❇weirdo❇

You give him a small thanks before turning to the vanity mirror and taking a seat in order to fix your hair and makeup. The first thing you do is brush through your hair while Taehyung stands on the sideline, watching you. You bring a fancy hairpin along your hair, holding it up into a low bun, then turn towards the makeup kit to begin patting your face down.

The beauty comes along and when you reach a certain step, you frown slightly at the eyeliner in your hand.

You’ve always had Dasom handle your makeup and playing with eyeliner is something you have yet to get used to. But she did always mention using a sharp-lined corner as a guideline to help you through in case she wouldn’t be around to help you.

You look around before putting a leg up against the vanity, rolling your dress up to take the knife you had hidden against your thigh, and Taehyung watches with slight confusion as you line the edge of the knife along your eye.

He meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror when you use the knife as a guide to create your wings, your gaze intense with a fire he has yet to get used to.

He’s first to rip away from the contact, feeling rather flustered at how..hot that was.

Respectfully.

“Shall we get going?” When you stand up and hold your hand out for him a few minutes later, Taehyung has to take a moment to take your appearance in. No matter how much time has passed, your beauty will always shine bright, but in the past months he’s met you again after a couple of passing years, you only seem to shine even brighter.

“Don’t get too carried away now,” you say and he realizes he got caught staring.

Taehyung clears his throat as he takes your hand and leads you to the door, not entirely fond of the fact that this is all for the sake of a sick bastard.

.

.

.

“As expected you are…” the second Leehyun sees you, he can’t help but fall into a slight daze, “..beautiful.” He speaks with a sighing breath as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing before him, and Taehyung’s stance straightens at those words, his eyes hardening at Leehyun.

Perhaps this is why you didn’t allow your Reapers in on this mission. Would they be able to hold themselves back for their boss? Even he’s having a hard time restraining himself.

Leehyun reaches out to lightly brush a strand of hair to the side and when he leans into you, you can feel Taehyung’s hold of your hand tightening. “I can’t wait to become a family,” he whispers, and perhaps to others, he truly adores his future daughter-in-law in an innocent way but to you and Taehyung, those words only bring chills down your spines.

“Father, Y/N.” Hyunjin steps in to the rescue, allowing his father to back away at the call of your names. “The guests have all arrived, we should get going.”

“Right.” He seems a bit disappointed at the moment ripped away from him but the three of you do not care for it as you turn to stand by Hyunjin’s side.

Taehyung takes a second to look at Hyunjin, who gives him silent words of reassurance, before he takes his leave from the potential newly made family. He walks away to join the room full of guests, blending into the crowd with cautious eyes staring at his surrounding.

“I don’t think you would have been able to hold yourself back if you were in my position,” he says the instant Jimin pulls up to his side, offering him a glass of champagne.

“Well,” Jimin hums, “it was bad enough just listening in on the conversations, I can only imagine.”

“He’ll die soon enough,” Yoongi speaks up with eyes staring straight towards the fancy door that hides the three of you from the eyes of the guests.

Soon enough they open with the sight of Hwang Leehyun with a proud grin on his face, the one that hides his sinister self, hidden from the public to see. And hidden from the eyes of Leehyun and his men are the men of Bangtan blended in with the crowd, watching with steady eyes as he opens his mouth with a prepared speech at hand.

“I thank you for coming here on short notice..” he begins and his voice trails off for Hoseok as he walks about discreetly, watching the room to see if anything is amiss.

There are two guards by the entrance door, three men upstairs keeping an eye on the room, and a few more in the room, dressed in black suits with earpieces connecting them to one another for communication purposes.

If anything happens, you’re the last person they’ll think to harm, especially with Hyunjin and Leehyun by your side so he doesn’t need to worry about your safety for the beginning portion of all of this.

You’ll be alright…for now.

“I ask that you protect her well,” Mingyu’s voice echoes in his head. “Whatever you do, do not stop her, however…save her…if it so gets to that point.”

In the beginning, he couldn’t understand what those words meant. They lied heavy with great responsibility and although Hoseok knew he would have obliged them without Mingyu having to say it, now that he understands the context of things, it only makes him sick to the stomach.

The things you went through when you left them can only be left to their imaginations and for your sake, Hoseok hopes you can keep strong.

He saw how much you’ve changed, the strength in you different from how it was during the three years he got to know and love you. You have a sort of strength that seems almost impossible to break, your thoughts and mind plagued with only the desire to seek revenge for those that have wronged you.

But even the strongest villains in the world can break down and fall apart.

What if something goes wrong down this line? What would happen then?

“Please welcome my future daughter-in-law,” he hears Leehyun say, and you come into sight, a dignified beauty beyond compare.

You’re beautiful, glowing brightly under the chandelier lights, and he knows that everyone else in the room is thinking the very same thoughts. When you grace them with a smile, you only shine brighter, and before they can approach you with congratulations and introduce themselves, they have to take a moment of breath to take your beauty in.

You’re beautiful.

Hoseok looks around the room to find Namjoon who stands from afar, his stare blank. To anyone, he looks as if he holds no emotions on his face, but Hoseok knows better than that.

He’s mesmerized yet at the same time, worried.

They all share the same thought, he realizes, when he finds the rest of them.

Leehyun will die tonight but what price would you have to pay in order to reach that goal?

Will you be alright?

“How long until the wedding? Will you hold a formal party or will there only be a private signing of papers?” When the question is asked, you take a glance at Hyunjin, who chuckles lightly in response.

“Our Y/N here is shyer than she seems so for her sake, we’ll keep the process private and quick.”

“And besides, the quicker the process, the faster we get to be family.” You don’t know why Leehyun agrees to Hyunjin so quickly but when he lands a hand on your shoulder, you can only think about how uncomfortable you’re feeling.

The guest at hand laughs with ignorance. “You’re lucky such a beauty will become a member of your family.”

“Yes, indeed I am.”

You discreetly glance over at Hyunjin when his father squeezes your shoulder as he continues speaking to the guest as if you were the one he was presenting as his potential wife.

It’s irritating.

Disgusting.

Hyunjin reaches over to take you back when someone calls for his attention.

“May I have a moment with you?” They ask, and Hyunjin hesitates with a glance your way, enticing a chuckle out of the guest. “Come on now, Hyunjin, I know you’re eager to marry such a beauty but you’ll get her the rest of your life so let me steal you for a moment, yeah?”

You give Hyunjin a small nod to let him know that it was alright to leave your side, and although he continues his debate in his head, he’s eventually dragged off away and out of sight from you, leaving you to converse with more guests with Leehyun by your side.

“Are you tired?” After a few more minutes, he asks you the question which causes you to look up with a small huh. Leehyun grins your way, an innocent smile, but you know better than that. “You don’t do too well with crowds, do you? I think you should take a break. Here, let me get you out of here.”

He takes your hand without hesitating another beat and your heart quickens slightly as he begins dragging you off.

You feel eyes on you, alerted, but you signal Taehyung with a shake of your head, letting him know that he shouldn’t follow you.

If you’re going to do this properly, you can’t expose your weakness just yet.

He can’t stop you. None of them can.

And so you’re led to a door with a guard just outside, opening it for you, and Taehyung watches as the door closes with you and Leehyun on the other side, left alone together.

He bites his inner lip, anxious.

.

.

.

“Water?” Leehyun offers but you shake your head politely, remaining stood by the door as he walks further in to take a seat on one of the fancy comfortable chairs in the room. “Is it draining?” He asks after taking a sip of his drink. “I know you aren’t someone who likes staying in the presence of a crowd much, especially when you’re at the center of attention.”

Why is he speaking to you so casually? As if nothing about him is wrong?

No, this is how it’s always been, hasn’t it?

“I can endure it,” you answer him and he chuckles lowly in response.

