the last man fall. There’s only you and Minjun left.

He curses as the last man goes down, head whipping towards you. Drawing a pocket knife out from his waist, he lunges towards you but you slide backwards on the floor, aiming the gun at his head.

“Don’t,” you warn breathlessly.

His upper lip curls. “Fucking bitch.” He holds his gun up to you. “You’re useless to me.”

There’s no question that he’s about to shoot and you’re ready to do the same, but before that can happen, three men dressed in all black suits come barging into your kitchen and another two through the window.

Minjun shouts in frustration, shooting at you which you narrowly avoid by sliding behind the kitchen island. As you go, you see the tallest of the three men disarm Minjun with ease.

“You’re too late,” Minjun says, voice low as he turns around.

One of them steps forward, a man whose features look incredibly familiar to you.

He aims his gun straight at Minjun’s head. The look on his face is fierce and his gaze is steady. “Where is he?”

Minjun laughs weakly, the energy slowly draining from his body.

The man’s jaw tenses and he kicks Minjun's knee out from beneath him. His movements are sharp, agile — it’s clear to you that he’s done this many times before.

Minjun falls to his knees, his laugh subsiding into a weak raspy breath. He looks up with no fear and no remorse. “I told you, you’re too late.” He looks in the direction of Seojun’s body, and the man’s gaze follows.

His mouth twitches and you can see the grief that fills his face as he stares at the body, but it only takes a few seconds for it to change into unmistakable anger. In a split second, his arm is raised and he shoots Minjun in his thigh.

At first, Minjun cries out, falling to his side as blood pools from him rapidly. Then he laughs remorselessly like a madman. “Which of your boys will be next, Park?”

Familiarity hits you there and then – Park Jimin. As you watch him step towards Minjun, you realise how different this man looks from the young boy you once played tag with in your home.

Jimin doesn’t miss his mark as he throws a hard punch across Minjun’s face, nor does he wait a second before punching him again… and again… and again. Your stomach turns as Minjun still laughs between each throw, almost taunting Jimin to keep going, even when he’s choking on his own blood.

Gathering a fistful of hair, Jimin pulls Minjun’s head back and pulls out his gun. He holds it to his head.

Minjun coughs, blood spattering Jimin’s crisp white shirt. “Do it,” he rasps. “An eye for an eye, eh, Park?” Minjun chuckles, the sound getting lost as he coughs weakly again.

Jimin however, goes incredibly still, gaze piercing into Minjun.

“Your old man knew more than you ever will–” he coughs again, breaths slowing down– “it’s taking you too long to learn, boy. The Lee’s will come for every fucking person you care about, make you watch as they bleed out in front of ya,” he sneers, licking blood off his lips. “Then they’ll kill you like it’s nothing.”

Of the many emotions showing on Jimin’s face, fear isn’t one of them.

Unnervingly calm, Jimin speaks. “I’m not going to kill you.” Tracing the barrel of his gun down Minjun’s cheek, he pushes it under his throat. “No, that would be too easy.”

Jimin holds out his gun and with immediate understanding, one of his men, with dark curls steps forward and takes the gun and place a small Gerber knife in his hand instead.

Grip tightening on on his hair, Jimin lifts the man and turns his head in the direction of Seojun, ignoring the grunts of pain from him. Looking away from Seojun, Jimin keeps Minjun’s head facing that way as he speaks. “You don’t deserve an easy way out.” Slowly, he pushes the knife into Minjun’s shoulder and twists.

Minjun tries to keep down the pain but fails to do so, falling to his knees again.

“See?” Jimin looks down, eyes deadly focused on Minjun. “Just like this.” He twists deeper. “I’m going to cut you apart, and then piece you back together. And I’ll do it over and over.”

“Then what?” Minjun rasps.

Jimin pulls the knife out, throwing it to the floor in front of Minjun. Blood splatters on the tiles and Minjun’s head lowers.

“You’ll see.”

With another wordless gesture, the two tallest men drag Minjun away somewhere and out of sight.

Once they’ve left, the room is silent aside from Jimin’s slow steady breaths. His gaze travels towards where Seojun’s body lies and you watch him carefully as he walks across the room, dropping his gun to the floor to kneel beside Seojun.

Jimin’s expression softens and he gently takes Seojun’s hand into his own, and just like that, you’re reminded of the boy you once knew. He brings the back of Seojun’s palm to his mouth and he places a kiss on his skin. As he lowers his hand to rest over his chest, his round eyes water, but he blinks once and it’s gone.

“Jimin.” One of his men, a tall, slender man with chestnut hair, calls his name. When Jimin looks at him, his gaze immediately lands on you.

You instinctively rise at the same time he does, raising the gun you hold in your hand.

Yes, you knew Jimin once, but many years have passed and you’d be stupid not to be wary.

“Don’t come near me.” You swallow hard, having to press your back against the wall as you feel incredibly weak, but you can’t let this show.

Jimin says nothing as he takes a small step, eyes locking with yours and for a split second you almost lower your gun when you see something familiar in those brown eyes of his.

Then one of his other men, a well built man with long dark curls held back in a bun, draws your attention. “Miss,” he says politely. “We just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help, just get out of my house.” Your voice tightens as you look at Siho’s body. You force your gaze away.

Jimin takes another step, watching you carefully. “You…” he murmurs, hesitating as a soft frown appears on his face before he shakes his head once. “Why did Seojun come here?” He asks, voice softer than when he spoke with Minjun, but the question is enough to anger you and you stare at him in bewilderment.

Pushing off the wall, you walk towards him and a loud click echoes in the room as you release the safety with your thumb.

In return, three guns are cocked and aimed at you.

Jimin, however, doesn’t even blink.

“Put the gun down, miss.” The same man addresses you calmly with his finger hovering over the trigger, glancing between Jimin and you.

Now it’s you who doesn’t falter. “I don’t know why Seojun came here,” you say calmly, “and I don’t know who those men were. I’ve only ever spoken to him a few times and he never told me anything about himself. I know nothing.”

Admittedly, that’s a lie, but until you have more answers yourself, you’re not saying anything.

Jimin is quiet but his gaze is steady. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t,” you answer quietly. “But it’s my word or nothing.”

A beat of silence passes and it feels like an eternity. Your gun remains aimed at Jimin and his men hold theirs up to you, but you know they won’t shoot – there’s something sure in Jimin’s gaze as you both stand there in the middle of the room staring at each other, something that tells you you’re safe.

He doesn’t say anything at all as he looks past the barrel of your gun to hold your gaze, and for a moment you wonder if he recognises you just like you’ve recognised him, but it can’t be.

In the years since your father died, your grandma has done everything to protect you, including changing your surname and moving towns. Jimin, however, had a foot in the limelight for as long as his father was alive which is why you still manage to recognise the grown man before you.

Just as you begin to feel a wave of weakness pass over you again, Jimin looks at the man closest to him, a broad man with jet black hair. With the smallest shake of his head, his men stand down.

You let out a slow breath, lowering your own gun as Jimin turns back to you.

He looks down at your wrist and the smallest wrinkle appears between his brow. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter, hand closing over your throbbing wrist.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You almost huff impatiently. “It’s not all mine.”

Jimin pauses to look down at your thigh. “You need someone to look at that–now.”

Confused, your eyes follow and your stomach coils when you see a gash on your thigh, the blood darkening the denim of your jeans. You don’t even know when that happened.

Clenching your fists, you look back up. “I said I'll be fine.”

Contrary to your words, when you turn away a little too quickly, everything blurs and spins. Just as everything starts to go dark, you stumble backwards and Jimin is moving towards you.

The last thing you feel is warm hands closing around you, lowering you gently to the ground.

note. thank you so much for reading! please share your thoughts with me and if you have any questions ask awayyy! (especially as it only gets more intense :) the action should take a bit of a break though as we’re introduced to and learn more about the characters 😋 (also writing action is hard 😭)

#park jimin #jimin fanfic #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #pjm #jimin bts #bts jimin #bts x you #jimin imagine #jimin masterlist #jimin series #bts mafia #bts masterlist #jimin x you #jimin x oc #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin angst

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lo1k-diamonds · 3 months ago

Text

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.”

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runariya · 4 months ago

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The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 2

pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: angst, thoughts about past violence, trauma, mentions hybrid trafficking, JK is an Alpha, nightmares, being held hostage, a lot of fear, sniffing, obsession and possessiveness, mentions of branding, lmk if I forgot smth - THX word count: ~ 1.6K

a/n: Please make sure to turn on notifications to my blog if your tag doesn't work ☺️

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • masterlist • 03

You fight sleep with every ounce of strength you’ve got left, a desperate battle that’s been raging for four long hours now, despite the way your body trembles with bone-deep exhaustion. Since the branding, since the wolf hybrid had you cleaned and cared for again by the retrievers, you’ve been brought back to his penthouse and then ushered into a different room, apart from the others. It’s nothing like the dirty, grimy holes they’ve kept you in for the past few weeks—it actually looks like a proper guest room this time. Still, there’s no peace for you here. You don’t want peace here, you don’t want your thoughts to quiet down. You refuse to let them. So, there’s nothing left but for you to strain your ears to catch every sound from beyond the door, refuse to think, refuse to consider this place, this room, this life, as anything close to home.

But your body is failing you. No matter how hard you try to stay alert, your mind slips under, sleep overtakes you, pulling you into its abyss at last. Not for long though. You snap awake with a strangled scream, gasping, hissing, chest heaving as you push yourself back against the bed, trying to escape the claws of the nightmare. It plays again and again, on a loop, behind your eyes, every nerve in your body thrumming with terror.

Your cat eyes, hazy and wide, finally make out the dark room around you, and with growing despair, you realise that waking up doesn’t mean the nightmare has ended. It’s still here and you’re still trapped in it. And it’s far from over when heavy footsteps thud outside your door, and before you can steady your breath or calm down at least a little, the door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash.

There he stands, the wolf hybrid, silhouetted in the doorway. He’s angry, you can see it in the tense lines of his face, his nostrils flaring, his gaze sharp and glowing in the dark. His only clothing is a pair of pyjama trousers, his muscular chest and tattoos visible, but it’s his eyes that do the damage—they rake over the room, scouring it for threats, his nose twitching as if scenting for intruders. You shrink back further into the headboard, instinctively pulling the blanket up high over your nose, desperate to muffle the sound of your fearful, ragged breaths.

His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a dangerous glint there as he snaps, “What was it?”

Sheer terror grips you once more, your body trembling as he starts sniffing around again, yanking back the curtains, peering into the closet, searching for some phantom threat, missing that it’s him. His frustration grows as he finds nothing, and slowly, he turns his attention back to you, narrowing in with predatory instincts. “What scared you?” His voice is a fraction softer now, but it’s still laced with impatience.

You can’t answer. You’re frozen in place, breath quickening as he starts towards you, as panic flares hot in your chest. You try to scramble away, desperate to get further from him, but the blanket tangles around your foot, trapping you. There's nowhere to go. You whimper, barely a whisper, “Please… don’t hurt me.” A hiss of fear slips out, sharp but trembling, in a hopeless attempt to make him back away.

He catches your foot, but it’s not rough, it doesn’t hurt the slightest. His grip is almost gentle, and instead of dragging you down to the floor, he pulls you towards him with unsettling care, sitting down on the edge of the bed and drawing you onto his lap. Your body curls up instinctively, small and tight, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline, as if making yourself as small as possible might keep you safe. He strokes your hair, his hand smoothing down your back over and over. It’s supposed to be comforting, you think, but you’re still overwhelmed too much to calm down. You can feel his eyes sweeping the room, on guard, even as he murmurs low against your hair, his voice soft with an eerie tenderness. “You’re safe here, kitten. Shh, shh… don’t worry, I’m here.”

His words don’t bring you any comfort. How could they? He’s part of the reason you feel anything but safe. This isn’t home and you’re definitely not safe, and as he scoops you up and carries you into his bedroom, your mind refuses to quiet. The fear doesn’t ebb away; your trembling continues, the nightmare clawing at your consciousness, flaring your instincts without a break.

As he lays you down on his bed, the sheets are still warm from where he must have been sleeping moments ago. He lies silently behind you, his body radiating heat that seeps into your cold limbs, though it brings little relief. The penthouse is too cold, the air too biting for your kind to ever feel truly comfortable. Despite your resistance, silent tears slip down your cheeks and dampen the pillow beneath you. It’s strange, but somehow his alpha scent dulls some of the terror wracking your limbs, even if it does nothing for the ache in your chest.

“Why are you crying?” His deep voice cuts through the darkness, halting the sobs trapped in your throat.

You think for a moment, heart heavy with longing, and then, in a shaky voice, you try honesty, praying that it might stir some pity in him, some mercy that could set you free. “I… I want to go home.”

His reply is cruelly simple, “But you are home, kitten.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, just pure conviction in his own words.

You don’t have the strength nor courage to argue anyway. You just nod, letting the tears flow freely as they please. You wait until he’s fast asleep beside you, until his breathing turns deep and steady, but still, you don’t even close your eyes for the rest of the night. You’re wide awake, heart thrumming, still battling the nightmares that won’t leave you in peace.

Even when the first pale light of dawn filters through the curtains, you remain alert and awake. He leaves, pressing a kiss to your head while you feign sleep, your body stiff under his touch. Hours pass before another enters the room—a cat hybrid this time, with a tray of food and juice and a tentative smile.

“Hey there, may I come in?” he asks softly, his eyes kind, white ears perked as he stays by the door, careful not to startle you more than you already are. “I’ve brought you some food.”

You don’t reply, just lie still, biting back any noise that might betray how lost and utterly shattered you feel.

He takes your silence as an invitation of sorts and steps closer, placing the tray carefully on the bedside table. Then, slowly, gently, he shifts your blanket and sits near the edge of the bed, careful to still keep his distance. “I know you’re scared. I was too,” he says quietly, not looking at you, but at the floor instead. “But I promise, you’re safe now with Jungkook.”

Jungkook. That must be the wolf hybrid. You know it must be him—he’s the alpha, after all. His mark now burns on your skin, a reminder of who your body belongs to now. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, your wide, scared eyes fixed on the other hybrid, watching warily.

The cat hybrid sighs, breaking the silence again. “I know what it’s like,” he continues. “I was trafficked too. Jungkook found me just in time. I didn’t have anyone back then to tell me I was safe, but I’m here now, telling you—you don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one here wants to truly hurt you.”

His words twist something in you, a raw anger bubbling beneath the surface. You growl softly, involuntarily, a bitter sound that slips out without your consent. Safe? How could they call this safe? The one who ‘saved’ you had branded you without mercy like you were some possession and not a living being.

The cat hybrid only chuckles lightly at your reaction. “I know,” he responds, almost to himself, “he’s a bit… extra. But you’re different. He won’t hurt you again.”

After a moment of silence, he turns slightly, his soft eyes finding yours. “I’m Jimin, by the way. Would you like to tell me your name, or should we stick with kitten for now?”

There’s something in his gaze that reminds you of family, of something warm and familiar. Against your better judgement, you let your guard slip—just a little. You whisper your name, barely audible.

But he hears it. His expression softens as he takes your cold, stiff hand in his, drawing small circles on your skin, soothing. “Nice to meet you, ___,” he says with a gentle smile that creases his eyes into crescent moons. It’s a small thing, but enough to make your shoulders sag, just a fraction, and allow the tiniest hint of a tired smile to touch your lips.

01 • masterlist • 3

a/n 3: hope you enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for this fic 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife, @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @justjkkkkk, @staytinyville, @jaiuneamesolitaiire , @ericawantstoescape , @mjuser, @sp1derk0ok , @fluttershyvanilla, @lachimolalajeon , @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @llallaaa , @m00njinnie , @passionandsuga , @scuzmunkie , @lerasi , @11thenightwemet11 , @bts-ruu , @metalheadfangirl2001 , @unadulteratedwitcher ,

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pjmmania · 2 months ago

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TO BE A VIPER - PJM

Genre: Mafia AU

Pairing: JiminxReader

Warnings: Smut, physical violence, violence by firearms and other various weapons, gore, explicit language, death, pregnancy, miscarriage, certain misogynistic tones in some characters

—————

A kidnapping reunites you with your long lost best friend, Park Jimin, revealing that your world has been a lie all along. He’s no longer that sweet boy you knew. Something dark has taken root - and now it’s coming for you too.

—————

Chapter Index:

Prologue

Part I

Part II

Part III (coming soon)

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hollyhomburg · 9 hours ago

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Before I Leave you (Pt. 79)

(Sneak peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: It's Hoseok's turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won't let him have it easily.

Tags: Heat sex, knotting, group sex, Sub! m/c, Dom! Namjoon, Sub! Hobi, d/s, threesome, comparing knots, Cumplay, size kink, big dick Namjoon, womb fucking, belly bulge, slight inflation kink, breeding kink, clit torture if you squint, overstimulation, voyeurism, squirting, messiness kink, inspection kink, humiliation kink, implied cuckolding, very brief human furniture, implied puppy play, puppy space Hobi, collars, dominance displays, porn without plot,

W/c: 10.7k

A/n: ahhhhh here it is <3 the second part of last chapter that i split last minute <3 more filth but at least it's hobi filth <3 keep your eyes wide open on the ending! this one is a bit of a cliffhanger <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape. Meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters. It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-morning and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept at all. Namjoon's only human. Even the pack alpha can't last forever.

Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and Hoseok's lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes and looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha. Across the nest Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot. You whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little and dripping a pretty spiderweb like strand of cum down onto the nest.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick. Alarmed at the sound of your whine and the desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint- he's not a knothead. He's not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him- No.

Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye. Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear. It's worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing and pulsing dully. There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, that covers Namjoon’s cock. Milky at the tip and pink. your pussy lips are also red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. namjoon pries you open with two fingers, showing hoseok that you’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon lets you go and reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him with out a word. so deep down in alpha space that even his teasing goes quiet. He tests the give of the collar, pulling hoseok this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits behind you, almost between your legs.

Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. You mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. His words summoned at last. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. he doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his cock, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. where it's already half popped. Rubbing at the sensitive skin and slight bulge with talented fingers that have Hobi panting in seconds.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock. he has both of his pups, right where he wants them. He tugs at Hobi's cock once, twice.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Coming Saturday December 28th @ 5pm EST (time Zone Adjustments Below)

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wildestdreamsblog · 8 months ago

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Latibule Spinoff: Academy Days

Pairing: Mafia/Detective!Park Jimin x Detective!Reader

Summary: In which you thought you could finally shake off the clingy Park Jimin or in which he wasn't as harmless as you thought he was

Latibule universe Masterlist, Read more in: Kofi Exclusive

“What? That’s dangerous! Why are you placing her there?” he demanded an answer as soon as he heard the announcement that you were one of the few students that would join the elite training. His brows were furrowed as he glared at the instructor, uncaring of the looks he garnered from other students brought by his outburst and to your astonishment. And when the instructor explained how you were more than capable, he merely asked how he could get there.

He listened carefully to the qualifications he needed to obtain, and you shook your head as the instructor indulged him, all while thinking that he would not be able to follow you, finally. But to your amazement, Jimin didn't back down. He accepted the challenge with a resolve that bordered on stubbornness. “Does that mean that I only need to beat three people?”

The instructor blinked at his chosen words, “Uhm, sure?”

#mafia bts #bts fic #yandere bts #mafia park jimin #yandere park jimin #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 10 months ago

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Dark Moon | Chapter Two

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, mentions of prostitution, Jimin is really a bastard, harassments, threats with a gun, forced vaginal inspection, humiliation and teasing, light blood consumption, virgin girls are sold, forced separation

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! The second chapter of Dark Moon has arrived, thank you for all the compliments and support ❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

When Y/N regained consciousness she felt her head spin and something go up her stomach, she was nauseous as well as very cold, even her leg did not seem to be in optimal condition. A white light filtered past her eyelashes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut before groaning, trying, in vain, to move. She turned wearily on her side, realizing only then that she was lying on an icy floor. "The mare has awakened," said a voice with a deep cadence. The girl tried wearily to at least get on her knees, but failed to do so; her head was assailed by memories of a few hours ago, they were confused, but one thing she distinctly remembered. A face. A male face full of piercings, of cruel extraordinary beauty. "You better not move a step, you have a gun pointed at your head, baby doll," said another voice, higher and smoother. As her eyes adjusted to the light she focused on the gun in question, clutched in the gloved hand of the same man she remembered. His face was as beautiful as a god's, he had piercings on his lower lip, as well as on his eyebrow and all along the side line of his neck, stretching all the way under his leather coat. His dark hair, on the other hand, was combed so that his forehead was left uncovered, his amphibians also stood tall and menacing, just like the rest of him.

He held that gun with monstrous ease, his stoic expression telling her that he would not think twice about shooting her if he had to. She licked her lips, finding them dry and cracked, before she began to speak. "What do you want from me? I have nothing to interest you," she said in a scratchy voice, hugging her legs in a vain attempt to shield herself from his eyes. "You are quite wrong, dear," the other stepped forward, he was taller than the man with the piercings and his hair was silver, yet the hardness of his eyes was the same, "You have made a request and we are here to fulfill it." The young woman frowned, before the realization finally came. "Now you remember, right? You asked to work for us, in fact ... you both asked." The young woman widened her eyes and immediately remembered her younger sister, looked around in panic noticing the smaller body far away from her. She tried to get up to reach her, but the sound of a trigger froze her. "I told you not to take a step, I might blow your leg off, but that would not please my boss, so let's avoid giving each other trouble," huffed the dark-haired man, he was ruthless. She began to tremble, realizing the trouble she and her sister had gotten themselves into.

They had applied to work everywhere from small bars to supermarkets, not leaving out discos and more domestic jobs. But there was no work, or the pay was starvation. Finally she had made the leap, finding herself applying for jobs in a variety of red-light clubs, and before she could say or do anything, her sister had also followed suit, but she didn't think it would end like that for them. "We never received any recruitment letters or emails, so what are you talking about?" she hissed through clenched teeth. The taller one looked at her sideways, "The Dark Moon is not used to hiring the way you imagine, sweetheart...to fit into its standards you have to possess certain qualities and you two have all of them." If possible that answer left her even more confused, the dark-haired man with the piercings huffed, "Boobs and three holes to fill are not enough, once you enter the Dark Moon you never leave, those who "win" our attention do so because they live far away from their family and with a low lifestyle," he explained vulgarly, heedless of the increasingly evident pallor on the young woman's face. Everything was clear now, one of the brothels to which she had sent her application was much more than that, there was a highly illegal prostitution ring behind it, involving the total disappearance of girls from the rest of the world. The menacing appearance of the two men spoke volumes.

What had they gotten themselves into? "Wait a minute, ours was a request made without thinking" she tried to negotiate, but the grin on the pierced boy's face grew. Jimin was amused, did the poor deluded woman really believe that there was any way back? He shook his head, "Without thinking? You ran away from home because of an abusive family, dropping out of school and cleaning here and there to earn enough to afford a low Motel in the lowest neighborhood in town...it doesn't seem to me that you applied without thinking, in fact, it was desperation that convinced you and you even got bingo," he chuckled nastily. The girl cashed the blow, bending over herself; there was no remedy. She had been kidnapped and a madman was pointing a gun at her with impressive ease, the other man would probably hurt her sister if she decided to challenge them. She felt like crying, but she pushed back her tears; she would not let them see her whimpering like a child. After a few seconds a choked sigh was heard, Y/N opened her eyes again with fear. She turned toward her sister, who terrified looked at her with a lost and confused look. "What...? Y/N, what's going on?" she asked with some difficulty due to the drug used on her.

"Blair, stay there!" she exclaimed, but her sister tried to get up anyway, and the taller guy had to intervene, pushing the younger one against the concrete wall without any kindness, pulled the gun out of his jacket, and Y/N felt herself dying, yelled at him to leave her alone, pushing herself toward them, but a heavy kick to the leg stopped her actions. She groaned in pain, staring at the piercing guy's boot pressing right against her thigh, there where a purplish bruise had already taken shape from the violent sting. "Ha-ha! You're such a naughty little girl, you know? Lucky for you that wasn't a step, because otherwise I would have had to use this," he said in a childish tone, teasing her by moving the barrel of his gun left and right. Y/N swallowed hard, chewing between her teeth the pain she so badly wanted to vent, that boy was scary to her, there was a veil of madness behind his dark eyes. She did not want to find out how far she could push him, that madness. Namjoon, on the other hand, went no further with her sister, just put her back in her place. She resumed breathing as the man moved away from her, but a knock on the door made her stomach flip over. The two men exchanged a brief glance; it was Jimin who opened it without lowering his gun.

Y/N saw three other men enter the building, one of whom towered prominently over the others. He wore a gorgeous fur coat over his smoking, and his incredibly handsome face was obscured by an apathetic expression. The other two, on the other hand, were dressed quite similarly to those who had taken her hostage; they, too, were beautiful and surreally dangerous. "Are there only two of them?" the man in the fur coat asked, pointing at her and her sister. "They are the only ones who passed all the requirements, they are also quite pretty, Jin," shrugged the man the girl had labeled "The Tall One." The Jin in question squared them carefully, Y/N felt naked under his gaze and wished she could hug her sister to protect her from them, but she could not. She would be of no use to her dead. "What are their names?" "Byeon Y/N and Byeon Blair, they are sisters, they used this surname in the application, definitely not the right one...as you can see, they are not Korean." "Good job, Namjoon... As for their status?"

The girl didn't know how they could know all that, because it was true, they had changed their last name so that they didn't have to be related to their father and his family, but what made her cringe was the word "status," underlined in a strange way. The one she seemed to understand was called Namjoon remained silent a few seconds, then shook his head, "We haven't checked." "No problem, we'll do it now," he moved a finger toward the other two, "Taehyung, Hoseok," he said, but the pierced boy got in the way. "Leave this one to me," he said, intriguing Seokjin. "Why, Jimin? You usually avoid by saying it's too hard to handle them." Now she knew the name of that devil, but still not understanding what they intended to check, something told her she would not like to find out, she exchanged a glance with her sister. She saw her as frightened as she had ever been in her life, and it certainly should not have helped to see her, her older sister, in the same condition, so she tried to calm her expression, though with little result. "I have a score to settle with her," she said earnestly, it was then that Y/N remembered the kick thrown at the man's face in her fury to escape him, but she couldn't see any bruises so it must not have hurt him that much, right? The other nodded, "All right."

Next she saw the man named Hoseok heading toward her sister, who pushed herself against the wall trying to escape, but she was surrounded by men with guns and could do nothing. Y/N sprinted toward her, but Jimin was quick to grab her by the collar of her shirt. "Be still and quiet, behave yourself and it will only last a few seconds." But she did not understand, what would last only a few seconds? She blanched at the younger one's shocked screams, turned quickly toward her, and what she saw left her bewildered. The red-haired man, Hoseok, was holding Blair's body crushed to the ground while he did something with his hand under the fabric of her shorts, the insight made her shudder and she threw herself at her once more, heedless of Jimin's firm grip, who gritted his teeth at such stupidity. "What the fuck are you doing to her, you bastard! Let her go immediately, before I kill you!" she snarled bright-eyed, aware that as her sister kicked trying to get the man off her, she could only watch with no chance to react. A laugh behind her back made her skin crawl. "He's doing just that to her," she heard him say, before she was pinned to the wall hard, missing her breath for a few moments, time for Jimin to imprison her wrists in one of his hands, reaching with the other to the fabric of her underpants, which he went over, ending right under her panties.

In horror the girl felt the fingers still wrapped in the leather glove tracing her folds and without any care penetrating her tight slit, she cried out in pain and shock, the fingers went all the way, finding nothing to stop them, but Jimin wanted to provoke her a little. "You're so dry that if I continued you would bleed, wouldn't you? Like a virgin, too bad you're not," he whispered in her ear. The young woman, red with shame, overcame her shock and tried to kick him in the groin where an obvious bulge was taking shape, but Jimin ducked in time, stared at her with icy eyes before stepping firmly out of her intimacy, causing her another painful twinge. He let her fall back to the ground observing his fingers, only a few drops glistened on their surface, nothing striking. "She's tight as hell, but she's not a virgin," he communicated to the others in an impassive voice. Hoseok turned away from the youngest, who cowered in shock. "With this one I stopped pretty much right away, she's a virgin," he showed everyone a few drops of blood present on his fingers before licking them.

No one commented on that gesture, as if it was normal for them, Y/N just felt like throwing up, she clenched her legs trying to calm the burning that the bastard had intentionally caused her, god... if they were on equal terms she would have destroyed him. Seokjin nodded, "We'll make a lot of money with that one, I already have an interested customer." Y/N widened her eyes, rising up sharply. "At least let my sister go! She is young and unfit for such a life!" she exclaimed, staring into the eyes of what appeared to be the boss. Taehyung laughed, "Then why did she apply for such a job? Besides, what would she be different from you, is she a princess or something? Come on, we are fair and consistent people we, it wouldn't be fair to you," he teased her, ignoring Blair's sobs, still hunched over herself because of the pain she was feeling. Hoseok did not seem to have gone easy on her, as he had said. "Miss Byeon, the Dark Moon is a place that lives in anonymity, our clients are important people who want to spend moments of pleasure in complete relaxation, I can't afford outside witnesses other than my men, that's exactly why we only pick up girls like you," he began to explain calmly, "Beautiful, but desperate, I offer them protection and comfort, as long as they abide by my rules." Simply put, 'You know too much, and since you've been brought in, you will do as I say'.

Y/N felt lost, there was no turning back, she would be a whore without freedom until the end of her days, and her sister would follow her freewheeling. At that point, with another needle stuck in her flesh, tears flowed copiously without her being able to do anything to stop them.

Y/N regained consciousness in what was no longer a dingy warehouse, but lying on a soft bed with silk and velvet blankets. Smelling of essential oils and wearing a satin blouse, she widened her eyes, turning around. Next to her a girl was arranging some things in the sliding door closet. She was not paying attention to her. "I-where am I?" she asked in a low voice, the girl blocked her actions, then turned to her, glowering at her. "You should know, shouldn't you? You asked to work here yourself," she arrowed, Y/N looked at her shocked. Why had the woman answered her in that rude way? "I don't think I did anything to you to deserve such an attitude," she said in fact, the other rolled her eyes. "You newcomers are all like that, all naive holier-than-thou. You're at the Dark Moon, girl! Place of pleasure and sin, where you will open your legs without a single complaint and I recommend it for your own good," she blurted out, made to leave without adding more, but Y/N stopped her. "My sister! Have you seen my sister?" she ignored the scurvy attitude of that girl as beautiful as she was rude to ask about the younger one, the other looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, yes...when you arrived they just asked me to get you ready for the room, but I heard about the other one.... She was a virgin, virgins are always sold and never stay at the Dark Moon.... so it was your sister, huh? I'm sorry," she sneered, before leaving the room. The world came crashing down on her, her sister was not there with her, she had been sold without ifs and buts, they had not even given her a chance to see her one last time. She clutched her chest, trapped in a painful grip, and let herself fall on the bed without energy, she merely sobbed for what seemed like hours. She had definitely lost her entire family and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change that. She was gone, Blair was no longer with her, and she would spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for any man with a sizeable bank account. With tears still clinging between her eyelashes she saw the door open once more, revealing the slender figure of another girl, wrapped in a pattern similar to her blouse, but much darker. "Hey. You're the newcomer, aren't you? Nice to meet you, my name is Hanon," she said jovially, waving her hand, Y/N remained impassive, too exhausted and bitter to be in the same mood as her.

"Y/N..." she mumbled back, shutting herself up. The woman was not impressed by that closed attitude; on the contrary, she found herself smiling more. That girl reminded her of herself at first. Almost no one wanted to end up trapped at the Dark Moon, but getting used to it wasn't so bad. They had food and beautiful clothes, as well as a roof over their heads. "Well, hello Y/N! Welcome to the Dark Moon, I was asked to show you around a bit," Hanon said cheerfully, Y/N instantly glowered at her. She didn't want to take the prostitute prison tour, she wanted to go back to the horrid old Motel with her sister, better poor than divided and slutty. "I don't care for that, thank you," she replied through gritted teeth. If possible Hanon's smile grew bigger, a strange light shone in her eyes. "Oh, believe me ... it's in your best interests to listen to me, Seokjin here is the boss and his word is law, if you don't do as he says you'll end up bathing in the icy waters of the Han River, with no chance of rising" from the satisfied voice Y/N guessed that it had already happened and that Hanon was probably someone quite important among the girls, he believed she had power over all of them, that's why she smiled like that. Without uttering another word, Y/N got out of bed, found some bedroom shoes placed neatly on the polished wooden floor, and putting them on followed the other woman.

Hanon showed her several rooms, numbered and with a key inside each shiny, well-oiled lock; almost all the rooms were the same, except for a few cases of far more luxurious suites suitable for clients quite important to the boss of the "shack." Hanon explained to her that the one where she was a few moments earlier was her personal room, no one had the right to enter there, and that every client had one of those other rooms rented for a set amount of time that varied from the fee paid for each type of service requested. Y/N felt disgust and nausea with each piece of information she learned, the customer paid and they automatically had to obey him. Hanon finally showed her their relaxation room; it was a large greenhouse where one could play freely and grow flowers and plants of all kinds. That was perhaps the only area Y/N would appreciate, she told herself. "From this corridor instead you get to the kitchens and the dining room, instead to ask for any kind of information you can ask me, if I will not be available go ahead to Namjoon's office, I will show you where it is" at that name the young woman felt sick. She remembered the silver-haired man, she had no idea he personally worked at the Dark Moon. "Namjoon?" she swallowed, Hanon stared at her for a moment confused by her sudden pallor, then understood. "So this time it was his turn, I guess it went well for you then, he is very kind to girls and-"

"Namjoon kidnapped my sister," she said harshly, "He was not kind to do such a thing, much less his friend with piercings all over his face, who was simply an animal with me," she growled. Hanon winced, he could tell she was talking about Jimin from the description-he was the only one of the men in Seokjin who had piercings all over his face, not to mention his neck. Those seven were divided into distinct and separate personalities, and Hanon knew for sure that the worst were Jimin and Hoseok themselves. "All right, for any doubts ask me, then," then she remembered something important, "Oh, I almost forgot the most essential thing! In case you need help during a session with your client, on the bedside table next to the bed there is a white phone, it has a unique number and communicates with the bodyguards, if you will be in trouble don't hesitate for a moment to call" she explained seriously. A shiver ran down the young woman's spine, she had not yet thought of such a possibility, she believed that with clients of a certain caliber something dangerous could not happen, evidently she was mistaken. When she was escorted back to her room, Y/N stopped Hanon. "Um... Hanon?" "Yes?"