“That’s right. You’ve always been so good at enduring things.” Your finger twitches at those words so you keep them hidden behind you, keeping the beat of your heart steady. “When this is all over, we’ll finally be a family, just the way I hoped many years ago.”

Many years ago.

Those years…you never want to remember anything from it.

“You can’t leave me now, Y/N,” he says and you keep silent. “Hyunjin seems to have taken a liking to you and he’s a bit more observant than he was then but he doesn’t have to know. Everything can still be kept a secret between the two of us.”

Secret.

You never did try to conceal anything. Back then you didn’t care whether you were hurt or not. All you knew was surviving and if that meant letting others hurt you, you did what you had to do. Hyunjin was the one who found out on his own and in turn, as a sincere apology for his ignorance, he left the country and took his father along with him.

He was and has always been a sincere man, unlike his father. Even though you knew he cared for you in some ways, he never did anything to force you to do things for him. He could have done anything and everything with you if he so wanted but he didn’t because unlike everyone else around you, he was human.

He had morals he abided by and always treated the people around him with respect.

If you had spoken up about your struggles then, perhaps you would have gotten hurt less.

“Have you taken a liking to Hyunjin as well?” Leehyun tsks lightly as he stands from his seat, walking slowly over to you with a small shake of his head as if liking your soon-to-be fiancé isn’t ideal. “That’s kind of a shame. You’ve always been a good little girl, haven’t you? You’ll listen to me still, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You stare at the ground, hating every bit of this, every little nickname he gives you, that glint in his eyes, everything.

“Eyes on me when I’m talking to you,” Leehyun commands in a tone that threatens to resurface your buried memories. He holds your chin up to force your eyes to meet his. “You’re not thinking about telling Hyunjin everything, are you?”

Your brows furrow.

“He’d never believe you, you know. Why would he? I could just tell him you came onto me.”

“What?”

“Hyunjin’s my son. Why would he believe you over me?” 

He doesn't understand anything, does he? Years ago he threatened you like this as well, though years ago it didn’t matter much because you didn’t care to tell anyone about anything. You were already far gone, not able to trust strangers.

Hyunjin could have saved you sooner than he did but you kept quiet.

Once someone’s been taught to stay quiet their whole life, how do they learn to scream and shout for help?

Hyunjin came to earn your trust when he proved his good heart by leaving the country for you, but even then you remember being in a state in which nothing mattered. Whether you were hurt or not, you couldn’t care about anything but pleasing your father and becoming stronger than you were then.

You endured through everything with a blank heart, mind falling into a state you aren’t be able to recall memories from. You remained quiet for the longest time.

Still, his tone threatens to shake your core. You can feel something building up inside of you, something not so good. It’s as if all the weights you thought had disappeared are all coming back up at the same time.

Father’s face reappears in your mind, his threatening gaze so dark and cold whenever he looks your way. All you ever were to him was a puppet in the making. He wanted you to grow up loyal and obedient only to him, to become strong and powerful, and if gaining strength meant enduring through all the things others did to you, he didn’t care to bat an eye your way, even as you were thrown to the wolves.

No.

He threw you to the wolves.

So of course he never cared what the wolves did to you in return. All he cared about was you returning to his side, whether that meant alive or not. He didn’t care for your survival, for your life or death.

If you came back with strength, that just meant feeding you to more wolves until you grew strong enough on your own.

Until you returned to bite the hand that fed you.

It’s a wonder he never saw your betrayal coming.

“We should return,” you say against the silence that befalls the room, making up an excuse. “If we stay here for any longer, the guests will wonder where we’ve gone.”

You turn to put a hand on the doorknob when Leehyun’s hand takes over yours. You restrain yourself well to not flinch at his touch, only retracing your hand back silently. He watches you while your eyes remain still before you, and when he opens the door, Leehyun holds your shoulder once again.

You hate every bit of this.

“Mr. Hwang.” Not even two strides out the door and someone approaches him.

You recognize the voice and when you look up, it’s indeed Namjoon who had decided to walk up to the two of you with Jungkook by his side, acting as a bodyguard more than an important figure.

Leehyun grows surprised at the sight, not expecting a man like Namjoon to have come to London, not to mention his son’s engagement party. He speaks up, bringing him into a conversation as you stay there, silent.

You can feel Jungkook’s piercing gaze on you, a silent question on the tip of his tongue as if wondering if you were alright and if Leehyun had done anything to you.

You weren’t alright, not alright at all. He didn’t do anything but it sure feels as if he did. You hate the touch of his hand on your bare shoulders, his skin burning against you like touching the spike of a porcupine but being forced to not flinch away.

Every part of your body screams to push him away as it prickles with disgust, a tremor waiting to reveal itself but you know how to handle it, you know when not to show your weaknesses before others. You’ve been taught your whole life to conceal all that you feel after all.

What more is a few minutes?

When father was around, he instilled the practice well into your head, engraving it as if a burning metal pressed hotly against your skin, the mark there to stay forever. 

That’s what Leehyun’s touch feels like; a hot iron burn that will remain forever even if he does manage to leave you alone.

Hyunjin, where’s Hyunjin?

Hyunjin isn’t anywhere in sight so despite the fact that there are two people here who are on your side, you know they can’t do anything to rip Leehyun’s touch off you.

The voices spoken between him and Namjoon fade in and out as your eyes shake, looking around for something, anything, when you catch the sight of a hand held out to you, grabbing your attention back forcefully from your moment of frantic.

You look up to find Namjoon right before you, his hand held out expectedly as one would when meeting someone for the first time. “It’s nice to meet you, miss Y/N,” the words slip easily from his lips.

Right.

Despite the fact that the two of you were wed once upon a time, no one knows of your relationship. You were kept a secret for the longest time. Mother’s pregnancy was announced the moment the two red lines appeared on the stick, her eyes bright with delight and hope, you remember the maids saying. But her happiness and joy were forcefully ripped away from her when the doctor congratulated her on the news of carrying a baby girl.

It wasn’t what mother wanted. It wasn’t what father wanted. It wasn’t what anyone wanted.

The congratulation that left the doctor’s mouth was the very reason his tongue was cut off and later killed by the order of your mother.

She wanted to get rid of you the instant she knew of your gender but she kept you. A part of her probably hoped you’d grow up competent, prove her wrong, prove the world — father wrong, that you’d be her pride and joy and she wouldn’t have to care about your gender.

Meanwhile, father was already letting the world know that her pregnancy was a fail, that she had a miscarriage. You were deemed a mistake before he even saw you, but he allowed the only thing mother had left to keep to herself with promising words of not wanting to have anything to do with you.

The birth was risky and mother grew severely depressed, affecting even more of her health, until eventually her blooms wilted away and the last thing you saw of her was her disgusted eyes filled with hatred towards you.

You ruined her. Your very own mother.

Father was heartless but he turned you into his little puppet to hold and manipulate the strings of. You followed his every word whether willingly or not. After all, a puppet has no control over its own strings. They only do and say what the puppetmaster wants them to. You were no exception.

He kept you a secret until the end, only sharing you with the people close to him but even then, he never cared to pay you any attention unless it was to use you as a pawn.

That’s why you grew to shy away from the crowd, hating every bit of attention on you. Yoongi told you that it could never be, that no matter where you go, eyes will always follow you, it’s only inevitable. Your beauty is like the bright light for the moth, he said, meant to attract attention no matter what you do.

You held onto his words dearly and keep them still because he’s right. You will never be able to truly blend into the crowd as you wish and you let that fall to your advantage once you learned to manipulate others in the same way father had.

Like father, like daughter.

You may hate your father but no matter what anyone says, the two of you share blood and a part of him will always be instilled in your veins.

You hate every part of the truth.

“..It’s nice to meet you,” you finally say after a heartbeat, holding your hand out to shake Namjoon’s hand.

You linger a little longer, grip tighter than it should for a casual handshake, hoping, praying, in your silent cry, for him to hold onto you just as tight and yank you out of Leehyun’s grip. It’s a silent plea you don’t realize you’re doing when your ex-husband watches you attentively. Anyone would think nothing of it but you see the slight furrow between his brows, the way his mouth protrudes in just the slightest unnoticeable way.

You want him to take you away, to save you.

But before anything can happen, it’s you who forces your hand away from his first as if waking from your moment of daze, remembering what you’re doing and why you’re here.

You can’t forget your revenge for a moment of peace. Peace has to come after the storm, not before, otherwise the fight and the war will be for naught. You can’t get caught up with a small glimpse of hope. You’re already here in this room, held against Leehyun, you can’t back down now.

Revenge revenge revenge.

This is all for the revenge.

Namjoon can sense something is wrong, wondering whether you can still keep yourself upright for the sake of the mission, but when you retract from his hold, he squeezes his hand that’s held in mid-air after you left him, returning it back to his side.

“I didn’t know you were the daughter of the Grim Reaper,” he says, keeping up the font of your father still alive and striving well and not six feet under or burned into crispy ashes. He isn’t sure what you’ve done to your father’s body and he doesn’t really want to know.

Something about the relationship gives him a bit of suspicion but he can only base that on what he’s seen. What he’s heard tells him a different story. You’ve never smeared your father’s name before him, even in death, in fact, you tell him he’s treated you well throughout your life but what if all of that is a lie, just as a lot of things about you? You feign your smile before others, picking up an arrogant aura, fake the way you welcome each and every attention that falls your way when you walk into a room.

What if what you’ve told them about your father has also been a lie?

“Father has always been overprotective about my identity,” you tell him, something that sounds so believable yet so false at the same time.

What if you got rid of him not because you were “bored” but because you were forced to? Because that was the only way to freedom you’d ever earn? Because there was no other choice? What if everything about you in those three years they spent with you were all nothing but lies?

No. You’ve always been truthful and honest.

He can still remember looking into your eyes and always seeing the sincerity in them, how nothing in this world felt real except the sincere eyes that you always gave him. He didn’t believe in anything but your eyes were the only thing he knew that could never lie to him. Anything else, anyone else would but you…you never lied to him.

Yet as he stands here now, he thinks that perhaps he had been naive all along. There was always a part of you that you’d hide from them after all, no matter how much they tried to edge you on, reminding you that they loved and cared for every part of you so that you would be willing to open up. They shared their secrets, their deepest insecurities with you. But before he could ever cut open your heart and see what was inside, he broke the ties between you and the rest, divorcing you all too soon.

“That reminds me,” you look at him with a small smile, as if you were that shy little girl who always hid behind him whenever strangers were to try a spark a conversation with you, “I hope you can still keep this a secret. The people here don’t truly know of my identity but because you’re from Korea, it’s a whole different story. So for the sake of my father’s wrath and to conceal his kind heart, I ask that you not mention any part of meeting me and announce it to the world.”

What if the reason your father kept your identity a secret is not because he loves you so dearly but because he hates everything about you?

He wants to doubt the sincerity you held for him in those three years he cared for you. Still, Namjoon says, “Of course. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.” When you give him a small bow of a nod as a way to thank him, you don’t allow your head to look back up so he’s left with only seeing your hair which conceals any emotions on your face.

You suddenly feel so small, as if the acting is beginning to take a toll on you and you’re starting to believe in this fantasy. As if Namjoon indeed doesn’t know you, as if you’re still that hopeless, pure little girl who’s been shut out from the world, as if you will indeed marry into the Hwangs and be trapped in a cage with the keys lost to the sea.

You wish Mingyu was here so that his presence can calm your racing heartbeat. You wish you could hear him with an intercom connecting his voice to your ears. You wish he could remind you to breathe, that you needn’t worry because he’s watching every step you make, that if anyone were to put you in harm’s way, Dasom’s bullet will pierce right into the skull of their heads.

You want to feel Dasom’s sniper watching you, you wish Yuna’s lingering gaze never left, and plunge yourself into drinking all of Yeonjun’s tea to end all the nerves that are screaming at you to break away from Leehyun’s hold.

To breathe.

To run away and find your safe place; in your Reaper’s safehold.

But you can’t because you’ve shut them out, told them to not interfere with your plans, to not stop you no matter what happens.

You don’t realize the Reapers are still watching you through Bangtan’s gaze, still ignorant to the fact that Mingyu had walked into their headquarters and dropped his head before Namjoon, asking them to protect you until the end, to save you if necessary. You don’t realize their protectiveness has been asked of to be replaced by Bangtan.

You don’t see Jungkook’s watchful gaze on you while Namjoon has Leehyun distracted in a conversation that falls deaf to his ears, careful in making sure Leehyun doesn’t mistake his watchful gaze on you and hide you away in response.

You don’t see the way the corner of Jungkook’s lip twitches, or the way he tries not to fiddle with his fingers in anxious thought of how this night will end but fails miserably. You don’t realize Jimin’s anger when he sees you held against Leehyun, standing by and watching with Yoongi as they recall the voices of conversations exchanged between you and Leehyun through Taehyung’s hidden mic.

You don’t see the way Taehyung rushes into the crowd, eyes scanning for a familiar figure to force him to return to your side otherwise he may snap and ruin the plan you so forced your Reapers away for.

But something goes wrong when he catches sight of the said man he placed his trust in to keep you safe. Hyunjin stands with a lower subordinate by his side, who whispers unheard words into his ear. Something’s wrong when he feels Taehyung’s gaze on him and looks up, his eyes hardening with a warning on the tip of his tongue.

Taehyung feels his mouth drying and when he snaps his head back at where you should be standing with Leehyun, Namjoon and Jungkook, but all that’s left are Namjoon and Jungkook without the other two figures in sight.

His eyes scan around the area, flashing with alarm as the words of Mingyu repeat in his head; “Don’t ever leave her side, no matter what. Don’t ever leave her alone with Leehyun.”

He knows you more than Taehyung does, probably knows every little secret you hold dearly within the thick walls you’ve built around yourself. He’s witnessed what you’ve been through, understands your responses and how to react to them, knows how to deal with every situation he’s faced with.

Taehyung doesn’t know anything. He has a clue but clues are useless and right now you’re missing, out of sight, and he feels as if the storm is coming sooner than it should. At a fast pace at that.

“Where’s Y/N?” He quickly asks the two boys who were last seen with her. The big boss gestures to two doors that lead away from the room where the party is held and grows irritated because he remembers all the doors in this house during his time here and that door does not lead to a private room. That room leads to a hallway into the unknown. “Why would you leave her out of your sight? I look away for one second to find Hyunjin and—”

“She asked us to let her go,” Jungkook cuts him off, his brows furrowed as he nips at his lower lip, a habit he does often when he’s anxious. “When Leehyun began to lead her away, she shook her head when we tried to stop him.”

They’re not supposed to stop you, they’re not supposed to do anything when you don’t give an order to. This is your revenge after all, your mission, so anything you say takes top priority but for once Taehyung wishes they hadn’t listened to your stupid demands and stopped you right then and there.

He understands Mingyu’s dilemma to a certain extent now. He might not know everything but he knows enough to understand that your underboss had every right to worry.

But right now he doesn’t have time to worry, to snap at the boys for letting you go. Right now he needs to find you and fix the situation before anything gets out of control.

“They’re filing in,” Hoseok’s voice walks into the intercom. Taehyung looks around to find him somewhere beside Seokjin, his voice discreet as if he were conversing in a friendly conversation with Seokjin rather than all of them. He doesn’t approach them for suspicions of their activity. “There are more of them now than there were minutes ago.”

The only guards, besides a few of them to avoid suspicion, should be Hyunjin’s people. He guesses this was what was exchanged between Hyunjin and the person beside him then.