"Before you came, there was a girl in the room with me, she was very rude and I would like to know why, I'm new and didn't give any trouble...I wish I could at least live peacefully here, though I doubt it." Hanon weighed the words well, but decided to be honest. "I told you we have personal rooms, but not as much as they are..." Y/N widened her eyes, "Your room belonged to Ester, the girl you met." "What... Why did you give me her room?" she asked wordlessly, Hanon shrugged her shoulders. "Well, only five other girls have the room like yours, these girls are selected by Seokjin's most trusted men because they are their favorites, and you are now one of them, indeed, of us." If possible, Y/N found herself more confused than before-what was Hanon getting at? The latter sighed, "Ester was Jimin's favorite, but I don't know how...now you're the one who will share a bed with him if he decides to stay here from time to time, when he arrived he didn't think twice about sending her away to give way to you, I think you intrigued him and quite a bit too." Y/N found herself staggering back, everything simply had to be an absurd and horrible joke, should she have shared a bed with such a beast? The disgust did not leave her for a moment longer.

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bangtangalicious · 1 year ago

Text

nexus (m) part 4

pairing: ot7 x f-reader | smut: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest

summary: the murder of your best friend prompts you to team up with a vengeful detective to navigate a web of lies, betrayals and love. trust no one. people are never who they seem, and the most horrid one of all might just be the one you love most

characters: detective!jungkook, ex/bartender!yoongi, bestfriend!seokjin, ceo!namjoon, fiancee!taehyung, model!hoseok, therapist!jimin

genre: 18+ smut slow burn angst romance thriller mystery eventual yandere casino!au organizedcrime/mafia!au arrangedmarriage!au revenge!au

wordcount: 8.8k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes, proceed with caution. public sex, dirty dancing hehe, breast play, degradation kink, some hand stuff, fingering, dubious consent, somnophilia, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, obsessive, possessive, manipulative behavior & themes, allusions to gambling addiction, implied stalking behavior, mentions of psychiatric facilities, implied sexual trauma, depiction of unethical therapy, physical violence (jk beats jimin up woo), slight slut shaming, gaslighting, alcohol use, partying, themes of social class resentment, but! also! love confessions! kissing! and! reunions! but lots of angst

taglist: @raynom @gimmythatjib00ty @yoshiure @greezenini @victoryscreech61 @tbzhubrecs @namjooningelsewhere @sugarcoffeemochi @jiminie-08 @jinssexytoe @kooookie @only4sana @pinkcherrybombs @taeslarityy @natalie-rdr @mageprincess7 @hopeonysus @bibbykins @sameifnn @shadowmoon21 @juliemae80-blog @gaeguuliii @dvalitaes @satorinnie @fournia @kassandravictoria @jazmine2904 @marslena @iloverubberduckiez-blog @manchuria @btseverafter7 @jamlessstars @doublebunnykoo @you-are-my-wind @toughbook @mini-euphoria-deactivated202302 @lvrseok @n4mina @imjinvolved @rp171198 @codeinebelle @itsallabouthedetails @btseverafter7 @just-me-and-myselfs @blonde-bummer @hcneybees @babycoffeefire @totallynoanalien @seokjinkismet @itslanaanditssad @rhyperia @sporadicfuryface @azazel-nyx @hani-neko-nee-chan (rest of tags on reblog)

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“Taehyung” The name left your lips in a shudder. Shut eyes quivering, entrapping you in your nightmare.

Miles away, Taehyung stared out the window. The rolling hills hinting at a familiarity. His head ached, he felt nauseous as the vibrations of Jungkook’s car hit his core. He didn’t want to see you—not that anyone would understand. He remembered you vividly—remembered his own infatuation with you. You were a shining idol in his eyes. Someone who he looked at in awe, like he did his eldest brother.

Years locked away can change one’s perception.

Years left alone can brew resentment.

You never came for him. He was certain you didn’t even try.

A grin tugged at his lips.

The name uttered from your lips had Jimin’s eyes shooting open. Woken up from a dream—the dream where you and him were forever, and he wasn’t pretending. A world where you loved him—Park Jimin.

Your body lay curled into itself. He couldn’t help but touch you—fingers drawn to the curve of your back. Trailing down softly. You were a troubled sleeper. He could see it in the way you flinched at his actions.

Pulling you into his warmth, he kissed the nape of your neck with a loving tenderness, ghosting up to your ear where he whispered your name sweetly.

Your name. The first words Seokjin ever said to him. He was the most complex patient he’d ever faced. One that brought meaning to his monotonous existence.

Jimin had been bored. Bored with his brilliant mind that allowed him to become a young doctor. Bored with his high profile patients who were all simply rotten with their first-world problems. He was losing his mind. Day in and day out—stuck within the four walls of his office. One brat in, another out.

Kim Seokjin was a special case. He had asked him simply—what’s on your mind?

You. You were on Jin’s mind.

It was tough to say if you had a leash on him, or he you. As Jin would ramble on about how he couldn’t rationalize his feelings for you, Jimin would bite back his smile, scribbling the word obsessed onto his notebook.

The irony.

It started as curiosity. Jimin had a reputation for being successful with all his patients, but it often required a hands on approach. In the corner of the casino, Jimin would observe you like an animal in the wild—you in your element. Throwing yourself at Jin’s elitist friends, while swindling them out of millions.

He watched you. Learned you. Studied you until he swore he could write a thesis.

And here you were.

Engaged. To be married. To be one.

Sighing deeply, he let his hand trail between your legs. Fingers prodding at your folds, smiling lazily at the way you’d twitch and shudder. Simply unphased. Deep in your sleep.

He let your wetness coat the sensitive pads of his fingers. Nose pressed against your neck, he inhaled, reveling in your scent as his fingers pushed in and out of your cunt.

The intrusion into your tight walls was slick. Yet you accepted him so well he simply had to add another. He still couldn’t believe he got to have you—got to cum inside you. Something he knew for a fact Jin never had the pleasure of doing.

Jin was an enigma and you were his doll. His plaything where he could easily manipulate your surroundings and puppet you without you realizing it. A fascinating man. Attached to you like a baby to a binkie. As if knowing you since birth gave him some right over your life.

Jin had cameras set up in your house, which he revealed in a delusional confession about how he was upset his younger brother had taken your virginity. Of course, Jimin already knew this. He hacked into them to watch you as well.

Jimin chuckled to himself. You were so naïve. Clueless. Didn’t know how badly you needed Jimin to save you. Jin was far more dangerous than Jimin could ever be.

Jimin was simply there to fill the hole in your heart. Ease the tension between your legs where he let his flushed tip prod. Cock heated with need, heavy with desire. He cursed, sliding his shaft through your folds slowly. Your body responding through subtle twitches. Cunt seeping at his touch.

His cock sunk inside you with ease, feeling you clench down violently at the intrusion. Your body shifting, coming alive, regaining consciousness, because here he was to save you from yourself. You knew not what forces bound you. Kept you from freedom. Jimin was here now. He would take care of everything, lest you worry your pretty little head.

He’d keep you safe. Away from the Kim brothers, away from the judgements of society. He would purify you. Wash out your sins with his cum, fuck you until you only knew pleasure in his name.

“Taehyung” Your lips parted, forehead furrowing as you realized your reality. He shushed you—you wouldn’t want to make him angry with that name, would you? Maybe one day he would tell you to call him Jimin. Under the guise of roleplay, or perhaps, if you had no escape.

“Good morning, princess” He could feel you shudder. He was so deep in your trenches you couldn’t move. Couldn’t run from him—his hands slipping over your breasts. Pinching at your nipples. He cooed at the warmth spreading to your cheeks. The way your eyes fluttered, euphoric in feeling. Wedging himself even further inside of you with a sharp thrust.

You yelped, a soft, gorgeous sound which he elicited with every move. Tight, rough—as he hooked your leg over his arm. The other wrapping generously around your neck. Your back arched against him, his teeth shadowing over your ear. Splashing into your waters, he rammed into you like a fever. Balls slapping against your ass, smacks echoing through the serene room. Tangled with the early morning sunrise.

He could easily lose himself in your sensation. How Jin time and time again passed up the chance, he knew not. The man had self-restraint, if nothing else. Your pussy squeezed the life out of him, making him want to give you everything he had and more. For what purpose was anything else? This is all he ever wanted—all he ever needed. Fucking into you just like this. He’d make you fall so in love you’d never want to leave. Exist pliant with his cock stuffing you as he pleased. His own princess. His virtue and his demise.

“Taehyung” Your voice muffled by lack of air. His hand so tight around your throat, constricting more when you uttered that damned name. “C-can’t breathe” You slapped his hand, as though signaling him to release you. Jimin chuckled, as if you had any say in this.

You were a puppet even before he came into your life. A puppet before he knew of your existence. Why should you ever be anything else? You didn’t know any better. Nevertheless he let you breathe, let you gasp for air because he wanted you to remember that he allowed it. He listened and he cared. Shoving you onto your stomach, he battered himself back onto you, ass cushioning his pistoning hips. You were a means to his end. He wanted to die buried inside you like this, so close to his edge his vision was red hot. The unsatisfying and addictive heat sprawling over his bare chest.

Teeth digging into his own lip, the best and worst sensation combined. He didn’t want the pleasure to stop, the tight, unwavering grip of your cunt as his cock hit you straight in your core. Over and over again, fusing your bodies together. Holding down your shoulders, keeping you in place as he pounded into you with fury.

He swore he’d never been so high in his life—no ecstasy could quite compare. The bed creaking underneath. The only sounds of your bodies clashing, your lips gasping and him—groaning deep as his cock twitched inside you. Swelling before everything snapped at once. Dozed over, cum spilling hot inside of you. He collapsed onto your back, spent for all his worth. Keeping himself nested in you even while he kissed your cheeks.

You slipped away from him, limp cock falling out as you reached for a robe. He admired the brief glimpse of his cum, sticky between your thighs.

“You awoke a beast in me” Jimin chuckled shyly, resuming his act as the whipped Kim Taehyung. “Couldn’t even help myself”

Jungkook gripped the wheel of his car with a ferocity that had his knuckles turning white. The tension in the car thick. In the rearview mirror he could see him. Kim Taehyung. The root cause of all the shit he’d ever faced. The rat that sold out his father and got him killed.

He could never forget. Never forget the eyes that watched in horror as his father was shot by an animal. Jungkook so badly wanted to blame him. To let out his anger and get his revenge on this bastard—but he couldn’t.

For your sake.

You were the centerpiece now. Caught in a web of whose design—Jungkook was still trying to figure out. Internally he battled his opportunity to avenge his father, with his duty to you as a Detective. You fucking little brat who he loathed and yet had an inexiplicable desire to shield you from all harm.

His foot lowered on the gas. Who knows what you were doing with this Park Jimin creep. Miles whizzed past as he sped up. What if you were hurt—what if he—

The Kim mansion was in sight. Jungkook parked the car, turning to face Taehyung with skepticism in his eyes. The boy had barely uttered a word in the car.

“Jimin could be armed and dangerous” Jungkook swallowed thickly, “I’ll go in first just to make sure, and I will bring Y/n to you. You guys wait here”

Taehyung looked down at his hands. He was playing with something in his palms. Finally looking up, Jungkook was taken aback.

The look in his eyes was dark. Almost terrifying.

He said nothing. After getting an uncertain nod from Yoongi, Jungkook stepped out. Making his way to the side entrance, hand glazed over the gun sheathed by his side. With a light nudge, the door opened—he stepped inside, muddy shoes staining the crystal clean marbled floor.

Silently, he slipped through the halls of the maze-like home. He could hear something—following the echoes into the kitchen. You were there. Alone. Bent over the sink while the microwave hummed behind you.

You were choking out. Gagging as if you would throw up. Only a flimsy silk robe holding you together.

Jungkook’s gut twisted.

You didn’t.

He couldn’t afford to scare you in the state you were in. If you screamed, Jimin would know he was here. Quietly, he treaded towards you, nearing until he was close enough to lick the sweat beading on the hollow of your neck.

In a swift movement, his fingers covered your mouth. You jumped in shock, eyes wide. “It’s me” Jungkook assured you as you writhed in his hold. He repeated himself until it sunk in, whispering “It’s just me. Don’t scream”

Backing away from him, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered angrily.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the cleavage of your robe, splitting open more than you likely meant it to. The round edges of your breast vulnerable to his sight. Flustered, you tightened it around your body, ignoring the dark flash in his eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes still steady on your chest before snapping back to reality. He looked at you, serious, “Are you alright?” He glanced towards the sink which was empty. “Sick?”

You shrugged, brushing off his concern. “Why the fuck are you here, Jungkook?”

“Did you fuck him?” You made a face. Sighing, Jungkook explained. “He’s not Kim Taehyung. He’s an imposter”

“Oh I know”

Jungkook’s lips pursed. “You know?”

Chuckling lightly, your head turned as the microwave began to beep. Grabbing what seemed to be a muffin, you casually took a bite. Jungkook squinted as your teeth sunk into the pastry, crumbs dotting the edge of your lips.

“Sure. Taehyung had a mole, it wasn’t there. This guy has the tattoo—Taehyung wasn’t there when they got it. And he won’t answer any questions about where he’s been.” You spoke while chewing, “You know but the way I knew for sure was when he began fucking me while I was asleep”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed.

“What?” He searched your eyes. Is that why you were—he looked again towards the sink.

“Yeah” Your voice was curt. He seriously questioned if you were hurting more than you let on “Maybe you and I should try it sometime. Kinda hot”

Jungkook huffed, “That’s not—”

“What?” You grinned at him, batting your eyelashes. Moving in closer as your finger hooked into the collar of his shirt, tugging playfully “You don’t wanna? Me lying all helpless while you ram your big fucking cock in,”

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice raised sternly as he pushed your hand away.

“That’s what all you guys want anyway, to bend me over like a little brainless cocksleeve” You tossed the half of your muffin into the trash with a tantrum-like attitude.

“Tell me where he is” Jungkook heard you, took note of the subtle bitterness in your tone and to talk to you about it later, but focused on the task at hand. “He might be Jin’s killer”

You nodded, gulping down your bite. “He’s upstairs, follow me”

You led Jungkook through the halls, up the grand winding staircase of the foyer. A large, glimmering chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. So much excess wherever Jungkook looked.

This was normal for you—this was your status quo. Your silk robes and ignorance. You slept with a man who could have killed your best friend—knowingly. Jungkook tried his hardest yet he swore he couldn’t understand a thing about you.

And he’d never care to admit just how much of his headspace you consumed.

If Jimin had hurt you.

If he had taken advantage of you in someway.

Jungkook’s fists tightened.

Opening the double doors to what he could only assume to be your bedroom, Jimin sat on the bed, waiting expectantly.

“Park Jimin, you’re under arrest under suspicion for the murder of Kim Seokjin” Jungkook slid past you quickly before Jimin could try to escape. He didn’t move, allowing Jungkook to handcuff him without resistance. He simply stared at you, amusement in his eyes.

“Murder?” Jimin tilted his head, grinning “I didn’t murder him baby”

“Why would I believe a fucking word you say?” You spat at him. Jungkook watched as your eyes flashed with rage. “You lied to me. You pretended to be my Taehyung”

“You’re gonna regret this” His smile didn’t waver. “You’re gonna wish you played along like the good little doll you are. What, you think this is good for you? Oh baby, you just wait. Put me behind bars and you see what hell is going to come knocking at your door. Who’s going to look out for you hm? This fucker?” He nodded in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook ignored him, calling on his radio for backup. Pulling Jimin to stand, he dragged him out the door. Jimin dug his heels in, slowing him down.

He laughed, a dark sinister cackle. “I’m the only one who cares about you Y/n. You think Jeon Jungkook is going to help you—please,” Jungkook shot him a glare, “You don’t know what I know”

“That’s enough” Jungkook roughly pushed him forward. Suddenly he heard something shatter.

You had thrown a vase in Jimin’s direction.

“You crazy prick” Your teeth were gritting. As though this were your last straw, letting down the series of dominos do drive you over the edge. “I’m not a doll—I don’t need anyone, least of all a fucking psycho like you!”

“You love it baby” Jimin taunted, “You think Jin is any better? He allowed it, princess. This was all his doing. I was perfectly content watching the footage he’d send me of the cameras he set up in your room—”

You lunged towards him, but Jungkook stepped in your path. Hands gripping your waist, holding you back. Touch gentle, but firm.

“Y/n” Jungkook whispered, “Easy”

“Let me fucking at him. I’ll show him”

“I know” Jungkook stood, pushing back as you tried to resist him, “Let me take him in okay. He’s gonna get what he deserves. Go grab something to wear” Jungkook urged, “Meet me downstairs, yeah?”