Something’s definitely out of place.

Taehyung looks across the room to find Hyunjin making his way towards in, eyes meeting his as he speaks. “They’ve caught onto us.”

Four words simple enough to bring a shuddering rain crawling against their skin.

Namjoon keeps calm like the leader he is, knowing how to deal with situations like this due to experience. He can feel their gazes on him once the dreaded words leave Hyunjin’s lips, looking towards their alpha leader to give them direction and lead them to do what he thinks would save them from the situation. 

He turns to Taehyung and speaks. “Find another way in that leads through those doors and take Yoongi with you.”

.

.

.

“Do you know what I hate the most in this world?” Leehyun speaks calmly under the flickering light of the cold basement where he led you to after following a maze you probably won’t be able to remember the way of. The men he walked past stand just outside the door, leaving you alone with him once again. 

But this time there’s no one you can run to if something goes wrong, there’s no safety in knowing just outside the doors, you can cry for help and the crowd will look towards your call, glaring confused stares at Leehyun’s way.

It reminds you of a place you haven’t been to in a long, long time; the White Room.

Where you were held against your will, crying and begging for someone to help but the only people who stood outside were the guards who fell deaf to your cries. Even if the doors didn’t keep your screams in, you know they wouldn’t have helped you either.

It’s a bit different though, in lots of ways. This room is darker, lit up only by a flickering lightbulb held up by a string just above your head. You aren’t alone either, the perpetrator is here with you, keeping his watchful gaze on you, and you’re held bound by itchy ropes that are so bulky any movement against them forces prickling needles into your skin, sat on a lone wooden chair.

It’s cold though, in the same way the White Room had always been.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I? You’re a smart girl, go on and repeat those words to me,” Leehyun prompts you and to anyone, it sounds as if he were speaking to someone precious, a gentle nudge towards a child who needs to be reminded of the rules she just broke while remaining stern. You hate how he treats you.

Still, you chant out the words as if under a spell. You can’t ignore him for some reason, as if remembering how you were with him years ago, unable to disobey anything that he says or does. Your body remembers even if your mind tries to forget.

“When people touch the things that belong to you.” It tastes bitter against your mouth but you give him nothing to read on your expressionless face.

Just as they always were years ago.

“That’s right,” Leehyun nods. He crosses his arms against his chest. “So what happened?”

“I held Mr. Kim’s hand.”

“And?”

“I let him steal my attention.”

“And?”

“...” You hesitate for a moment, just a split moment because you know Leehyun hates it when people don’t answer him right away. “I allowed you to fall into my foolish traps. Made you believe in my lies and hid behind the protection of your very own son.”

“My very own son.” You aren’t sure the exact moment when he realized it but perhaps in the process of thinking you held him wrapped around your finger, he was the one who had control of everything. You were foolish to think you could easily execute your plans without any mishaps. “Did you come to London in the hopes of taking your revenge on me?” He asks. “Are you here to kill me?”

The anxiety is felt clearly along your body. You aren’t sure why you’re like this when you thought you’ve trained yourself well enough to face your opponents but you guess trauma will always return to you and remind you of how you dealt with things no matter how much time has passed. You’ve returned to the doll that you were before father died.

At this moment right here, you’re the same person you were when you were with Leehyun years ago; obedient, robotic, dull, and blank.

Habits are scary.

“..Would it upset you if I said yes?” But unlike those times, the emotions are clear and you’re unable to repress them in the way your body did then. You can feel the heavy weight sitting on your chest, something constricting your airway in order to make it harder to breathe, and the slight little trembles against your body which you’ve always done so well to hide.

He laughs and you remain still. “What happened to your father? Did you get rid of him?” He asks rather than answering your question. He knows your answer and you know his. “You hold your head up high now, flirt easily, acting arrogant and mighty.”

“I killed him,” you answer fluently.

He laughs again, this time with a bit of a surprise, as if he can’t believe the girl he knew then would have been capable of killing her own father. You always followed your father’s words as if they were law, never going against him no matter what he asks of you, like a trained puppet. When did you escape from those strings? When did you gather the courage to leave?

Or perhaps you were the one playing with his strings all along, pretending to be a good little doll for the sake of catching him off guard and killing him when he least expects it.

“I see,” Leehyun nods, his laugh fading away as he thinks about it. If you’re capable of killing your father, a ruthless and merciless man, then you’re capable of killing him. Still, Leehyun wants to see your skills and wants to witness just how powerful you’ve become.

He takes three long steps back, arms uncrossing to be held behind him, eyes watchful as he calls for his men to come in. Ten muscular men walk in ready at the command of their boss while you remain sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, limps bound by strong ropes that cut through your skin whenever you make even the slightest movement.

“Why don’t you show me your skills then, sweetheart? I want to see how this little girl could have possibly taken down the Grim Reaper.”

It isn’t a request, it’s an order.

And when the men draw in on you, you have no other choice but to comply with Leehyun and give him a show.

You force your body back to push the chair onto the hard floor, causing it to collide and break into pieces, allowing your body to no longer be bound by the chair.

Someone swings a weapon your way but you duck right on time, headbutting him the second you’re given the chance. Someone else reaches for your arm and forces you to jump, you manipulate your body to fall against another man as you kick your feet forward at the man who wanted to take your arm.

Your hairpin falls from your hair, forcing the sight of your clear vision to fall a bit hazy, distracted by strands of hair, but you pay it no mind as you snatch the hairpin from the floor with your teeth, getting a bit of your hair in between. Leehyun marvels at how it turns into a sharp weapon of some sort.

Your body moves fluidly like the leaves against the wind, like the tide meets the beach, crashing against the enemies, manipulating every movement while using his men at your disposal. 

He grows irritated at how weak they are against a smaller figure, a girl, who still has her hands and legs tied.

You use the sharpness of your hairpin to take the binds off your ankles when you get the chance, allowing your feet to then kick freely at whoever tries to come at you. They don’t stand a chance, and Leehyun realizes the person your father tried so hard to train is now laughing back at him.

He called you useless, weak, incompetent, but the person he sees now is anything but.

How had your father thrown such a sparkling gem away without knowing your potential? In those years he knew of you, you held some skills your father forced you to take but now he realizes a lot of things you’ve been hiding in those years. Even back then when you were less skilled than you are now, you did everything your father asked of you perfectly. Whatever mission he asked of you, you finished it and came back in one piece. Whatever person he asked you to take down, you returned just as well.

Your father created a monster.

A beautiful, powerful monster.

Did he ever realize your strength before he died by your hands?

When his men lay dead on the floor, your chest heaves hard as you stand in the middle, a cut on your face, a long gash along your leg, and although you should be falling down exhausted, you remain standing as you stare down at him with eyes that could very well belong to a beast.

You still have your hands tied behind your back, hairpin held against your teeth.

Perhaps this is your way of showing him your strength has yet to reach its maximum level.

For a moment, he’s genuinely afraid of the one before him. And when you force yourself to hurl at him, he doesn’t have time to think before the sharp hairpin stabs him right against his side, allowing a cry of pain to leave his lips.

You don’t keep the hairpin in, forcing it out because you know pressure against a wound helps to keep the blood in. You want it out.

When you see Leehyun’s legs giving out, you take that opportunity to kick the doorknob off the door with a harsh and forceful kick, opening it with a loud bang, and without a moment of hesitation, you run and run, trying to remember the path Leehyun took when he brought you in here.

Along the run, you take a big leap, jumping to allow your hands to rope from underneath your legs in order to be held before you rather than behind. You take the knife that had been hidden under your now torn dress, cutting the stingy rope and returning the hairpin to hold your hair back in place.

Your dash is mad while your eyes frantically look around, trying to calculate every movement, recalling the memories of what you saw when you followed Leehyun down here. You can hear the thunder of Leehyun’s feet just behind you and know that getting lost will risk you your life.

You can’t die now, not yet. You still have people to kill and although you told Hoseok dying is trivial and you don’t care how or by who, you don’t wish to die at the hands of a predator. Not here, not in the maze of his basement. 

So you allow your brain to work, eyes snapping at every new corner that has a fork in the road, taking the turn you think you remember until eventually, you hear a call. Two calls.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N, where are you?!”

It’s Taehyung and Yoongi.

You never thought you’d ever say that you would be relieved to hear the voices of your ex-lovers again but here you are, body almost giving in at just the sound of their voices. But you know better than that. You know you aren’t safe just yet.

Luckily your brain hadn’t failed you and luckily you find the familiar silhouettes of your ex-lovers as you run and run, unable to slow down at any given moment. For now, they are your safety net, for now, you aren’t alone.

You run towards the warmth of their presence, letting out a breath of relief, when a hand snatches your hair and pulls you clean off your feet.

You let out your first yelp of pain as you go down and before Taehyung and Yoongi can take another step forward, you feel the head of a gun to your temple and watch as they visibly freeze on the spot.

The sight of you is alarming; the tight straps of your dress fallen over your shoulder, one of them snapped into two, a cut on your cheek, disheveled hair, the skirt of your dress torn to reveal your legs where one of them has a gash along your skin. You ran without shoes, heels long forgotten somewhere along the line, the soles of your feet shattered in cuts and swollen red.

You wince at Leehyun’s forceful fistful of your hair, teeth clenching tightly, and the two before you almost wince along with you.

“Should I just end it here?” Leehyun says, his lips so close to your ear it brings a chill down your body. You hate how cold it is here. “You came to kill me, didn’t you? So why don’t I bring you along to hell with me? We belong together after all. You’re mine.”

You scoff at those words, shaking your head in order to keep his lips away from your ear but he forces you back in an instant. “You’re sick,” you spit his way. “I was and will never be yours.”

“Darling, what did I say about talking back?” He grits his teeth as he says so, suppressing a fit of anger that takes in the form of his ripping your hair. You let out a strangled noise that causes the two the urge to do anything to take you away but they know one slight movement can potentially have the trigger pulled and they can’t risk that.

“You were always a good little girl,” Leehyun says, still trying to keep this relationship sane. “What happened to that, huh? You were mine to hold and do anything to. Why can’t you obey me in the way you had then?” He turns his attention to Taehyung as if recalling something, eyes flashing with anger and resentment towards the younger lad. “If it hadn’t been for your little bodyguard and Hyunjin, I would’ve had my way with you long ago.”

“That’s precisely why I never left her alone,” Taehyung grits out, eyes hardening as he levels his glare down at him.

“She’s mine to own, not yours.”

“She’s not a possession for you to make claims to.” A voice reaches them from the back and you can physically feel Leehyun freeze up against your back when a click is heard. Hoseok holds his gun right at the back of his head, no amount of hesitation in his eyes were Leehyun to do anything to you. “Get your hands off her,” he demands in a threatening growl and it almost triggers some lost memory your past self had once held so dearly to her heart but you do well to repress it back.

Someone else appears from the shadows; Hyunjin. He takes a step from behind Taehyung and Yoongi, a gun leveling his father’s way while the rest of them follow along, completely trapping Leehyun.

“Ah..” He realizes his defeat and lets the grip on your hair go, causing the tightness to finally release from his hold.

Hoseok watches as you scramble to your feet, a little limp in your legs taking hold when you stand either from the weakness or the gash, or both. Yoongi helps you stand tall and he hates the sight he sees before him. You look terrible.

It’s fortunate they got here in time otherwise Hoseok would never forgive himself. He remembered the second Taehyung realized the change in the air, Hoseok’s heartbeat accelerated hard against his chest, breath shortening, and before Seokjin can realize the change in him, he remembered to remain calm and not let the situation take the best of him.

He was angry at the things he heard through the device Taehyung held hidden against his clothes while with you in person, hated every moment Hoseok had to sit there, listening to the vile things Leehyun said and your voice whispered in turn, feigning interest. If he were in Taehyung’s place, he knows he would have never been able to hold restrain.

Perhaps it was best letting Taehyung go after all. For a moment he had been afraid, they all were, because they know how Taehyung is with people. He doesn’t like the crowd, avoids parties, and prefers his own personal space. As a hacker, he had no reason to leave his lab but it was because his face was less known to the public that forced him to take up the mission of being by your side.

The rest of them were more at risk of being found out, their faces more known whereas Taehyung was a secret.

He did a better job than Hoseok expected. Even through the intercom, he could feel Taehyung’s frustration and anger building up the longer he stayed by your side having to witness everything firsthand. He restrained himself even though Hoseok could tell he wanted to punch Leehyun many times, and during moments when the two of you were left alone in the guest room, Taehyung held himself together as he saw you. 

You were the victim but you held onto yourself well, projecting a font that doesn’t slip as easily as his anger does.

At night it’s a bit easier to see your more vulnerable side but even then you hold yourself together. In your mindless state, you silently yearn for a familiar hold only your Reapers can provide.

Hoseok wonders why you never cry for help, why you never scream or shout. Even in the years he was with you, you cried silently as if afraid a peep of sound will have punishment forced upon you. He hates your silence.

Hyunjin offers his gun to you but you shake your head, taking ahold of your knife instead.

Hoseok wants to give Leehyun a good, solid punch in the face for all the things he’s done to you but he knows he can’t do that. This is your fight after all, your battle, and it’s up to you whether you want to kill Leehyun with your own hands or if you want to ask Hyunjin to do the honors instead.

He’s in no place to kill him himself. So Hoseok keeps his gun pointed at the man, eyes watchful as they give you space.

You’re in control.

When you look at Leehyun, the old man’s eyes are silently begging for help, for your mercy, but you can only laugh at those words echoing into your ears.

“It will do well for you to apologize now,” you say into the silence, offering him a false chance. “Why don’t you apologize, Mr. Hwang?”

His eyes tell you he’d rather fall off a bridge and into a hot active volcano than level himself below you and ask for your forgiveness. He gets off power after all, and if that’s taken away from him, he’ll grow angry and throw a tantrum like a child would if they couldn’t get what they wanted.

He knows you won’t give him your forgiveness and he knows he will die anyway. That’s how this world works. Once you have bullets on the verge of piercing through your skull, you have no chance left to run no matter how much you beg.

But he falls shameless either way, in hysteria, because fear of death takes priority over the shameful feeling of apologizing to someone younger than you. He falls to the floor, crawling on his knees, begging for mercy with a chant that repeats again and again in your ears like a mantra.

You stare down at him as he worships the ground you stand on, head bowed forward in a shameless position, pleading and begging for you to spare his life. He has no shame, throwing away all his dignity to bow to you like a god in front of his son and Bangtan.

“Please Y/N. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Please, I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Why is that flashing in your thoughts right now? The sight of you leaning your head down in a shameless manner, the night you tore the ring off your finger?

Namjoon falls into your line of sight. He watches the scene unfold silently and you wonder what he’s thinking about. This is the first time you’ve had someone bowing and pleading before you and you feel absolutely no sympathy for him. But even you understand the difference this situation is from yours.

You had no idea what you were apologizing for because you had nothing to apologize for. Nothing was your fault yet you felt like everything was your fault. But for Leehyun? He has no idea what he’s apologizing for because he has everything to apologize for.

Everything is his fault yet you know he feels as if nothing is his fault.

It irritates you.

You hate the sound of his begging, the annoying voice, those annoying words that repeat over and over again without any source of sincerity behind them.

“You…you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you?” You ask the pitiful man before you, anger and ire building up. You feel like a ticking bomb that will explode at any second. “You’ve never shown me any mercy so why should I show you mercy?”