You frowned slightly, before ultimately agreeing. Jungkook exhaled, turning back to a thoroughly entertained Jimin. He swung a punch straight into his gut, causing Jimin to buckle over. Immediately then grabbing his neck, choking him as he lifted him onto his toes.

“That’s for Y/n” Jungkook hissed, “Psycho” Jimin squirmed in his hold, but Jungkook simply tightened his fingers. Jimin’s smile grew.

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same, Detective. Like father like son”

Jungkook tossed him across the room. Crashing into the wall, Jimin let out a pained grunt. The officers had arrived. He left Jimin on the floor, knowing he’d have nowhere to run.

Downstairs you waited, a baggy shirt and sweats which likely belonged to one of the brothers. Jungkook was reminded suddenly of who was waiting in his car. Police officers rushed passed him, grabbing Jimin and escorting him out. Jungkook took you and followed, watching as they drove off with him, twisted smile steady throughout it all.

“You good?” Jungkook asked again, voice barely above a whisper. His fingers brushing against your palm as if to nudge you. The sirens screamed loud in the distance. From the corner of his eye, he could see you take a deep breath.

He hated that he noticed. The way you fought to stay afloat through it all. He much preferred his own cowardly ignorance, where you were not someone he’d destroy in his quest, but rather righteous, deserving collateral.

Reality kicked in. Taehyung was waiting to see you in the car. He wondered if maybe throwing that on you now in the state you were would be unwise.

Maybe he just didn’t want you to meet Taehyung. He wanted to talk to you. Ask about what you said before, make sure you were really alright.

Unfortunately for him, the choice was robbed.

“Namjoon?”

The look in your eyes made Namjoon’s heart crumble. You looked so hurt. So betrayed.

Namjoon looked between you at the man by your side—vaguely familiar. He glanced as his badge to see Detective Jeon roughly inscribed.

“Bold of you to show up here” The detective muttered; arms crossed over his chest.

“Hobi said you called so I came”

It was a poor excuse. Just like when his mother died, again he had ignored your needs. Disappearing wordlessly, abandoning you when you needed him most. Left you to face your grief, the pain from Jin’s death which was no doubt hitting you the hardest of all.

How could he ever explain himself? Justify himself or earn back your trust? He was never blind to your affection, but simply possessed by a battle more prominent at the time. A battle with his brother which in hindsight felt pointless. The demands of the company consumed his every waking moment.

You said nothing. Simply stared at him in shock. He longed to reach out, to hold you, and offer a shoulder to lean on. Doubt held him back.

“Are you okay? The cops outside told me what happened. About the imposter.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know, I hadn’t seen him since—”

“You killed Jin”

Your voice boomed. Echoed through the grand walls of the foyer. Seething with anger, your jaw clenched. Tears brimming at the edges of your red eyes.

The words stung. Stung because he couldn’t say you were wrong. Because you could be saying fact—and Namjoon didn’t know if he killed his brother or not.

“Y/n please”

He didn’t want to lie to you—perhaps it wasn’t lying until the trust was discovered.

“You killed him and I loved him”

Perhaps those words stung even more.

Namjoon reached for your hands. “I need you to know that I never wanted you to marry Taehyung. I never wanted to force you to do anything. You deserve to live your own life”

He fell to his knees, keeping your palms in his. Not knowing how else to beg for your forgiveness.

“I got so drunk the night he was killed. The night before your engagement because—fuck Y/n, I didn’t want to do this to you. I didn’t know how bad things were, I was so blind—I wish I could go back. Fight for you”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill him Namjoon”

Namjoon swallowed tickly, diverting his eyes.

“Tell me the fucking truth”

He kissed your hand softly. He didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already had. But perhaps it was that mentality alone that was his biggest betrayal. His family’s biggest betrayal to you—lying. Lying under the guise of your protection when all it did was dig you a deeper grave.

“I-I don’t know” He confessed, giving in. This was how it had to be. This was the only way he could even hope to repair his relationship with you. Glancing briefly at the detective, he continued “Maybe”

He stood up, “Can we go somewhere quiet and talk, please?”

“Actually um—” Jungkook interrupted, only for Namjoon to shoot him a glare.

“Don’t you have a fucking criminal to interrogate? We’re obviously pressing charges. Go to your job—I don’t pay so much fucking tax so you can harass me and my—”

He bit his tongue.

“Fine” You broke the pause. “Let’s go talk.” Turning to the detective, you gave him a reassuring nod.

“Well can you please come to the station after?”

“She’ll come when she’s ready” Namjoon snapped. The detective rolled his eyes.

Namjoon took your hand in his again, leading you upstairs. Into your room. Noticing the messy sheets. The remnants of your clothes thrown around the room. His jaw hardened.

“You slept with him” Namjoon rationalized. “The imposter”

“Yeah, and?” Huffing, you leaned against the window. “I already feel shitty enough about it so don’t you run your mouth at me”

“No I—” He moved closer to you, searching your face. Your eyes mixed with vulnerability and resilience. You were tough, he knew that. He saw that so clearly even through the years he dismissed you. “Come here”

He pulled you into his chest, hand cradling the back of your head. He hugged you—he couldn’t remember the last time he had. Probably over a decade ago. He didn’t deserve to hold you, he knew it deep down. But whatever little he could offer you now, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

“I’m so sorry” He mumbled into the top of your head. “I won’t abandon you again, I promise”

He could feel your shoulders relax, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“This is your fault” You sobbed, “Everything is your fault Joonie”

“I know” He kissed your forehead, gazing into your teary eyes. His palm cupping your face, thumb wiping away your tears. His heart twisting in his chest.

Seconds passed so incredibly slow, yet too fast for him to think.

“I love you” His eyes widened as the words left his mouth. You blinked at him in confusion.

“W-what?”

“I know you hate me, and you have every right to. But I—I love you Y/n. I always have. Jin looming over my shoulder all my life just made me not realize it”

“Are you fucking kidding me Joonie? I always wanted you” You stared at him in disbelief. “You—you used me. I still have trouble opening my heart to anyone because of what you did to me—and now you’re saying you love me??”

“I know. Okay. I know what I did and I regret it every single day. I just hated Jin so much. More than I loved you, and now that Jin’s gone I can finally let myself feel it”

“You’re the fucking reason that I was engaged to Taehyung! I had a choice—I chose you”

Namjoon blinked. “Huh?”

“Yeah and you asked me if I loved Jin and I said I didn’t, so you told your mother to set me up with Taehyung”

“That’s not what happened”

“The fuck you mean it’s not what happened Joon? I clearly remember—”

“Y/n” Namjoon held your shoulders tightly, “I didn’t even know they asked you. Jin just told me one day. I swear”

You receded in silence.

“I’m pretty sure Jin was the one who decided too. Did you know, mom never left the company for him? He tricked me. Made me promise to see your engagement through and give him Nexus shares in exchange for the casinos”

You gulped, quiet for a moment to process before speaking: “He was also apparently seeing someone. A serious relationship”

“Yeah” Namjoon gulped. He had a pretty decent idea who it was, but didn’t want to tell you anything he didn’t know for sure. He’d put you through enough today. “I heard”

You gulped. Staring into his eyes. Until your eyes dropped to his lips. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat. Rhythm rushing the blood in his veins.

“Namjoon—” You looked away, but Namjoon held your chin steady with his finger. Tilting your face up to his.

“I love you” He repeated. “I’m here now, nothing will happen to you. No one can hurt you anymore. Not even him”

He leaned in just a tad. Pausing to ensure you wanted this. He wouldn’t push you. Wouldn’t manipulate you ever again.

“Don’t”

A man’s voice came from the door.

“Please—don’t”

Jungkook rushed back to the car. Taehyung and Yoongi were clearly in the middle of some sort of intense discussion.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked, looking around. He squinted at Namjoon’s car. “Wait—is that—”

“Yeah” Jungkook exhaled, turning on the engine, “Namjoon is back” He looked to Taehyung, “You can go in if you want, but we already arrested Jimin”

Taehyung remained still. Silent. Only the sound of his shaky breath until finally his eyes rose to meet Jungkook’s.

“Yeah” Jungkook glanced at Yoongi who shrugged. “I’ll go in”

“Do you want me to come with you Taehyung?” Yoongi reached out to him. Taehyung shook his head.

“Thanks Yoongi hyung. I should be fine. They’re family”

“Tell Y/n to call me when she can okay” Yoongi called out as Taehyung exited the car. Jungkook peered at him, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Alas he had more pressing issues at the moment. He rushed back to the station.

Jimin was locked in a cell when he arrived. Grinning wide. Infuriating Jungkook.

“You father would be so disappointed in you, interfering with the fall of the Kim’s” Jimin taunted from behind bars.

“You don’t know my father” He hissed under his breath.

“I was Kim Seokjin’s therapist—I know quite a bit about your father” Jimin walked up to the bars, pressing his face in between them. “And that he deserved to die”

“Enough” Jungkook snapped, his voice dropping low. “I have a few questions, and then I’m leaving you here to rot, got it?”

Jimin clicked his tongue in amusement. “Go ahead then. Ask me what you really want to know” He grinned wide, “Like how tight Y/n’s little cunt was”

Jungkook’s fist slammed against the pole. “Haven’t I beat you enough for today? Or are you a freak who likes it?”

“You like it too I bet. Beating people. Your dad sure did”

“Say one more thing about my dad” Jungkook hissed. Jimin pursed his lips in amusement.

“Am I in here because of impersonation? Because I didn’t commit any fraud, technically. Lying isn’t a crime”

“You’re a person of interest in the murder of Kim Seokjin”

Jimin giggled, “God, you’re all fucking idiots. I didn’t kill Seokjin. I was his doctor. And you can’t ask me about him because that information is protected by law”

“I can, since he’s fucking dead, and whatever he confessed in therapy might help us find out what happened”

“How long are you going to pretend, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asked, “How long are you going to act like this wasn’t all you?”

“Please—don’t”

Both you and Namjoon turned towards the voice. Namjoon’s lips parted in shock, while you stood—frozen in time.

Curly black hair. Eyes that glimmered so uniquely they made you want to stare at them for hours. Soft, thin lips. Pretty lashes. The resemblance was uncanny.

Pain seared through your chest.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon’s voice shattered your flashback. “Is that really you?”

He nodded, turning to his brother. Namjoon hesitated, before awkwardly opening his arms to embrace him. Taehyung melted into him—a boy reunited with his brother. It was a heartwarming sight.

“My god, Tae” Namjoon muttered, “Where the hell have you been?”

He turned back towards you. You were still too stunned to speak. His eyes scanned you up and down—in a way that made you feel like he could see through you. Straight to your bones.

“Hi” His eyes softened, but his face remained still. “Remember me?”

He must have spoken, but you couldn’t hear anything but your heart hammering in your ears. Panic flooding your veins. Your head feeling light—dizzy. Everything shifted, everything blurred.

"Are you scared of me, princess?"

There it was. The nickname. You stiffened as he leaned forward, fingers trailing up your jaw until he held your cheek in his palm. Held you gaze in his own, eyes drifting with mystery. His voice was so incredibly soft. Sweet even. Contrasting the ever so slightly amused glint in his eye.

You exhaled, heart throbbing through your ribs, almost to the point of suffocation.

"Hyung," Taehyung shifted to look at Namjoon who was watching the scene unfold intently, lips pursed in worry. Truth be told, he had been shocked at the intimate moment he almost walked in on. He never recalled Namjoon having any affection for you—or anyone for that matter. “Can we have a minute?”

"Yeah, of course. I’ll be in my room" Namjoon stood up slowly, looking to you for some sort of affirmation that it was okay to leave. You sent him a slight nod, to which his shoulders relaxed.

Ten years. Shocking nightmares every single night. Screaming to you, if maybe you might look back. If you might spare him a second glance and save him.

Taehyung was no idiot. He wasn’t oblivious to soft glances of attraction between you and Jin, speaking through nothing but the shy glimmer in your eyes.

Year after year passed, and he wondered if you’d care enough to find him. Wondered if you’d dare to question the actions of his brother—you didn’t.

And his resentment grew like a tumor in his soul.

You stood, a ghost from the past—a figment of this twisted reality. And Taehyung could finally drink you in. Your eyes were filled with a dead numbness. There used to be a light in there.

You were his princess. He was the first to say it, the first to think it, and as far as he was concerned the only one who truly had the right to call you it.

But where were you during his darkest days?

Your features softened, a mix of recognition and affection filling your gaze.

Taehyung didn’t know when he moved. Who moved first. The whole moment was a timeless blur. Wrapping his arms around you, the storm seemed to fade. All the years of separation melting away, resentment and distrust fading to dust, leaving only the warmth of your embrace.

He didn't want to hold you too tightly and yet, he couldn't bring himself to let go. Truth be told, Taehyung had never been more afraid in his entire life. Afraid of you. Afraid of his feelings for you.

Afraid of the ability you had to drive him completely and utterly insane.

“Are you real?” You looked into his eyes. “Fuck, Taehyung, I missed you so much”

Stepping away, he regarded you. Looking you up and down before his jaw hardened. The dark spells of his mind knocking on the forefront.

“You missed me?” He scoffed, tongue rolling in his cheek as he cocked his head. “You could have tried to find me, Y/n”

“Taehyung I—” His heart leapt when his name left your lips. “I don’t—I don’t even know why they sent you away”

“Did you try and find out?”

You gave him a guilty look. Reaching out for him but he flinched at your touch. “I thought about you all the time”

“Answer me” He snapped. You gulped.

“Well, Jin—”

“Don’t say his name to me” Taehyung hissed, “He did this to me, do you even know that Y/n?”

“I can’t” You shook your head rapidly, tears spilling from your eyes. Taehyung felt queasy at the sight, “I can’t deal with this. Why can’t you be happy to see me?”

“I spent ten years. Ten fucking years locked in psychiatric facilities, Y/n” He gripped your shoulders, “You were here, playing princess in my house—don’t tell me how I should fucking feel”

“I didn’t know” You pleaded, reaching for his face, “Taehyung I swear to you, I didn’t know”

“My mom is dead” He exhaled, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I didn’t even know about it—no one even fucking told me. And hyung too”

“Taehyung” You ran your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t help but croon into your touch. Muscles relaxing under the sweet sensation. “I’m so sorry”

He let his eyes flutter shut, you rested your head on his chest. He was taller than you. His hands holding your waist steady. Forehead resting against yours as tears began to drip down his face.

“I want to know everything” You spoke in hushed tones. Your voice soft, like music to his ears. He could feel your breath on his lips. “I want to make up for the time we lost, okay, I promise you”

He nodded lightly, sniffling.

“You’re so handsome, Tae” There was pride in your voice that brought a shy smile to his face. ��Look at you, all grown up” He chuckled, wiping his tears away. He looked at you again, sighing deeply before resting his head back on your shoulder.

You pressed your lips to Taehyung’s cheek before stepping away from him. He gasped for air, the walls closing around him suddenly at the loss of your touch.

“Listen, I need to go to the station to give my report. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He watched, again you were leaving him. Without looking back.

He almost believed you.

Almost.

It was a lie.

A pathetic lie, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing Taehyung—the real Taehyung, made it all too real.

Can we not meet at the station?

You sent the message—not knowing if Jungkook would respond.

Could use a drink. Meet me here—he sent an address. Tucked away in the inner city where no one would recognize you. None of Jin’s lackeys, or your mother’s goons. It was hardly your kind of crowd. You were surprised—pleasantly even. Jeon Jungkook didn’t come across as someone who liked to party.

“Hey” He showed. No longer in his stupid leather jacket, he looked different, simply in a white t-shirt. Chain on his neck. Hair haphazard, rather than the slick back he wore to work. “You good?”

Jungkook orders two shots at the bar, sliding one to you as you settle into the barstool next to him. Remembering the last time the two of you were like this. The first day you met.

You clink your glass against his before downing the bitter liquid. You watch Jungkook’s face scrunch with distaste, followed by a smile.

You avoid his question, asking him instead: “Did you talk to Jimin?”

Jungkook nodded, “First, I want to talk to you about this morning” He placed his elbows on the bartop, leaning forward slightly. His voice lowered, “We were in a rush, but I want to hear what you were trying to say”

You scoffed.

“Did he hurt you, Y/n?” You glared at him. “You said he fucked you in your sleep…”

You exhaled slowly, “Honestly I wouldn’t mind what he did, if we had discussed it first. But in my gut I just knew, Taehyung—would never violate me like that” Your fingers curled into your palm, “He was so rough. So insane. I just” You shook your head, disgusted by the bought of pity in Jungkook’s eyes. “I’ve grown up with men like that”

He nodded, absorbing every word.

“Wanna dance?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Detective Jeon Jungkook dances?”

He gave you a sly wink before grabbing your wrist. With a tight pull, he leads you into the crowd. Locking his eyes with yours, everything else fading to dark as his magnetic pull drew you in.

You tried to focus on the music. The familiar feeling of a loud bass, a crowd of people and booze. Even still, intrusive thoughts knocked at your mind—Namjoon was home, Taehyung was home.

Taehyung resented you. Taehyung blamed you.

“Look at me” Jungkook leaned into you, hands ghosting over your hips as they began to sway to the pulsating beat. “Don’t think about them. Only look at me”

His eyes flickered with a softness. A pain which he also was trying so desperately to escape. You reckoned that Jungkook might have been a kind, fun loving person if not for the trauma the Kim’s put him through by killing his father. Instead he was trapped in the same web as you.