“Th-that’s because..” Leehyun looks up, frantically searching for an answer when something pops into his head, and the begging stops as his eyes twist into something sinister. You’ve seen that before, an expression you’ve met and encountered with so many people throughout your years of surviving in this world. “That’s because you never stopped me,” he says and you blink at him, brows knitting.

“..What?”

He sits up as if a realization had hit him, his eyes sick and dark while the boys keep their eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash, guns still readily pointed at him.

“That’s right, you..you never stopped me so why is any of this my fault? Did you ever beg me to stop? Did you ever scream for help? Now that I think about it, you must’ve liked it, didn’t you? You enjoyed it just as much as I did. You never went to your father for help, you never told anyone anything about the situation. If you really hated it, you would have done something but you didn’t.”

Ah, he’s really doing this. Trying to twist the situation, trying to gaslight you, even though he knows he only chose you as a victim because you wouldn’t do anything to go against him.

A silent little doll who only listened to the words of her father. If your father tells you to fight back, you’d do it. And if your father tells you to endure it, you’d let others hurt you. Leehyun was just a coward who wanted someone who would listen to his words without fighting back and you were the victim he preyed on.

A silent doll whose voice box was broken, unable to scream for help. He used that to his disposal.

“No one would believe you,” you hear his voice echo repeatedly in your head, the same words coming in and out in every situation he placed you in. If you had emotions, if you wanted to scream for help, he’d remind you over and over again that he could just manipulate the situation into letting others believe you came onto him instead, that you were a dirty little slut who would go for anyone.

You never called for help.

You didn’t care to call for help because you didn’t know how to call for help.

In the moment when you’re with him, your body felt nothing, lifeless, a corpse of some sort, the socket of your eyes void of light as if you weren’t human at all. But even then you understood to some extent that Hyunjin would believe you. He was the only one who would believe you, were you to open your mouth and let the words ring out.

You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you, but you shared a connection with how powerless the both of you were against your fathers, both forced into a position that almost required you to fall bound into an engagement. 

Hyunjin always treated you kindly no matter what. He never forced you to do anything, never stopped looking out for you. Your suspicion of his kindness was confirmed when he moved away with his father, leaving the country for you.

If you knew how to speak then, you would have told him “thank you” and you would have accepted the kindness and warmth he always wanted to provide you with.

“When you decide to let your thorns be known to the world, I hope you can come after my father and kill him yourself. I will wait for you until then.”

He was kind to the end, prepared at any moment to kill his father for your sake, for his sake, for both your sakes.

As if understanding just how sick and manipulative his father is, Hyunjin steps up with fierce anger flashing in his eyes, ready to tear his father down. But you stop with a look, shaking your head, telling him in your silent manner that he doesn’t have to fight his father for your sake.

“Come on, Y/N,” Leehyun takes a step forward, approaching you as the others fit into a defending stance in an instant, watching him closely without doing anything unless you signaled otherwise.

This is your fight, you’ve told them, and they aren’t allowed to meddle unless you say so.

Leehyun holds a hand out to your face, his finger gently grazing against the skin of your cheek while you stand there, not doing anything.

“Be a good girl, won’t you? Tell your people to leave. We’re fine, aren’t we? If you’re unsatisfied with something, all you have to do is tell me and I’ll fix it. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. You’re my obedient little girl, aren’t you…princess?”

Princess.

As if on cue just by that small little nickname, your pupils dilate and something flashes before your eyes, the buried memories slowly but surely resurfacing back into your mind.

“Hello there. You’re very pretty, aren’t you?” An older gentleman who looks the same age as your father watches you with eyes that confuse you a bit. You don’t like it but who are you to act up?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang sir,” you bow your head before him in a respectful manner, polite and quiet.

“Yes…it is indeed.” He touches your hand in a gentle manner and brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back with eyes never leaving your face.

It’s weird. You feel strange.

Not the good kind of strange. Not at all.

“..Sir?”

“Keep calling me that,” he grins as he pats the top of your head with his other hand. “I quite like you calling me sir.”

“Sir,” you take a step back, retreating your hand, “your son and I–”

“No one has to know,” he says as he grabs your hand again with a little more force this time. The smile he gives you causes you to stare in slight horror, his words echoing in your head.

No one has to know.

No one has to know.

Who are you to refute that? Not when you’re taking a glance at your father and he does nothing to approach you from where he stands. You know he can see Leehyun and you know he knows what’s going on. 

He does nothing to move and tell you to get away from the man. Instead, he only looks away as if he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care one bit.

‘Endure it,’ you hear the words without it needing to be said aloud, so you turn back to Leehyun with obedient eyes, no longer trying to force your hand away, and letting him in.

If father doesn’t care, why should you?

“What a good girl you are. You’ll never do anything to go against me, will you?”

“Such a good little princess.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“If you tell anyone about this, no one will believe you, you know that?” Whether Hyunjin cares or not does not matter. Nothing matters.

Just endure it.

Endure it.

“Does your father even love you? That’s alright, I can share my love with you instead.”

“Do you let Hyunjin hold you like this too?”

“Hyunjin doesn’t hold me like this.” Hyunjin doesn’t dare to do anything to hurt you. Even then you aren’t sure how to trust him. He shows you goodness by not doing anything to you but how do you trust when trusting only leads to your break?

“Of course he doesn’t. If he does, you’ll let me know, right?”

“...Yes sir.”

Endure it. Obey his words. Keep quiet. Keep quiet.

Quietquietquiet.

“What a good girl.”

“Sir-”

“It’s alright, just a little longer.”

Stop.

Stop it.

Stop it all.

Something shakes your core, your stability, your foundation, and your emotions. And all of a sudden, you feel something you’ve never felt before. All the emotions spiraling into one single wave, rushing down your body, building up so strongly and forcibly you tremble on sight, knife stabbing into his skin without warning.

Leehyun shouts in pain at the sudden intrusive pierce and when his hand reaches out to force you away, you pin him down by the legs, ignoring the pain shooting up on one side as if possessed by some sort of demon.

The boys all watch in horror when you carve your knife into Leehyun’s skin like a force working on its own, eyes staring widely with sealed lips like a silent killer who holds no emotion for her victims as the knife goes in and out. In and out. In and out. 

And it isn’t you anymore.

It isn’t you.

Die die die die die! Your thoughts repeat over and over and over. You hear his scream loud and clear as your arms work the tool into his body, the blood oozing out and painting your cheeks, your dress, your thighs, everywhere. It’s like a scene straight out of a horror movie as the rest of them watch on, eyes widened in shock at the sight of your merciless self stabbing the man even as he no longer cries and lays on the floor, clearly already dead.

The guns point down, arms releasing tension on them but they can’t take their eyes off you.

You thought you’d kill him slowly and painfully, so he can feel every little pain with his eyes wide open. You thought you’d give him a slow death, one where he’d suffer the most in the same way he had hurt you and made you suffer and endure.

But your body acts impulsively as the memories resurface and all you can do is continue on the action until someone has to rip your arm away, forcing your body off the man with the knife thrown far away from your grasp.

“Y/N, stop.”

You push Hoseok’s hands away, head spinning, eyes falling into a blur and it seems as if everyone in this room is against you and is out to harm you. Your mind falls clouded as the world falls all at once, emotions becoming unstable and suddenly you know you’re panicking.

Tremblingtremblingtrembling.

Where’s Mingyu?

Yuna?

Where are the Reapers? Why aren’t they here?

It’s hard to breathe. Can you breathe? Ah, how do you breathe again?

The memories horrify you as they fall back vividly and suddenly you remember all the times when you were left tortured as a kid, screaming, looking around for help but no one makes a move. No one helps no matter how hard you cried and begged.

No one’s on your side.

No one’s on your side.

Endure it, they tell you. You have to endure it all and everything will be okay. You just have to…you just have to endure it.

“Y/N!” Someone grabs ahold of both your shoulders forcefully.

“Y/N!” Seokjin shouted, ripping you from your state of panic.

Seokjin, it’s Seokjin.

You’re safe with Seokjin.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he repeats in a soft, soft whisper. Enough for you to hear. “It’s alright, Y/N, you’re safe now. No one’s going to harm you, I’m right here. Breathe, just focus on breathing, don’t focus on anything else right now.”

Seokjin.

As your vision narrows in on him, his face clearer with each blink you make, you remember the familiar face of your eldest lover.

Seokjin’s safe…right? He loved you once.

He loved you once.

Ah, but he left you too, just like everyone else in your life. But you don’t really have a choice, do you? He’s the only one in your sight, the only one safe for now.

With trembling hands, you grab onto his white dress shirt, the blood on your hands dirtying it with red as you look up at him with pleading eyes, and two soft, barely audible words escape your lips.

“..Save me.”

Your eyes turn blank, dull, a void walking right in, and the shaking disappears as you stare at nothing before you, as if your soul has just been snatched away from your body, the light in your eyes no longer in sight.

“Y/N?” Seokjin calls your name cautiously but you don’t hear him. You can’t hear anyone, not even yourself as your body falls into a state of void.

The squelching of the mattress was uncomfortable, and you hated how each time you’d move a reminder of how much blood had spewed from your wound had seeped into the old fabric. Even though your tail was gone, there were moments you could feel the ghost of where it used to lay, aching even though it was no longer there. A dull pain from a limb that was no longer connected to your body. 

The old man had migrated from his own worn and torn bed, instead coming to sit beside you, lithe fingers slipping through the gaps in the bars to gently hold your own. A silent comfort, because the silence was enough. No words truly bringing either of you comfort, of the reassurance that you would be alive tomorrow or that you be able to laze in the sun or smell the sweet morning air on a spring day. Touch or hold those that meant the world to you, see them grow alongside yourself.

He understood how hard it must be for you, he himself had experienced the hell that the hybrid sector put people like himself through. He’d watched countless bodies being dragged through the door at the end of the hallway, occasionally the hybrid never making a return. And he never bothered to ask. Because sometimes it’s better to stay oblivious and not pry for an answer you know you won’t like, an answer you already know but refuse to acknowledge.

He doesn’t know how long they’d kept him here, but he supposes it didn’t really matter anymore. He guessed the rest of his days would be spent cooped up in a dingy cell in the basement of the hybrid sector. Each time they’d pulled his body from the safe confines of his cell he would wonder if that day would be his last. But it never had been.

And he thinks maybe the reason was this moment.

To watch the burning flames behind your eyes, a determination he hadn’t seen from the others that resided in the basement. You’d been treated inhumanely, stripped of something so precious and yet you still had that flicker of hope burning in your eyes.

He understood it was a little hard for you to stand, hands shaky and body in pain, weakened from the blood loss and lack of food. But he could see you trying to fight it. He watched as your chest rose and fell his heavy bursts, eyes trained on the grimy floor of his own cell. Locked up in your own small world.

He wonders what you think about, but never asks. The selfish part of him not wanting to know too much about you or your life. Not wanting to become too attached when both of your futures aren’t guaranteed. One day you could be dragged through the door, and he could never see you again. He’d lost one family he didn’t need to lose another.

“You should eat” he eventually speaks up, easily slipping his hand from your own as he hobbles over to the bowl beside his mattress. His breakfast left untouched.

You watch as he drops down in front of you again, skeletal hands slipping through the bars to nudge a spoonful of cold porridge to your lips. Your own bowl was left by the door to your cell, you hadn’t made the detour to pick it up when you’d moved earlier in the day and getting up seemed like an impossible task as you lay there. The very thought of standing too tiring.

Your lips part, the old man chuckling as you cringe at the stodgy mixture, texture a little too slimy for your liking.

“Mister” you tilt your head, eyes catching the old man’s who smiles down at you, a smile on his face.

He nods, letting you know he’s listening as he gathers up another hefty spoonful.

You clear your throat, “We’ll get out of here. I promise we’ll get out of here”

You watch his smile falter, and if you were a little more naïve then maybe you would have been fooled by the look in his eyes. One that wanted to appease you but knew secretly deep down that there was no escape. Kind eyes that didn’t want to discourage you, and strip you of the small sliver of hope you were clinging onto like a lifeline.

But you had hope.

Jungkook had said he would come for you, so you believe him.

Jin promised he would always be there for you, and you believed him. A small part of your mind knew that Jin would never leave you. He’d picked you up off the side of the road as a small child, grimy and starving. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t just leave you to rot alone inside a cage.

You’d done all you could, you’d made sure that their future was secured. And maybe in those fleeting moments during the prior nights when you’d first been thrown into the cell, or the day where they’d cut off your tail, your mind had been plagued with those same thoughts you’d had months ago, when thing weren’t as bright as they had been in recent weeks.

But you believed. You believed that the security your family now has will be enough of a push for them to come and save you.

The longer your thoughts were left to marinate, the more you’d come to realise that maybe this was karma. Karma from the day you’d threatened to cut Jimin’s tail off if he ever stabbed you in the back again.

You were joking obviously. A somewhat harmless threat to scare Jimin a bit. But clearly the universe had thought differently about your empty threat and now you were facing the consequences.

You wonder if Jimin remembers that day as vividly as you do. You remember being angry, but a little further down you felt a little bad you had gone as far as you had. You suppose Jimin wouldn’t still be with you if you had just let him roam free and take some of your things. Some nights you’d consider going to his room and asking if the life he had is one he really wanted, but the small selfish part of you never asked. Because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

You’d have to convince yourself this is definitely what he wanted. You’d given him the offer to leave that night and he hadn’t taken it.

+++

You’d dozed off at some point, your body trying its best not to regurgitate your slimy brunch.

You weren’t sure if it was specifically the porridge that had upset your stomach or just eating in general, your body having to digest the food taking up too much energy.

Breathing had become harder, and from the faint feeling of a cold hand being pressed across your forehead you suspected you had a fever. The old man muttering under his breath as he tries to figure out a way to reduce it. Annoyance laced in his features because he had nothing more than the clothes on his back and a bed. They hadn’t bothered to fill the dog bowl with water that morning, so he had no way of helping you.

Your eyes open groggily when the clank of the door at the other end of the hall opens, and you silently pray they stay on the far end of the room away from your cell. You weren’t sure you’d be able to take another round of testing right now, let alone being dragged down endless hallways. Your body was slowly reaching its limit and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold on. 

Although the thought was selfish, you hope that if they were coming to your end of the basement, it was because they were shoving another innocent soul into the cell adjacent from yours which had been empty since you’d arrived. Almost all the other cells filled with other hybrids.

You hear the old man shuffle beside you, and your hybrid ears twitch when a chorus of voices echo into the basement. Your fox ears press flat against your head to try and muffle the noise, eyes closing.

You want to laugh at how similar one of the voices sounds to Namjoon’s, your lips quirking as you try to imagine what he would say in a situation like this one.

You think he would panic a little, trying his best to keep it together for your sake because he wants to hold everyone together. But you’d see the way his brows quirk a little in worry. Or how his voice would drop an octave, a smooth lullaby that you’d come to love because Namjoon really did have a pretty voice. It was easy to listen to him read a book or just talk about his day of an evening, your muscles slowly turning to jelly as he gently scratches behind your hybrid ears, or his fingers card through your tails.

When the familiar sound of footsteps descend into the basement, you bite your lip as your hands move to cover your human ears. Breathing shallow as you curl in on yourself. Because the most logical thought in your brain was that; if you were smaller and quieter maybe they would walk right by you and leave you alone.