Your hands slid around his neck, loosely as your fingers weaved through his hair. He guided you, shielded you from onlookers. His eyes on you and nothing else. Transfixed to you like a curse.

It was ironic. Dangerous even. Everything about Jungkook made you distrust him. And you had no doubt he didn’t trust you either. Within the walls the two of you built, you had somehow grown closer. You couldn’t even pinpoint when. Somewhere along the way you began to see him clearly, or let him see you.

His touch is tender as he pulls your ass in, pressing your chest up against him so he can grind into you. His bulge gratifying, easing the tension throbbing between your legs. Stroking your ego, making you feel desired without the ugly aftertaste that often came with it. His large hands feel so good on you, you never want him to let go.

Your eyes flutter shut, surrendering completely to him. He turns you around so he can trace your neck with his nose. His fingers light fires across your sides, and you want to feel more but he doesn’t push it.

He stops suddenly, gazing at you with the colors of the flashing lights reflecting through his wide doe eyes. A glow on his face that you weren’t sure was real, or if it was simply the tone of his stare.

He looked as though he wanted to say something. And you desperately wanted to hear him. His mouth opened slightly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

The space between you vanishing.

Inch by inch.

Until you swore you could taste him.

Your phone vibrated suddenly. Jungkook flinched, stepping back. With a guilty look, you excused yourself, slipping into a quiet corner of the club.

“Mazel tov” The snarky voice echoed through, “The prodigal son returns”

“Where the fuck have you been?” You snapped. “How could you let this happen? How did you not know?”

“Relax darling, I’ve been caught up entertaining your lover boy. Glad to finally have him out of my hair, truly. He’s bad for my cortisol”

“Well did you get a confession?”

“He doesn’t remember. Which is good for us. I can easily plant evidence for your Detective”

“Good. Do it soon. Jungkook wants the murderer to be Namjoon so it’s likely he will believe anything he gets. Not sure what to do about this Park Jimin fellow”

“Well darling, like I said last time. You say the word, and I’ll clean up your mess”

Rolling your eyes, you hung up the phone. Turning back around, Jungkook stood where you left him, bewildered.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the sea of dancers. You didn’t know why—you didn’t care. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than that Jungkook’s hands all over you. His lips on yours. You wanted his snarky little comments, his profound advice. To learn his every scar. Every crevice. And show him yours. You wanted to run away with him and never look back.

“Kiss me Jeon Jungkook” You hooked his shirt, dragging his face down to yours. Catching his lips in a desperate kiss.

The heat was overwhelming. Shamelessly, you kissed him in the middle of the crowd. Music numbing out into the sounds of two pounding hearts. His hands finding the small of your back.

You’d kissed him before but this was different. Even in the fire of the moment, you could feel how much he wanted you. How much he craved your lips, just like you craved his. He was water, and you were dying of thirst. He was air, and you were drowning.

He cupped your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you impossibly closer. Finding breaths through your parted lips, you dared not pull away.

“Car” He breathed into your mouth. Voice raspy, feverish.

Grabbing his wrist, you led him out of the club. The fresh outdoor air hitting you with a sharp coldness. Loss of the bodies around you.

Jungkook slammed you against the hood of his car, pinning you down before sucking into your neck. You moaned loudly, his thigh slotting between your legs giving you barely any friction. You bucked your hips desperately as his lips moved down.

You were still wearing Namjoon’s clothes. Jungkook hissed, grabbing the hem of the hoodie and yanking it off of you. There was nothing underneath. Your nipples hardening in the cold as Jungkook smirked, rolling his thumb over one. Watching you writhe and twitch under him.

“You’re so fucking hot” He hissed, latching his teeth onto your tit and sucking lightly. Tongue darting out, flicking the sensitive flesh as your back arched. Looking down at him, as much as you wanted to look away. The pleasure unbearable.

He moved onto the other breast, taking his time as if the two of you weren’t in public. As if someone couldn’t just walk up and see how Jungkook shamelessly sucked your tits. Pulling away, you could see a string of drool land on your chest as he smacked his lips.

“Tell me what you want” He ordered, fingers gripping around your neck. Not tight enough to impact your breathing, but enough to make sure you knew who was in charge.

You were speechless. Irritated, Jungkook slid his thumb into your mouth and watched you suck it obscenely.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked again, replacing his thumb with his tongue, tangling it with yours into another kiss.

“You” You gasped, loving the weight of his strong body on yours. “I want you, Jungkook”

You could feel his lips curve into a grin. “For the record” He whispered, teeth grazing your lips, tugging at them. “I still hate you”

You nodded. Awestruck as he pulled his cock out, not letting you look anywhere but his eyes.

“I hate how entitled you are” He tugged your sweats down to press his heavy tip against your clit, “I hate how you’re so bratty”

He pressed his cock in, sliding into your folds just a bit. “Full of fucking attitude, think you’re fucking invincible.”

You gulped, recalling Taehyung’s similar words.

“I hate all these men in your life. You’re complicated. You’re messy. You’re manipulative, and I can see it” With every word he pressed in a little more until he bottomed out. Hissing sharply, he met your eyes again. “Playing victim, but you’re just as bad as the rest of them”

“So why the fuck” His lips were tight against yours, hardly kissing but more just breathing into one another, “Do I want you so much?” He thrust into you slowly, rolling his hips. You kissed his neck, moving your hands through his hair and onto his back as he found a steady rhythm.

Your legs caressed his back, moving up and down against him with every thrust. It was filthy. Your naked body against the cool metal of his car. Desperately throwing yourself at this man.

And yet, you held onto him as tight as you could, crying out as he pistoned in and out of you.

His hands moving under your thighs, nails gripping into them painfully as he lifted you up. You forgot how strong he was—effortlessly he carried you, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Face burying into your neck, lapping up the skin with open-mouthed kisses.

“You think you’re a princess do you?” Jungkook grabbed your neck, setting you back to lie on the car. Stilling for a moment he watched your fucked out eyes. “I’m thinking you’re more like a little desperate slut”

“I am” You exhaled, nodding dumbly, “I’m a slut for you. Wanna do whatever you want Jungkook please f-fuck”

He rammed back into you. Cock hitting you deep. You walls clenching around him, leaking to which Jungkook growled under his breath. His fingers finding your clit, working it expertly, causing your eyes to roll back as pleasure seized you.

Twitching all over, shocks of lust pouring through your veins. Jungkook coerced your orgasm as his cock sheathed into you. Your folds fluttering around his length, tightening it’s visceral grip.

“They can’t make you cum like I do baby” Jungkook pulled out, stroking himself against your thigh. “Get on your fucking knees”

You obeyed. Sliding down the car until your bare knees were on the parking lot. Jungkook’s cock stood proud in your face. You watched, eyes blasted and needy, before placing your own hands in place of his.

He watched as you stroked him. As your lips pressed against his tip before you let him sink down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you gave him everything you possibly could. Bobbing your head up and down, the noises bringing shame to your cheeks.

“Show me your pretty tits baby” Jungkook grabbed a fistful of your hair, “Want to cum on your tits”

You gasped, releasing him with a pop of your lips. Immediately pressing your tits together so Jungkook could slide his heavy cock between them. It felt good. Him rubbing up against you like this. Your heart against his pulsing need. You pulled him closer, wanting to feel him more. He licked his lips, watching you intently.

You stared up at him. Eyes gleaming. Jungkook spurted all over you, cum landing on your chest. Your heart sunk, knowing the moment would end. Reality was waiting for you at home. Your escape had ended.

Jungkook’s eyes softened, as he helped you up. You kissed him again, urging him for more. Urging him to fill you up again. To fuck you senseless all night long. Moaning into his mouth, you rolled your body against him.

“Fuck baby” Jungkook gripped your waist, stilling your movements, “You need me that bad huh?” You nodded, biting your lip as he teased you, “Yeah? You want more huh?”

You turned around, bending over so your ass was on display. Jungkook cursed under his breath as you spread your legs. An open invitation. Every man’s dream.

Licking his fingers, he ran them through your folds, spreading them out and pushing through the wetness. You gushed over him. Whimpering. He kept rubbing you, his movements strong but not rushed. Lips grazing your bare back.

His other hand slid between you and the car, gripping your breast hard. He pumped his fingers inside you, chest pressed against your back. You could feel his breath against your nape, riling you up even more. Heat pooling all over you.

He chuckled. The vibrations of which hit you right in the core. You were so turned on you couldn’t help it. You leaked all over, squirting into you palm. Jungkook laughed more as you came. Your fingers digging into your palms as you screamed.

“Already? You’re so fucking desperate”

“I don’t wanna go home” You confessed. Jungkook paused.

He turned you around, palm resting against your cheek.

“I know” He stiffened, “I’m sorry, for what you’re going through”

Jungkook pulled you up, grabbing your clothes from the ground. He led you to the backseat of the car where he let you tear his clothes off of him.

Settling onto his strong lap, he let you grind your wet pussy against him. Naked bodies fused together. You clawed at the back of his head, moaning at the top of your lungs as you sunk down on Jungkook’s cock again.

He watched you, amazed. Your eyes shut, bouncing up and down on him. Rutting desperately.

You’re not sure when you stopped. The two of you like hormonal teenagers, touching kissing and fucking until your limbs were sore. Jungkook, surprisingly, ever the giver, made you cum more times than you ever had in one night. And even when you were too sensitive for anything more, you still couldn’t find the will to leave.

Until you remembered the look in Taehyung’s eyes.

Jungkook held you. Lightly kissing your back as you cuddled into him. Again, another position you never thought you’d find yourself in with Jeon Jungkook.

“You should go” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. You gave him a hurt look, “I know, I know. You’ll be okay”

Sitting upright, you began to put your clothes on. Jungkook watched before speaking again,

“Jung Hoseok”

You stilled.

“Jin was seeing Jung Hoseok. The two of them were dating. I had a suspicion and Jimin confirmed it earlier.”

Shit.

“You acted like you didn’t know”

You looked at him. To see if he was actually hurt by your lying, or used to your games.

“I don’t know anyone named Jung Hoseok”

Jungkook stared at you before scoffing.

“Not only do you know Jung Hoseok, but I know that you called him many times before Jin’s death. I have evidence that both he and Namjoon were with you at some point that night,”

You remained silent, fuming.

“He was the one who called you earlier, wasn’t he?”

You swallowed.

“I’m not the one unwilling to be on the same side” Jungkook sighed, “I told you before, we can help each other out. You’re hiding so much from me, and have the audacity to think of yourself as a victim. All you need to do is tell me what happened that night, and I can help you figure this out”

“Fuck you Jeon. This was a mistake” You snapped, “Take me home”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, “Right. Home to your Kim boys. To your palace”

⟵|| previous || next ||⟶

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

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yeh-kaali-kaali-ankhein · 2 years ago

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Whoever is doing these edits you need to seriously staph😭

Caus you are singlehandedly causing enough destruction

🌚

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intplayboy · 9 months ago

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OT7/MULTI BTS DRABBLE MASTERPOST

all rights reserved. these fics or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

key: a - angst | f - fluff | h - humor | ac - action | s - smut

ya'aburnee sneak peek (minor a, f, h, ac) - coming soon

hybrid! bts x human detective female! reader

the boys are patiently yet eagerly waiting for you at home, knowing you had another action-packed day, and can’t wait to smother you and make sure you safely return home. But come to find out that you are injured at the front door in the arms of your older colleague, and to make matters worse, how and why you were injured.

witch's refuge (a, f, h, ac) - coming soon

royal soldiers bts ot7 x female witch! reader

in an era where the royal family denounces all magic, as one of the few remaining witches, you hide your powers. though you try to lead a normal life, only the seven accepting men make you feel truly understood. yet, what destiny awaits when you must reveal your true identity? character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

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writtenwhalien · 1 month ago

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a lover's redemption | chapter 3

chapter 3. the new normal

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

word count ↠ 13.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3

17th July 2009

The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.

“They confirmed the crash?” Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.

Han-Jae nodded. “Mostly. But he's gone.” He downed what was left of his drink. “Did we take care of the family?”

Jihoon swirls his glass. “We’ll let them go, they have no one.”

“Except Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,” Han-jae counters.

“They mean nothing to us.”

“But they were loyal to Sehun.”

Upon hearing this, Jimin went still, realising what’s happened.

“Their loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and they’ve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.”

Han-Jae said nothing else of the matter but his face did little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. “The other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. They’re digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Inconvenient?” he echoed. “The detectives are a problem?”

Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Funny,” Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. “You said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger — trafficking charges. Another detective’s on the case, isn’t he?” His tone sharpened. “You’ve been careless, Han-Jae.”

The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Watch your tongue, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s lip curled. “You’ve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."

Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."

"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."

"Foolishly?"

"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.

Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.

“I’ve given you more than enough leash,” Jihoon continued, his voice rising. “But if you think I’ll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.”

Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. “We’ll talk about this later,” he spat. “We have somewhere to be.”

Jihoon didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. “Get a gun.”

Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Now,” Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."

Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.

Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.

Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.

“Jimin,” she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I can’t do it.”

His mother’s embrace tightened. “I never wanted this for you, Jimin,” she murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. “But this is your life now. Your father won’t wait. If you don’t go back, he’ll only get angrier.”

Jimin shook his head. “Why do you let him—” His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. “You have to go now, before he comes looking for you.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.

The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them.

Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.

Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.

Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.

Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.

Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he ordered both boys.

Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.

Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. “I warned you to stay out of my business. But now, you’re here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The detective spat at Jihoon’s feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. “Come here.”

Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Now, Jimin."

Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.

Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.

"This man is a threat to us,” Jihoon said, calmly. “End him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “I-I can’t—”

Jihoon’s hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. “You’re weak,” he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. “Your mother’s made you soft.”

Jimin’s head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. “Is that why you always send her away?” he asked, teeth gritted. “To keep her away from me?”

Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. “She chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, it’s her choice. And it’s time you grew up and realised that.”

Jimin’s grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jimin’s ears long after the man’s body hit the floor.

Jihoon’s voice cut through the haze. “Finally.”

But Jimin didn’t hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his father’s shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. “You deal with the other one.”

Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taemin’s shoulder. “Go on, son.”

Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.

Han-Jae’s smile faded. “Do you want to disappoint me?”

The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.

The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.

Jimin’s stomach churned violently. He couldn’t bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, “I’m going to the car.”

Jihoon turned his head slightly but didn’t object. “Fine. Go.”

The indifference in his father’s voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.

The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.

The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.

He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.

His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.

When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detective’s lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.

“This is your life now,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.

His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didn’t come. They couldn’t — not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.

Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.

Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.

As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Present day

It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that you’re dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isn’t yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.

But it doesn’t happen.

As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.

The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and you’ll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing you’re sure of, is that you’re safe.

Looking around the room you’re in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with — now the man who saved your life…

It hasn’t escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun would’ve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you.

You’ve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that you’ve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun.

There’s definitely something going on, because there must’ve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you.

Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whatever’s going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too.

There’s also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water — a small reminder that you’re safe here.

As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see it’s also been bandaged and you’re almost certain you’ll find stitches under there. You’re also wearing clothes that aren’t yours — a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You don’t remember anything since falling unconscious but you’re sure one of the housemaids must’ve dressed you.

Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which you’re sure must show the events that took place at your home – you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that.

Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongi’s name. Just before you can press call, there’s a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly.

A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit… Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Yoongi.”

He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.”Y/N.” Walking over to your bed, he doesn’t hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.

He’s been working for Jimin, of course he has – his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your father’s death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, you’ve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too – someone you once considered a best friend.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you ask finally.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by that…

You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return – for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew.

“I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifted his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated.

Meeting his gaze, you said his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something you’d been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what would’ve been your father’s fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and you’d known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasn’t a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and you’d noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadn’t seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence – that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.

“I want to know who killed my dad.”

The words felt strange on your tongue – though your dad’s murder wasn’t a secret to you, you didn’t often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi.

Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. “You know.”

He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. “And I think you already know.”

The anger and frustration you’d been holding on to for years began to surface.“It was them, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi looked up. “Y/N–”

“Lee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?”

Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap.

“Do you know why?”

“Y/N, please, don’t–”

“You promised, Yoongi.”

Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Everything.”

So he did…

Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Lee’s, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyun’s intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving.

The Lee’s had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,

“The one that closed down months ago?” you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongi’s from there on one of your errands for him..

“Yes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?”

“Lee’s son?”

“Yes.”

You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance.

“Closing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.”

“The Benitoite.”

Yoongi nodded. “A clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.” Looking up, Yoongi carried on. “Once that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.”

“They killed her?”

Another nod.

Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldn’t say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didn’t make any of this easier to hear.

Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. “You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“When that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasn’t opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae weren’t just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.”

Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.

“They knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out. Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didn’t care who it was.

“A mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.”

You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dad’s friends you thought of them as family while growing up. It’s true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you would’ve expected of them.

“So that’s why they killed my dad?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Not exactly.” Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. “There was a lot happening around that time, I don’t know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.”

Your stomach curled.

“They wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No. And truthfully I don’t think your dad ever believed them anyway.”

It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly.

Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “I can tell you the rest another time.”

You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like you’ve heard enough, but you need to know. “What more is there? They killed him after that, no?”

Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Not quite.” He paused, waiting.

Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue.

“Did you know Han-jae was married twice?”

Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasn’t always there. “Yeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?”

“Not exactly, Jiyoung wasn’t Han-jae’s daughter.”

Now, this was news to you.

“And her mom wasn’t a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.”

The arranged marriage wasn’t a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your father’s affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadn’t known that Han-jae’s first wife despised him.

“After she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didn’t like her just as much as she didn’t like him, so… he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.”

Eyes widening, you asked, “The nightclub?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down. “But your dad saved her.”

Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.

Yoongi continues. “He knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.”

And just like that, it all made sense. “So that’s why they killed him.”

Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. “It was a means to an end for them,” he murmured. “Han-jae and Jihoon had changed. They weren’t who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.”

Yoongi’s words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger… your dad’s closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“Still could’ve told me,” you mumble, looking away from him.

“Would it have made a difference to anything?” he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile.

Realising he’s right, you frown indignantly. “Might’ve stopped this,” you say, knowing it’s a weak point.

Yoongi’s expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. “Nothing could’ve stopped this.”

Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil.

Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. “You need to tell me everything you know.”

Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. “I don’t actually know much,” you start, “Seojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He must’ve known who I was but I didn’t realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, he’d left and there was a note on the table.” Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi. “This is what it said.”

Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. “He must’ve known, but I don’t know how.” Looking up, he asks, “you never told him anything about your grandma?”

“No,” you shake your head. “He just knew.” Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun… he had a girlfriend. “Yoongi?” You meet his gaze with worried eyes. “He had a girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s expression softens, lips pursing. “Yeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.”

Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You don’t bother asking how she’s doing, that would be a pointless question – you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, you’re certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away… you’d never seen your mom in so much pain.

As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. “Did he not say anything at all about what he’d been doing?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.” Again, Yoongi’s expression looks pained.

“Why?”

“A few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and there’s since been a good few detectives on their case. Taemin’s uncle got some time in prison for it and even though he’s out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him… so they killed Seojun’s mom.”

The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. “So Seojun wanted to get back at them?”

Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. “Jimin warned him not to, he promised they’d work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, we’d join in on it.” Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. “We never got to find out what it was, and each week we’d see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish we’d taken more care.”

Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you don’t think you know how. “I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur.

He gives a small smile. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. “I left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.” Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.

Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. “Did he say what’s on it?”

“No,” you shake your head. “And it’s probably protected too since the Lee’s wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.” At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. “He kept saying he’d keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the end…” you trail off, looking down. “In the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.” You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in.

When you’re done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. “Minjun was a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, he seems like it,.” You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him.

“He has a brother, Kwan, he’s just as crazy, if not worse.”

The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you can’t imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasn’t really been on your side recently.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He smiles softly. “Your wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t use them though.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. “It’s not deep is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,” he looks up at you apologetically, “you’ll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.”

“Oh.” You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and you’re sure there’s more damage to the property that you’re not even aware of.

“Jimin is making all the arrangements,” Yoongi continues, “but he’s trying to keep things quiet so I don’t know exactly when things will be sorted.”

“He doesn’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“He wants to,” Yoongi responds. “He blames himself for what’s happened, so just let him please.” His words appear to carry more meaning, and you can’t imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.

“Why?”

“He blames himself for a lot of things,” Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. “This hasn’t helped.”

Even though it’s been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest – ever since you’ve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldn’t even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you don’t know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.

Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, “What happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?”

Yoongi looks up, grimacing. “It started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“And then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.”

“Taemin?!” you ask, surprised..

Yoongi nods. “He knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasn’t fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.” His expression darkens. “He watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. I’m so grateful we were with him that day…” He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to know what he means – Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too.

Your head lowers too. You don’t allow your thoughts to wonder what would’ve happened if Jimin had been alone, you’re just glad he got out. Though you can’t imagine what he must’ve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.

“Did he get to have a funeral for his dad?”

“Yeah,’ Yoongi answers. “Han-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasn’t having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and he’d lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.”

Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything he’s just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that they’ve fallen apart as well.

After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. “I was surprised when they brought you in.” You look up at him as he continues. “I thought he might’ve recognised you, but he said nothing.”

“Do you think he does?” you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. “But he’s just not saying it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Might be. If he does remember you though, he’ll say something.”

“Are you going to tell them?” you ask, looking at him.

“Only if you want me to.”

After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. “At least not yet.”

Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything that’s happened, and then it comes to you.

“Dani and Siho,” you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. “Did you get them out?”

Solemnly, Yoongi nods. “I sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Let me know what they say, I’ll sort it out for them..”

Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. “They knew the risks, Y/N, better than anyone else.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But it’s different, they were there because of me.”

“Yeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,” Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. “Sorry if this isn’t helping, you know I’m shit at comforting people.”

You smile. “I know.”

“Hey, you’re not any better though,” he says defensively, “you didn’t even hug me properly when my mom passed away.”

“What?” you chuckle. “I tried to, but I know you don’t like hugs.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not normally, but then I would've liked it.”

“Oh…” Now you feel bad. “Really?”

He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. “It’s okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.”

Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. “Yeah, you’re telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?” It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.

“Yes, actually,” Yoongi answers simply.

Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You don’t know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself.

As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. “Surprised?”

“Kind of.”

“You knew him though,” he says, as though that makes it so obvious.

“Knew,” you repeat. “I didn’t expect him to still be the same.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t say he’s changed, but I wouldn't exactly say he’s the same either…” looking up, he smiles again. “I guess you’ll get to see for yourself now.”

“I guess so,” you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you can’t ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, you’ll get to see for yourself if he’s anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you don’t think he would’ve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.

“D’you want something a bit more filling than that?” Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple you’ve just bitten into. “Dinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?”

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. “I am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckles, “you must be hungry, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Three days?!” When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. “I need to call Moni, she’s probably wo–”

“I already have,” Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.

Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. “What?”

“I already called her.”

A frown settles on your face. “What did you say?”

Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. “Everything, but Y/N, she needed to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “Sorry.”

For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasn’t related to any of the stuff you’ve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and what’s happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.

“Sorry,” you say. “You’re right, I just didn’t…” you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and you’re everything to her, just as she has been yours.

“I know,” Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.

“What did she say?”

“First, she just wanted to know if you were safe,” Yoongi answers. “After that, she didn’t say much except that she’ll come as soon as she can.”

You nod. Knowing she’s coming brings a smile to your face, you’ve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again.

“Come on,” Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, “let’s get you some food.”

“You still remember it?” Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.

Taking another step, you shrug. “I wasn’t that little when I was last here, I must’ve been, what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Hm, Yoongi hums. “Still impressive.” He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but you’re doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.

The Park Estate isn’t much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jimin’s. It’s flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the family’s quarter’s on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge.

Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg.

As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You can’t see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on.

“Jimin’s room is down there,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.

The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.

Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase you’re approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is.

As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you don’t respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.

“Lightning… is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky. In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia.

“My dad painted this,” you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas.

He doesn’t say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though he’s never seen it before. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an ‘old friend’, you know your father must’ve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldn’t trust Han-jae and Jihoon.

Just then, Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. “Come down if you can, or I’ll ask someone to come up,” he calls out as he’s already walking off towards the stairwell.

“Okay,” you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.

It’s not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but it’s also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. There’s a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and it’s a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldn’t return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your father’s own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.

You don’t realise you’re standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Admiring the art?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching his face – you didn’t realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you can’t stop staring.

He chuckles, glancing at the painting. “You know I was talking about the painting, not me?”

Shaking out of your daze, you smile. “Yes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,” he nods, still smiling. “I’m Seokjin, but call me Jin.” He extends his hand which you shake.

“Y/N, and it’s okay, not your fault.”

“How’s the wrist?” he asks, pointing to your wrist.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts.

“Good. And the leg?”

“It’s mostly fine,” you nod.

He smiles again. “That’s good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but it’s looking good so far. I didn’t expect you to be up so soon though,” he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.

You shrug.

“I take it this isn’t your first time getting hurt like this?” Seokjin says casually.

“What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gun…” he shakes his head, smiling. “It definitely wasn’t your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.”

Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again. “I guess I like getting shot at.”

“Just like everyone else here,” he laughs. “Well, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.”

“Sure,” you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. “So what about you?” you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell.

He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. “What about me?”

“This definitely isn’t your first time stitching someone up,” you remark.

“Ah,” he nods. “Definitely not.”

You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. “So you’re a doctor?”

He snorts, stepping along beside you. “No, but I should be. I’ve done this kind of stuff enough times.”

Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin.

“Jin hyung!” A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night – the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They can’t see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you.

They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads.

“Oh, miss L/N,” the first one comes forward, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” He has an adorable bunny smile and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“Nice to meet you Jungkook,” you reply, shaking his hand. “And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, got it,” he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly.

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Hoseok, Hobi for short,” he grins, shaking your hand.

“Hey.” You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg.

“Um, it’s okay,” you smile. “I can still walk at least.”

He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge.

Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table you’re sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly.

Before any of the guys notice you’re not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what they’re saying. It hasn’t escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasn’t recognised you – if he did, surely he would’ve told these guys since they were there too. You’re not sure if they know anything at all about you – perhaps you should’ve asked Yoongi about that before you came down.

Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, there’s some missing.

“Are there more of you?”

Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums.

Hoseok answers for him. “There’s Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.”

“They were there the other day,” Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly.

“Namjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,” Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. “We always eat together whenever we can and they’re about somewhere.”

It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t mention Jimin’s name though.

“Taehyung is probably in the wine cellar,” Hoseok says.

“Ah, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.”

Jungkook snorts. “He thinks he’s a sommelier.”

You smile. “Well, does he make a good choice?”

“I can never tell,” Jungkook shrugs.

Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. “He’s not matured enough.”

“Hey!” Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.

“Ah, speak of the devil!”

You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.

“Yoongi said you’d come down,” the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. “I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. He’s undeniably striking, and there’s something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.

The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. “I’m Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.” His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. “Finances, logistics, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.

Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. “How are you? I imagine this isn’t how you thought your day would go.”

You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. “Not exactly, no.”

Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. “Yeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people would’ve frozen in your position.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to defend myself,” you reply simply, not offering much else.

There’s a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.

“So,” Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. “Yoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.”

“Spicy works for me,” you say, grateful for the change in subject.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Great! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing – you’ll love it.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind – running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.

You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, “So, Y/N, what’s your impression of the estate so far?”

“It’s... different,” you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. “Bigger than I remember.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “You’ve been here before?”

You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. “Not this one exactly. Just a similar setup.”

Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and you’re thankful for the reprieve.

The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her – Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. You’re certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.

“Thanks, Ara,” Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.

When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.

Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. “She’s been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.”

You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.

On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.”

Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.

"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.

"Of course. It’s spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."

"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.

"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.

"More for us then."

As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. “You’ll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,” he says softly. “It’s easy to get lost, but it has its charms.”

You glance at him, wondering if there’s a deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll try not to get lost, then.”

He smiles faintly. “If you do, just call out. Someone will find you.”

Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. It’s clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why they’ve been by his side for so long – they feel like a family in their own right.

Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.

“Jin-hyung, don’t hog all the drumsticks,” Jungkook whines as he watches Jin’s plate pile up.

“Then grab faster,” Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.

Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. “I’m telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.”

“Should I?” Jungkook huffs dramatically. “Maybe next time I’ll just take the whole plate first.”

“Do it, and I’ll poison your portion,” Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. “Don’t worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.”

You smile faintly, watching them banter. It’s strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

“Maybe I’m just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,” you reply lightly.

Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. “Yeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.”

“I heard that,” Jin retorts, mock-offended. “I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re ensuring there’s nothing left for the rest of us,” Hoseok counters, sipping his water.

As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. It’s a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate.

“By the way, hyung,” Namjoon says, turning to Jin. “Have you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.”

“Oh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?” Jin sighs dramatically. “Can’t a guy just eat in peace?”

“It’s your own fault for procrastinating,” Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t drag me into your world of schedules,” Jin retorts. “I’m a free spirit.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.

“Enough guys,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseok’s. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Don’t eat all the dessert without us,” Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.

“Like we’d wait for you,” Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.

“Do they always leave like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. It’s a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.”

“Or they just like to be mysterious,” Jin adds, rolling his eyes. “Half the time, it’s probably nothing.”

You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but there’s no denying the underlying layers to their lives.

After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You nod, brushing it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Jin says, rising from his seat. “You should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.”

The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you can’t shake the feeling of what’s happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come.

Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. “It’s bringing back memories, huh?” He asks, seeing right through you.

“Yep.” You look around. “Loads. I don’t know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.” You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.

“I think it’s normal. You were young when you came here and I don’t think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?”

He’s right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoung’s occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, it’s like walking through a memory you can’t decide if you’re grateful for or aching to forget.

You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesn’t press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.

Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life you’re now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the house’s front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.

Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly.

Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driver’s seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.

Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you can’t see the estate’s gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind – a familiar marker from years ago.

“Where are they going?” you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.

“Something’s wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. They’ve been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons they’re now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.”

You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jimin’s mother’s garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.

As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isn’t much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.

Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. “I think you’re due for your meds again.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You wanna stay here or go back up?”

You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. “Mm, I know I slept for days, but I’m actually still exhausted.”

Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. “That’s to be expected. Don’t worry.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “We’ll go up, but this time we’re taking the lift.”

You can’t help but smile faintly at his consideration. “Appreciate that,” you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.

The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.

Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine – after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.

“Moni?” you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmother’s face appeared.

The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice warm. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. “Really.”

She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. “Good. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."

You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. “Tell me about Jimin.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“About recognizing you?” she asks, her brow lifting slightly.

You nod. “Nothing.”

She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. “I don’t imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You haven’t changed much. He, however... he’s different.”

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.

“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. “When I last saw him, I didn’t see the same little boy I knew.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. “Life hasn’t been kind to any of us.”

Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. “Do you remember his father?”

“Of course I do,” you say without hesitation. “It’s hard to forget a man as cold as him.”

“And Mr. Lee?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. “I know, Moni,” you say quietly, cutting her off.

She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."

“I know it was them,” you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They did it. They killed Dad.”

She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. “They were his best friends,” she says softly. “And then, all of a sudden…” She trails off.

You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. “You’re there now, though… so, do you trust Jimin?”

You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.

“I didn’t, at first,” you admit. “But I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."

She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. “You’re safe there, Y/N.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You trust Jimin?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation. “I trust him with you, and you’re my everything.”

The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.

“You need to rest,” she instructs, her tone turning firm again. “I’ll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.”

Your lips quirk up at the thought. “That would be nice.”

"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.

As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.

Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You can’t see the part of the grounds where Jimin’s mother’s garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.

As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.

As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadn’t thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.

Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.

“Can’t you sleep, little bear?”

The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.

Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier.

There’s a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.

You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.

Realising what he just said, his words stop you short – it’s the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.

Jimin steps closer, the lamp’s dim light casting soft shadows on his features.

As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you – a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence.

Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there’s a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.

“Y/N,” he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you admit, your voice soft. “I’m surprised you remember the book.”

Jimin’s smile grows, faint but genuine. “How could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.”

“Thank me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. “It was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasn’t allowed picture books of my own, so… thank you.”

You remember then how he once told you about his father’s strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books – if they didn’t teach something useful, they weren’t worth having.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly.

Jimin’s gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your father’s work.

“He was talented,” Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.

You smile faintly. “He was.”

After a moment, he adds, “I can have it moved to your room, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. This is where it belongs.”

Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. “It’s actually covering up a stain we couldn’t remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.”

“Me?” you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.

He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didn’t want to sleep, so you ran away from her – with all the paints.”

As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. “Oh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.”

Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. “We tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.”

You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s still here.”

Jimin’s smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. “It’s been a long time since then,” he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.

You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. “Yes,” you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. “Though being here again… it almost feels like no time at all.”

Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “I imagine it feels different,” he says, “without your father?”

“Exactly,” you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. “It felt safe wherever he was.”

“And now?” His question is soft, careful, as though he’s weighing each word before speaking.

You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. “I want to say yes,” you admit honestly, “but experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.”

Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. “You’ve learned not to trust anyone,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming.

“You’re right to think that,” he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls you’ve built all too well.

The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, “Can I trust you?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “But you’ll make that decision on your own.”

You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. There’s no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. It’s not a promise – it’s an invitation.

“Until then,” he continues, his voice softening, “please, make yourself at home. You’re safe here.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too – after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.

His presence feels closer now and you find yourself smiling faintly, glancing back at the painting.

It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jimin’s presence stirs in you – a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.

note. thank you all so much for reading! please don’t be a silent reader :’) this fic takes me forever to write and I’d love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333

#jimin x reader #pjm #park jimin #park jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin series #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jimin imagines #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #bts mafia #park jimin x you #jimin masterlist #bts masterlist

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lo1k-diamonds · 3 months ago

Text

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 🔥🔥

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.

104 notes · View notes

starboyyoongi · 10 months ago

Text

reckless. min yoongi au

⭑ summary: a dinner date with friends takes a turn for the worst when yoongi finds out something that he wasn’t supposed to know about.

⭑ pairings: min yoongi x black!female reader

⭑ warnings/tags: mentions of blood and murder, cursing but not too much, mafia!namjoon, mafia!jimin, reader is the head of the mafia, reader doesn’t make an appearance

⭑ notes: this is a super condensed drabble-like version of a fic idea that i have that isn’t completely fleshed out nor is it written yet. i thought about keeping the fic to myself until i actually wrote it, but decided that i wanna share it in small drabble-like increments like this instead (: (kind of like my own little way of getting my creative juices flowing i guess). feel free to leave your thoughts and i hope that you guys enjoy! x

THIS IS SO fucking boring, yoongi thought to himself as he dropped his gaze to his paper once more.

he couldn’t tell you what page they were on nor could he tell you what they were even talking about. all yoongi knew was that he was going to have a lot of catching up to do once the meeting was over and he was not looking forward to it at all. his mind starts to drift once more and he wonders how you did it. how were you able to pay attention in these meetings? how were you able to stay awake without banging your head against the table every five seconds? how were you able to do this back to back for sometimes a week straight?

yoongi will admit that he underestimated this part of the job. when things were initially thrusted onto him months ago, he found himself worrying about everything under the sun; how to talk to the other executives, how to manage the company’s payroll - shit, he was even worried about the plants in the lobby. it was silly, yes, but yoongi was truly clueless about his new position.

he still remembers the relief he felt when he was told that he’d be having someone guide him along for the first few weeks. it was one of the many things that you had set up before your sudden departure and yoongi couldn’t have been more thankful.

but the meetings.

god, the fucking meetings.

that was something that he wasn’t prepared for at all.

yoongi had no problem talking.

despite how nerve wracking it could be at times, yoongi was a natural at talking in meetings. so much so that he’s lead a couple of them himself and had everyone in the room singing him praises for days afterwards. talking was the last thing that min yoongi ever had to worry about in a meeting.

no, what was really his problem - his achilles heel, if you will - was having to hear others talk for long periods of time. he hated it. no, he despised it. yoongi despised how much time he had to waste listening to a room full of men drone on and on about things that they clearly didn’t care about let alone took time to read up on - another thing that he had come to hate about the meetings, too. seeing the look of shock on the other executives and assistants faces whenever he spoke was enough for yoongi to know that he was the only one in the room who actually knew what he was talking about.

he softly scoffed and shook his head.

what a bunch of morons, he thought.

yoongi’s mind was about to wander off again, but his thoughts came to a sudden halt when the lights flickered back on and the projector began to get shut down. breathing out a sigh of relief, he pushed his chair back and glanced around the room. the meeting was finally over.

yoongi stood up and began to gather his things which wasn’t much to begin with. a few of the associates started to come up to him and greet him before striking up meaningless conversation. he answered back with a small smile on his face and feigned interest in his voice; this was nothing but routine as usual for him. after another five minutes of fake smiles and promises of catching up over some lunch and golf, yoongi was finally able to leave.

as soon as he stepped inside of his office, yoongi threw his things down on the nearby coffee table and took a seat on the couch. just as he was about to shift into a comfortable position to lay down in, there was a knock at his door. he contemplated over whether or not he should answer.

maybe if i stay quiet they’ll go away, the tired man thought to himself.

“mr min? are you in there?” a familiar voice called out, words slightly muffled by the door.

yoongi sighed.

“yes, jongho, come in,” he replied.

jongho, his assistant, poked his head through the crack in the door and smiled before walking in. yoongi took note of the papers in the younger man’s hands and silently prayed that they weren’t for him. he couldn’t handle any more paperwork for the day.

“you look like shit.” jongho said as he took a seat across from yoongi who was now sporting an irritated look on his face.

“wow, jongho, thank you so much for noticing. anything else you wanna point out?” yoongi asked in a sarcastic tone.

jongho giggled and shook his head before saying, “i’m just messing with you, sir. seriously, though, you look pretty tired. is everything okay?”

yoongi nodded and replied, “i’m fine. that meeting just sucked the life out of me is all.”

“figures. i saw lee on my way here and had a feeling that the meeting was shit as usual.”

“that bastard never knows what he’s talking about yet still shows up and wastes everyone’s time. why do we keep doing business with him anyways?”

“he’s an investor, mr min. but if it makes you feel better, y/n didn’t like him either. she always hoped that he’d have an accident and wouldn’t show up.”

“of course she did,” yoongi muttered with a small smile upon hearing your name. “anyways, what’s up? are those papers for me?”

“no, no, these are for me. i just came in here to remind you that you have dinner with kim and park tonight” jongho said.

“thank you, i almost forgot about it. the dinner’s at eight, right?” yoongi asked as he rose to a standing position.

jongho followed suit as he answered, “yes. do you need me to get anything for you to bring later?”

“no, that’s okay,” yoongi said with a wave of his hand. “we’re eating at jimin’s anyways and i usually don’t bring anything, so.”

jongho nodded in response. “alright then, sounds good. i have to go and fax these documents, but is there anything else that you need from me?” he asked.

yoongi shook his head and waved his hand once more, signaling to jongho that he was free to go. once the door was closed shut, he settled into his chair and logged back into his computer. as he waited for the screen to load, he glanced at the time, but quickly wished that he hadn’t.

12:45 PM.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” yoongi muttered.

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

maybe it was the long day that he had or maybe it was the glass of whiskey that he had before he came, but yoongi was almost positive that there was something wrong with his eyesight. he blinked once, twice, three times before he glanced at namjoon then at jimin then back at namjoon once more. the older of the two casually sipped away at his champagne while the younger wiped his red stained hand with a napkin.

sucking in a breath, yoongi asked, “are you two going to tell me what the fuck is going on or am i supposed to pretend that i don’t see all of… this in front me?”

silence.

“hello? i know that you two heard me. answer my question” yoongi said, annoyance clear in his voice.

silence.

yoongi’s grip on his wine glass tightened.

“answer me right now or i swear to fucking god—” yoongi started saying, but he was cut off by namjoon who finally decided to speak.

“i’m not the one who’s covered in blood here. if anything, jimin should be the one to explain himself.” namjoon spoke.

jimin scoffed and quickly replied, “you may not be covered in blood, but the both of us are responsible for spilling it.”

yoongi’s eyes widened at jimin’s words.

“excuse me? what is he talking about? what are you talking about, jimin?” yoongi asked as he looked between the two.

his words, however, fell on deaf ears. neither namjoon nor jimin were paying attention to him. the pair was too busy bickering with one another and throwing around curse words instead.

“why the fuck didn’t you clean yourself up afterwards? you knew we were having dinner tonight.”

“you say it as if i purposely decided to show up in bloody clothes.”

“did you not? you’re literally sitting at the dinner table looking like you just finished slaughtering a fucking pig.”

“i mean, well, technically i did slaughter a pig tonight. so…”

now yoongi was really confused.

“wait, you— you slaughtered a pig before dinner? the two of you?” he asked in a confused tone.

“no, yoongi,” jimin said with a sigh. he looked away from namjoon then to yoongi as he continued. “we didn’t- i didn’t kill a literal pig tonight. i killed a man.”

yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“you killed… a man.��

“yes.”

“and now you’re covered in blood.”

“yes.”

“his blood. that man’s blood.”

“yes.”

“not a pig’s blood?”

“not a pig’s blood,” jimin confirmed before chuckling. “jeez, why are you acting like you’ve never seen someone covered in blood before? did y/n not come home looking like this?”

yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed. he shook his head and said, “no. she didn’t. why would she come home looking like that anyways?”

now it was namjoon and jimin’s turn to be confused. they glanced at one another before turning to look at yoongi who looked just as, if not more, confused as they did.

“yoongi, do you…” namjoon started slowly, pausing for a moment to think about what he was going to say. “do you know what y/n does? like, what she really does?”

“she runs the company that her father left for her,” yoongi answered almost immediately. “why? is there another company that she’s running or something?”

jimin jumped in and said, “not a company per se. more like a… a business of some sort. well, businesses.”

“businesses?” yoongi parroted. “what do you mean by ‘businesses’? namjoon, what the hell is jimin talking about? matter of fact, no, what the hell are you two trying to get at? what’s going on?”

jimin and namjoon looked at each other once again, this time with an unreadable expression on their faces. a sudden wave of anxiety washed over yoongi as he watched the pair with curiosity. he didn’t know it then, but what was about to come out of their mouths would ring in his ears for days to come.

“yoongi,” jimin started in a low, serious tone. “i’m not sure what y/n told you, but… the company isn’t the only thing that her father left for her. nor is she just the head of it.”

namjoon continued in the same tone, “y/n isn’t just another name in the business world, yoongi. she is the sole heir of the jade dragons.”

yoongi’s stomach started to turn.

“heir? she’s the heir?” yoongi muttered.

namjoon nodded in response.

“heir… so that means that she’s…” yoongi couldn’t say it. his tongue felt heavy and it was like the words were all of a sudden stuck in his throat.

he started shaking his head in disbelief.

this had to be some kind of sick and twisted joke, right?

“no,” yoongi said with his voice raised. “no, you’re lying, namjoon. you have to be. you have to be fucking lying to me right now.”

yoongi suddenly stood up from his chair, prompting namjoon and jimin to the same. jimin glanced at the wine glass that yoongi hadn’t put down since the conversation started and noticed how much tighter he was gripping it. it looked like it was about to break any second.

“yoongi, i know you’re in shock right now,” jimin said in a worried tone. “but i think that you should put the glass down. you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“that’s what you’re concerned about? and not the fact that you two have been fucking lying to me this entire time?” yoongi asked in disbelief.

“yes. i mean, no. i mean— look, i can explain everything, okay? i just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“tell me it isn’t true.”

“yoongi, i…”

“tell me it isn’t true, jimin.”

“i can’t… yoongi, i can’t.”

no.

“jimin, i swear to fucking god. tell me right now that it isn’t true.”

please, jimin.

“it’s true, yoongi.”

please.

“no. it can’t be.”

please.

“it is, yoongi. it’s true. we’re not lying.”

please.

the sound of the wine glass suddenly breaking filled the room. yoongi could barely register the small pieces of glass that were now digging into his skin and drawing blood. namjoon reached across the table to assess yoongi’s hand, but he moved his hand away and stepped back.

“she’s the head now, isn’t she? she’s the head of the jade dragons.” yoongi spoke quietly.

namjoon lowered his head and sighed before making a noise in agreement.

yoongi opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, anyways? the woman that he once knew was now a stranger—a fact that yoongi tried to ignore since the day that you left, but was now irrefutable—and so were the two men that stood in front of him.

strangers.

the four of you were nothing but strangers to one another.

and maybe that’s all you’d ever be now.

#min yoongi #bts #bts x reader #bts x black reader #yoongi au #bts au #black reader #bts fic #bts mafia au #kim namjoon #park jimin

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pjmmania · 3 months ago

Text

To Be a Viper - Prologue

Content Warnings: mentions of death, illegal/forced drug use

—————

The twenty-seven-year-old brunette adorned his torso with a grey jacket to match his classic-cut pants. Beneath the jacket was a simple white button-up, with a few buttons left undone near the collar. Everything was freshly pressed and smoothed to perfection, courtesy of the maid.

Standing in front of a full-body mirror, he leaned down and toyed with his hair a bit. He wanted it parted in the middle and mostly out of his face. Past experiences informed him that this was the best way to arrange it when he wanted to attract the opposite sex, and tonight was an important catch.

Suddenly, the young man heard the doorknob twist. It made him stand up straighter, as he knew it was probably his boss. He was one of the few who had a copy of the key to this hotel suite.

Correct in his assumption, his eyes fell upon the man's reflection in the mirror as he entered.

The boss, who also served as an older brother figure to him, was clad in much more casual clothing. He wasn't the one going out on this little mission. It was a solo job.

Crossing his arms over his simple black t-shirt, the boss smirked and cocked a brow, "Ah, you went with the Celine."

The younger went back to fixing his hair in the mirror, "So I did."

"I would have gone with the Louis Vuitton," The boss shrugged, "With the pinstripes. I love a good pinstripe."

Eyes were rolled, but he knew it was a jest, "You asked that I pull out all the stops. Trust me, I've never missed with this one. Women love it.”

The boss hummed and took a seat in the plush brown armchair in the corner of the room. Not quite as comfortable as the ones he owned back home, but this grand hotel had managed to find furniture that compared somewhat. Somewhat.

"You are due to leave soon so I won’t take up much of your time. I came to remind you to be quick," The boss said, "And careful."

He chuckled lowly, "Quick and careful are not words I’d use to describe the average rendezvous between a woman and myself.”

The boss became irate. The situation was extremely delicate, "I'm fucking serious, Taehyung."

"And I'm fucking joking, Jimin," The younger turned around once more to look at his eyes and reassure him, "I'm not an idiot. I know the objective."

"Not the time for joking," Jimin scowled with a tight jaw and intense eyes, "You need to bring her back unharmed, understand me?”

"I won’t harm a hair on her head, hyung," Taehyung put his hands up in defense, "Jesus Christ."

The boss sighed and leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on his quadriceps, "Well excuse me for feeling slightly uncomfortable with sending one of my assassins to go kidnap this one. I swear to God, the only reason I'm sending you is-"

"Because I'm the only face here that our enemies wouldn't recognize, I know. You've made that abundantly clear every time we've talked about this job," Taehyung muttered, "You need to just fucking relax, huh? I got this.”

Jimin didn’t appreciate the cockiness and nonchalance in his subordinate. He knew how Taehyung could be with women. And while he needed him to go out and do the job, the thought of him seducing this particular target left a sour taste. He got up out of the chair and walked up to the suited, arrogant man.

Taehyung took in the leader’s face. His eyes could tear through metal, callous and deadly. Jimin got close to his face, staring him down and speaking lowly, “I have no doubt that you ‘got this’ Taehyung. But let me make another thing abundantly clear to you. This job isn’t a chance for you to get your dick wet. So go, flirt all you want and make her want to leave with you. But if you make your flirtations physical, there will be hell to pay."

Taehyung was silent. This exercise of power wasn’t necessarily new, but the motivation behind it was. He and the others had never seen their leader become so fiercely protective over someone who wasn’t his own. Someone who was, at this point in time, a stranger to them.

The younger knew better than to push back any further. Finally, he dropped the tone, “I understand.”

Jimin nodded once, his searing eye contact unyielding, “Good. Now put on some cologne and head out. Jungkook is waiting for you with the car.”

Taehyung sighed and proceeded to follow instructions.

The boss remained glued to the same spot, hands in his pockets. Watching his junior finish up, he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek, unsettled in his gut.

Over the many years he’d spent in the business, he’d grown numb to it all. The blood, the theft, the torture, the kidnapping. It was all just part of this enormous task that had fallen into his lap years ago. Tonight, however, caused a stir within him. The nonchalance had been drained from his demeanor, replaced by a deep concern.

Before he noticed, Taehyung was at the door of the hotel suite, ready to leave, “Alright, I’m set. Anything else?”

Jimin’s gaze turned the opposite direction, towards the window at the other end of the room. Seoul was on the other side of that glass, aglow in the night. Busy, bustling, alive. The streets filling with people who had clocked out of work a few hours ago, now ready to let everything fall away at some bar or nightclub.

“Jimin?”

The older of the two didn’t move. His mind pondered various responses to Taehyung’s question. As much as he wanted to reiterate his order to be careful, there was no need to go down that road again. He knew all he needed to know.

“No,” Jimin said, “That is all. I’ll meet you back here in the morning.”

The door shut, and the job commenced.

The boss let out a breath he didn’t realize he was withholding, posture falling slightly.

This is really happening, he thought.

What he wanted least in the world was coming to pass - seeing you again.

He tried so hard for so long to avoid this. Bringing you into this mess was to inflict a permanent wound on you that would never heal. Old memories of you flashed in his mind. Some almost brought a smile to his face, only to be tainted by the fact that he was about to erase that version of you forever.

He remembered the day he said goodbye to you unknowingly for the last time. Had he known, he would have held you tighter, longer. He would have told you how much your friendship meant to him. How bright you made his days.

- Eleven years ago -

The cold steel of the locker created goosebumps on his arm as he leaned against it. The final bell of the day had rung and the hallway was flooded with students, some brushing against his other arm by accident in the swarm to exit the building.

Seventeen-year-old Jimin let out a sigh, pushing a few pieces of hair out of his face when he saw this one clique of girls pass by. He knew a few of them crushed on him and, though he'd never admit it, he enjoyed doing small things like that to work them up. One of them was named Hana. She was the one he had his sights on. An adolescent male like him couldn't help it.

Then you appeared and Jimin picked his backpack up from the floor, slinging it over his right shoulder. He also moved himself away from your locker so that you could access it.

"Hey you." You sighed as you used your typical greeting.

"Hey you. What took you so long?" He chided you, "Usually you're the one waiting for me."

You put your bag down with a huff, "Sorry. I had a question for Mrs. Choi after class and apparently so did many others."

Jimin, as per routine, took the opportunity to make fun of you, "Fucking dork, having questions about art history of all things."

You took it on the chin and returned the fire with a smirk, "You're one to talk. You stay after calculus all the time."

You dialed the correct series of numbers to unlock your locker and opened it.

"Advanced calculus." The ham corrected you.

Your eyes rolled as you retrieved your things from your locker and stuffed them into your backpack, "Whatever. The point is, we're both dorks. Just for different things."

Oh how he relished getting under your skin like that. He loved how your face looked when you became flustered. You might have been able to put on a grin, but your eyebrows would remain the tiniest bit serious. Having been your close companion since he was seven and you six, Jimin was an expert on your every expression.

"Hurry up, will you?" He continued pushing your buttons, "I'd like to get home."

You let out an audible sigh this time - another point for Jimin in the game of vexing you, "Then why don't you just leave without me and I'll walk?"

He laughed, "Because your parents would revoke my invitation to dinner with you guys on Sunday night."

You chuckled as you zipped up your backpack, "You know they would never. You're like a son to them. You and your brother. They wouldn't have you guys alone in that giant house while your parents are away for the weekend."

The two of you finally began your walk out of the building and into the parking lot. His car was always tucked away at the back of the lot.

Though your friendship was strong enough for both of you to feel relaxed with silent air between you, there was something you had been meaning to bring up. It was your turn to tease him.

"So," You said with a hint of mischief, "I heard Hana is having a party tomorrow night."

You watched his face change. His lips pursed as he tried not to smile. However, this attempt to appear unbothered was futile.

Your arms brushed together as you nudged him, "You going?"

Jimin shrugged and kept his focus on the way ahead, "I may drop by if I hear it's a good time."

You laughed, "Just go. You know she's only having it because she wants you to fuck her again."

His face went slightly red, causing him to dip his head down and chuckle. Then he lifted his gaze to meet your teasing eyes, "I am not used to you talking like this, Y/N. So vulgar these days. The fuck happened to you?"

"Sorry," You giggled, "No need to be too concerned, though. Despite the words I say, you know I have no actual experience in that department."

You came upon his car at last. Jimin unlocked it, causing the lights to flash twice. As he threw his backpack into the back seat, he said, "Well when you do, feel free to not tell me every detail."

"You're avoiding the topic at hand," You said as you got situated in the passenger seat, "You're going to the party, right?"

"Yes," Jimin let out an exasperated laugh, "Jesus Christ, Y/N. I'm going. Happy?"

You made a face and played with the strap adjusters on your bag, which was resting on your lap, "I mean I'm grossed out at the thought of you and her...doing stuff."

Jimin closed his door and turned on the engine, "You mean me fucking her?"

"Ew, Jiminie!"

"Hey, I'm just using the same term you did."

"Lesson learned.” You huffed.

Jimin smiled. There was that flustered face of yours again. He found it cute and naive as you tried to speak the language of your peers. It just didn't come naturally to you.

He pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to your house, which was conveniently on the same street as his. You both lived in a beautiful, gated community, home to the most illustrious families in Seoul. You moved in when you were just a small child. Jimin and his brother were the only other kids around, so naturally your families became close. You'd grown up together, gone to the same private schools, and hung out in the same social circles. To an outside eye, you appeared inseparable.

Did it deter some prospects away from both of you when it came to matters of the heart? Undeniably, yes. But it wasn't enough to force you to give up on your friendship. After all, girls seemed to be all over Jimin despite his closeness to you.

The car ride was filled with more banter, some gossip, and discussion of weekend plans. He was hanging out with his guy friends that night and going to Hana's party the next.

As always, the time passed quickly and he was pulling up your driveway before you realized.

You got out of the car, throwing your backpack over one shoulder, "Alright, I'll see you Sunday, I assume."

"Wait, you're not going to Hana's tomorrow?"

You smirked, "I'd rather not witness your flirtations."

"Oh come on," He tilted his head and grinned cheekily, "Her house is enormous. You wouldn't have to see me at all. It will be fun."

You considered it and decided maybe it could be fun. If it was bound to turn into a big party, then all of your other friends would be there too.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I guess I’ll go. We are Ubering, though. I’m not being your designated driver this time.”

You had turned sixteen a few months back and your parents were beginning to trust you with drinking with friends. They weren’t thrilled, as you were technically still underage, but they knew the culture and accepted it in certain circumstances. As long as you abided by your curfew and didn’t get into trouble, it was fine.

Jimin smiled at you with both eyes and lips, "I knew you'd come around. See you tomorrow."

"Bye Jiminie." You closed the passenger door and waved.

Then he reversed the vehicle out of your long black driveway. By the time he drove away in the direction of his own home, you had already turned your back to him.

__________

That was it, the last time he saw you. It was an unceremonious end to a treasured, deep friendship. The following day, the Park Family moved away. Over the following weeks, both of your lives turned upside down, but in very different ways.

That kind of light had evaded his life since you parted over a decade prior. Sure, he had made deep bonds with the men who worked for him. They were his brothers - he would and had killed for them. Still, nothing compared to the companionship he had with you. It was so innocent and sweet, a reminder that he used to exist in the world unplagued by this madness.

Jimin turned around to face the mirror. The man who reflected back was radically different from the boy who grew up with that sweet, vivacious girl. His face was sharper and his eyes darker, carrying a sinister look about them that struck fear into those who dared to cross him. His hair was an ashy blonde color, a consequence of having to change his appearance from time to time. In this business, that was par for the course.

Taehyung's suite included a kitchenette. Jimin went over to the little bar area and swooped up a fifth of whiskey. He gulped twice before twisting the cap back on and setting it down. He would return to his own suite and wait for the notification of your arrival.

"Why are we doing shots of whiskey?" you whined, "I hate whiskey."

Your elder cousin, Aera, snickered as she practically forced the full shot glass into your hand, "Because we're fucking celebrating!"

Your other cousin and Aera's twin brother, Eoduun, joined in the silliness by raising his glass in the middle for a toast, "To our Y/N, who is finally back in Seoul after three long years abroad. Studying paintings and shit in Europe."

"Being an art curator." You corrected with a shake of your head, though you couldn't help but laugh.

Eoduun paid no mind and went on, "May this night remind her of all the good things about Seoul and convince her to move back."

You put your hand over your eyes and kept shaking your head as the three of you clinked your small glasses together. When it came time to down the dark liquor, you braced yourself and made it quick.

You winced when it passed your tongue, "Damn that's awful. If anything, don't you think soju would be more appropriate after not being in Seoul for so long?"

Aera played with your hair a bit, "Look around you, Y/N. This is the nicest, most exclusive nightclub in the city. No one wants soju here. They come here for something different than the everyday."

Observing your surroundings, you saw that she was right. No one had bottles of soju at their tables. It was all expensive champagne and top-shelf liquors. People were loud and dressed to the nines, some sitting at quilted red velvet booths and others standing at the various bars and pool tables. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone clad in non-designer clothing.

As for you, a black sleeveless mock-neck top underneath a beige Ralph Lauren blazer did the trick. You paired it with a black mini-skirt and the signature red-bottom pumps. A habit you picked up in Europe was dressing in the classics. Stick to that, and one can never appear out of style.

“Anyway,” Eoduun leaned forward across the table, his glossy black hair reflecting the blue and purple lighting above, “Are you here to stay?”

You pursed your lips together. It was endearing that they clearly wanted you to move back home - only it didn’t feel like home for you anymore. Not since you lost your parents. Their deaths left you feeling untethered to this city, regardless of the fact that your Uncle Yohan and cousins still resided within its bounds,

“I don’t know,” you fibbed, “Maybe. I do really enjoy Europe.”

Aera hummed, “The museums, the statues, the elegance, the old money.”

“Which is funny, because you come from some of the oldest money in this country.” Eoduun added.

Thankfully, the twins dropped the subject after that. It was obviously making you squirm, and tonight was about having fun.

The drinks began flowing steadier. You danced, laughed your heart out, and reminisced on old times. The latter occurred when you were sitting in your booth, significantly less sober than when you arrived.

The stillness of sitting down gave your mind the bandwidth to wander to all sorts of things about your past. A dangerous game for you, as it always led you to what you hated remembering the most - or rather, who.

The Park boy who disappeared abruptly all those years ago. The friend who was ripped out of your life without so much as a proper goodbye or warning. It left a scar deep inside you that you never wanted to graze. Yet every now and then, in drunken moments like these, his beaming face would flash across your mind. Maybe he and his family moved away, or maybe he was dead. You had no idea.

You learned over the years not to verbalize his memory. If you didn’t bring it up, it would fade away faster and the feeling inside you would pass.

It helped that Aera was a chatty individual, always having something else to talk about. With a slurred vocabulary, she began asking you about the lack of sunshine in London or something like that. It was unclear to you, because right at that moment, you caught the eye of some stranger standing at the bar.

Perfect timing, you thought. An even better distraction had come along to save you.

He was in a beautiful grey suit, peering at you with eyes unlike any you’d ever seen. His face was otherworldly, and when he smiled? Oh, that smug little grin was more attractive than you would have preferred to admit.

Your cousins noticed you staring.

“Y/N’s got a little heartthrob over there.” Eoduun remarked.

“Go talk to him!” Aera encouraged with an obnoxious giggle, “He’s hot!”

“No,” her brother protested, “This is a family outing.”

“Oh let her live!” She returned.

“Yeah, Eoduun,” you smirked back at him, “Let me live. Then maybe you can go strike up a conversation with that girl in the sequin dress you’ve been gawking at all night.”

“Not interested, actually,” he said in between sips of his scotch, “Something about the way she carries herself that I don’t like.”

“What high standards,” the other twin rolled her eyes and then turned her focus to you, “Go talk to him. Just text us if you plan on leaving with him.”

You smiled and gave her a familial kiss on her cheek as a means of thanking her.

That gorgeous man watched you rise from your seat and maintained his grin. You subtly adjusted your skirt as you approached him, hoping your gait didn’t appear too intoxicated and trying not to stumble in your heels.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked you. His elbow rested in the bar top, while his other hand was occupied with something on the rocks.

You played with your handbag a bit, “That’s funny. I saw you staring at me and came over to ask you the same thing.”

He chuckled, “Taehyung.”

“Y/N.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you in jest,“You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.”

You laughed and further closed the gap between the two of you, “You can get me a drink, as a matter of fact.”

“I’d be much obliged.” He nodded, setting his own drink down on the counter. He then shifted his body to make room for you to come stand next to him, “What will you have?”

You had been consuming mostly gin-based cocktails the whole night. You thought it better to stick with that and requested a dirty martini. Taehyung ordered it for you.

As the bartender began the creation of your next beverage, you continued to chat, “A nice suit, Taehyung. What is it, Celine?”

The handsome man raised his brows and chuckled, tilting his glass toward you, “Very good. You have an eye for fashion, clearly.”

You noticed his gaze scanning your own attire and detected a hint of lust behind it.

Taehyung remarked, “I’m afraid I can’t name the designer, but I do find it ravishing.”

You giggled as the bartender handed you the martini, “Ravishing? What an old-fashioned word.”

“You strike me as someone who likes the classics,” he shrugged, “Besides, I’m a gentleman, Y/N. I would never dream of offending a woman with lower terms…Unless she wanted me to.”

That did it. Your cheeks felt warm with infatuation. You tried to mask the smile that was begging to appear from your glossed lips. Still, you had to play the game if you wanted this to keep going.

Successfully you reeled in the giddiness and replaced it with a relaxed, confident smile. You simply clinked your glass with his as a reply. This caused your newfound companion to bite his bottom lip ever so slightly in a smirk.

The two of you continued to talk over the next hour. You learned he was raised in Geochang and had a job in some marketing firm in the city. When asked the same question, you told him that you were born and raised in Seoul, having recently returned from a stint abroad curating art. He seemed to find that fascinating and asked for more information about your favorite pieces and whatnot.

He would touch your hips occasionally, increasing your want. You wondered when he would lean in for the kiss or take you out onto the floor to dance. However, it was unbeknownst to you that he had been given strict orders not to cross that line.

His boss failed to mention that adhering to this guideline might be challenging. He said nothing about you having a wit or your seduction tactics. This job was proving to be a test of Taehyung's restraint.

Eventually, you saw Aera and Eoduun leave their booth and hit the dance floor, no longer paying mind to this interaction.

It was while you were looking away to locate them that Taehyung made the killing blow.

He propped his elbow up on the bar to appear casual to any wandering eyes. When the coast seemed to be clear, he lowered his hand as if to lay it on the surface of the counter. During this millisecond, he dropped the small substance into your drink.

You turned back to face him a few seconds later, none the wiser.

As you took another sip of your drink, the man texted on his phone briefly and discreetly. You enjoyed how suave he looked doing even the most basic things.

As the flirtations went on, Taehyung observed you doom yourself sip after sip. He knew that time was running out, so he leaned into you and said directly in your ear, "It's getting a little rowdy in here, huh?"

You put on a charming smile and leaned right back into him, touching his upper arm with your free hand, "I couldn't agree more."

You were so close that you could feel his exhale on your nose. He said lowly, "Would you like to go back to my place? I have some art you can critique."

You laughed, and then nodded, "I'd love to."

As he led you toward the exit of the club, you remembered to shoot Aera and Eoduun a text. Doing so proved a bit difficult - your vision was getting a little fuzzy. You chalked it up to having one too many drinks and nothing more.

Your escort noticed that you had looped your arm in his. You played it off as a cute little gesture, but the reality was that you needed the support to walk in a straight line. Taehyung knew the signs of the drug taking effect, and this was certainly one of them.

He sped things along, hoping to find his colleague waiting for them on the curb as planned.

By the time the two of you reached the doors, the black Range Rover with tinted windows was parked and ready to go.

"Here we are." The man in the grey suit grinned.

You were now in considerably worse shape and asked, "Did you...did you call us an Uber?"

"Of course I did," Taehyung played it cool and put his arm around you to offer more support without drawing too much attention, "Luckily he was in the area and could get here in a minute."

"Oh. That's convenient."

When he opened the door to the backseat, he made immediate eye contact with the driver, Jungkook. You were too busy stepping up into the vehicle to notice the two of them nodding at one another.

Your new acquaintance climbed in after you and shut the door.

The driver played the part well and asked, "How are you both doing tonight?"

You could see his round, curious eyes in the rearview mirror. While Taehyung shot him a glare, you replied, "Great, though a little drunk."

Jungkook chuckled as he put the car into gear. He got a kick out of playing with people like this, especially when his boss wasn’t around to chide him for it.

The Range Rover rolled back into the correct lane and began the short drive to Josun Palace, the most opulent hotel in the city.

In the backseat, you started to lean your head on Taehyung’s shoulder. You had slipped into the blackout territory.

The man sitting next to you told the driver, “Hurry up, will you? I think she needs to get to bed.”

Jungkook glanced back at you in the rearview mirror. He had to reach their destination with haste, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to walk yourself up to the suite and draw attention.

A couple minutes later, they arrived. Jungkook parked the car and together they whisked you out and hurried you inside. You were too far gone to even notice that you weren’t at Taehyung’s apartment, but at a hotel.

You were muttering things they couldn’t understand, vision extremely distorted. Your legs felt like they were barely attached to you. The only thing that really registered with your system was the change in lighting, from a night sky to artificial brightness.

The two men moved with urgency, yet hid it by acting all happy. They made it look as if the three of you were hammered, laughing and talking. This diminished any concerns others might have had for you. You were simply a group of intoxicated young people, not a kidnapping in-action.

The journey up to the top floors felt like ten hours to you. When the elevator let out onto the correct floor, you were in the final stages, ready to pass out at any moment.

The two abductors moved swiftly, Taehyung pulling out his room key.

Their boss was waiting for them inside, sitting in a lounge. The room was dimly lit, curtains shut.

Park Jimin had seen many disturbing things in this life. He’d seen bloodshed, gore, unimaginable horrors. Things that seemed impossible to make amends with and yet he had. The sight before him now, of you, eyes halfway closed being held up by his men, was another matter. It twisted his guts.

You looked so pathetic, so weak. Your body was almost entirely limp, head hanging low.

The boss’s jaw clenched as he swallowed, "Well done, both of you."

Taehyung scoffed, "I did most of the work."

Jimin glared at him, "Shut the fuck up and get her on the bed."

They followed his order, one scooping you up by the knees and the other by your shoulders. You were hoisted onto the bed, now fully unconscious.

The leader approached you with a caution that left his subordinates confused. He was slow and silent, observing your faltered body. His face showed resolve, but his body language showed regret. He wished for years that this would never have to happen, and it had come to pass.

Jungkook asked with hesitation, "Are we...Are we good?"

Jimin looked at them and nodded once, "Yes. However, I've decided to stay here with her. Tae, get your stuff. You may sleep in my suite instead."

Within a few minutes, the pair left. The boss pulled a chair up next to the bed and began his watch over you. The drug would likely induce some unfavorable side effects and he was best positioned to care for you if and when they appeared.

He turned off all other lights in the suite, save one lamp on the nightstand between you and him. It provided enough lighting for him to study your face. Your features were completely relaxed, some of your eye makeup smudged, lips slightly parted.

It was still close to unfathomable that he was really looking at you, after all the years. Jimin had taken you back into his life by force, and a few hours prior, it felt terrible. But now that you were here in his sights, there was a twinge of happiness in his hardened heart.

For the rest of the night, Jimin sat in that chair, occasionally dozing off and waking himself back to a state of alert. Waiting for you to wake up, and wondering what would happen when you did.

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