Your nose doesn’t pick up on the cologne you’d started to associate home with. Your sense of smell having been dulled down over the few days from the musty cell and the smell of bleach.

Namjoon doesn’t fully see your face, you’d tucked into yourself, but he knew it was you. He would always know it was you. He could lose multiple of his senses and he would still know it was you.

His eyes glaze over your body, curled up on the concrete floor. His eyes catch onto the pool of red, a smaller puddle under your tails where you’re laid. He swallows thickly at the state of the rest of the floor, mattress soaked in red, a small trail from the make-shift bed to where you were on the floor.

He fumbles with the keys, hands shaking as he curses. Because you were hurt and suddenly, he can’t remember which key unlock the door to your cell. Mind frazzled because you’re hurt.

You’re bleeding.

He uses the fact that he can see your chest raising and falling in jittery interval as enough proof that you were still alive, maybe just passed out, but still alive and somewhat okay. And if his hands and brain would co-operate then maybe he could get you out of this place sooner.

The sooner you were out of there, the sooner he can fix all the problems that have occurred over the last few days. He’d take you to a hybrid hospital, not caring if they were expensive, that was the last thought on his mind. What if he had shown up minutes later and you were at life’s end?

He drops the keys onto the floor accidently, and he pauses when you flinch back from the loud sound. He just watches you for a moment, a second feeling like a lifetime as he watches to make sure you’re okay. He hadn’t realised that he was holding his breath until he watched you let out a shaky exhale, his own lungs releasing a large puff of air.

Your eyes squeeze a little tighter, body curling in on itself a little more and Namjoon feels his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t mean to scare you.

He knew you were sensitive to sounds, how could he be so careless?

He makes eye contact with the old man who looks at him with what Namjoon can only describe as revulsion. But Namjoon can’t get mad. The evidence that all the hybrids being locked in the basement had been mistreated was proof that humans were probably one of the most selfish, bloodthirsty creatures on the food chain. Who only cared about themselves and their own pitiful lives.

He ignores the stares he gets from a few of the other hybrids, a lot of them having wandered over to the front of their cells at the sight of an unfamiliar human. A small sense of hope that maybe they would be free, that someone had finally heard their silent prayers.

Namjoon eventually calms his shaking hands down enough to unlock the cell door. He yanks it open, uncaring that his beige pants were getting grimy as he practically slides across the floor to your side.

“Small thing” he whispers, hands hovering over your body, unsure if he should hold you or not.

He didn’t know what had happened to you and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, both physically or mentally.

Namjoon takes a moment to really look over you, and he holds a hand over his mouth when he spots the focal point of your bleeding. His body hunches forward as a low sob wracks through his body, his eyes flitting over the rest of your body to check for any more damage. He shoves the palms of his hands into his eye-sockets. Your body looking like a swirl of red behind the veil of tears.

A pruned hand reaching for your ears catches his attention. Namjoon watches as the old man reaches through the bars, his lithe fingers smoothing your hybrid ears away from your head. And Namjoon would be worried that would hurt if he didn’t spot the old man’s own hybrid ears. He tries not to stare at the odd number of ears, the realisation that the ‘failed experiments’ were the ones being kept in the basement.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“Young miss, it seems a friend of yours has arrived” he whispers, cautious that you still may be startled.

Namjoon watches your eyes slowly open, squinting slightly at the florescent lights.

“Hey small thing” Namjoon whispers, watching as your hybrid ears twitch.

Your eyes meet his own, and he can’t help but cry in relief.

You lift a hand, beckoning Namjoon to come closer. Namjoon bends over your body, smiling as you wipe his cheeks, a relived smile on your face.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” he says, hands already moving to help you sit up.

However, his eyes widen when you push his hands away. The ghost of your touch stinging his hands from where you’d slapped him.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask, eyes frantically looking over the producer’s face.

“Outside, he’s waiting for us outside” he motions to the door at the end of the hallway. Voice steady but his eyes gave away the panic he was feeling.

Your nose twitches, trying to see if you could smell Jin.

Namjoon goes to help you up again but like before you just push his hands away. This time your push yourself to sit up, your tails laying limp on the floor beside you as you push your body away from Namjoon’s, head shaking frantically.

Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to argue you’re hurt, and he promises Jin was waiting upstairs for you, but you beat him to it.

“I won’t leave unless I know Jin is okay” you say, breaths becoming a little heavier from sitting up on your own. Your hands shakily moving to wipe your cheeks, skin soaking in your salty tears.

Namjoon worries you’re hyperventilating as you struggle to breath, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and help you.

His jaw clenches when you mutter out for Jin, begging Namjoon to see Jin. You needed to know if he was okay.

You know Namjoon wouldn’t lie.

But what if Jin wasn’t okay?

What if Jimin and Taehyung had been taken away too?

Namjoon swallows, taking a moment to look into your eyes, they flit down to your tails as well as the puddles of blood.

He nods, “Okay. I’ll bring Jin here” he slowly stands, eyes raking over your figure once more to check that you would be okay.

It’s when he sees your body shaking, barely holding yourself up that he turns, running down the hallway. Ignoring the angry shouts from the other hybrids that wanted their cages unlocked like yours.

+++

Jin almost stumbles down the stairs, muttering a quick thanks to Namjoon who grabs him by the back of the sweater before he can tumble down them.

He takes no notice of the other hybrids, his heightened sense of smell easily picking up your scent.

His eyes lock onto your figure through the bars of the old man’s cell, you legs tucked into your chest, head daintily resting on your knees.

He chokes on the thick smell of blood, freezing once he yanks open the door to the cell when he sees the state of the room.

You look up, bottom lip wobbling when you see him. Your eyes locking with his glassy ones.

Jin’s adams apple bobs when he swallows, hybrid ears picking up on your shallow breaths.

He stumbles forward, arms reaching out to hold your face as he drops to his knees in-front of you.

“Don’t cry” you whisper. Watching as his hands retreat from your cheeks to wipe his own.

When had he started crying?

Jin abandons wiping his cheeks when small pearly tears cascade down your face.

His eyes flit across your body, before taking a moment to just look into your eyes.

Namjoon watches from the other side of the cell as Jin hunches forward, his head falling to rest on your knees.

Your eyes widen when his body shakes, a loud sob wracking through his body. He reaches for your hands, resting by your sides.

Your hands squeeze his own, trying to pry his face from your legs. You’d never seen Jin so down.

Even the day your old owner had died, or the day he’d thought you’d ran away from home he’d shed a few tears in the silence of his room and them comfort you. You’d never seen Jin looking so… lost. Like he didn’t know what he was doing, unsure of his own feelings. So vulnerable that all he can do is hold onto you with all the strength he can muster. You don’t move as his hands squeeze yours, he squeezes them so tight that you worry the delicate bones in your hands would snap. Jin holding onto you like you would disappear if he let go.

You don’t register Namjoon shuffling from foot to the other on the other side of the cell, your focus trapped on Jin as he cries.

His shoulders shake, choking on his own sobs.

“I’m sorry” he cries, head lifting slightly to hold onto your upper arms, pulling you into his chest.

His head rests on top of your own, his shoulder still shaking as he runs a hand through your hair. Eyes screwed shut, trying his best to not let anymore tears fall.

He opens his eyes when he feels your own tears soak into his sweater and his breath hitches.

His eyes catch sight of your tail, and only then does he notice how your blood had started to soak into his trousers. He gently pushes you from his chest, looking down, his hand clamps over his mouth to mask his gasp at the crimson puddle.

His eyes trail back towards your tails, laying limply on the concrete.

You look up at the ceiling, hand coming to rest over your eyes as you take a long deep breath.

Jin’s fingers barely touch the bandage around the stump of your 9th tail, his mouth opening to let out his own shaky breath.

He ignores the sticky feeling of your blood on his hands as he rests his head on the concrete beside your chopped off tail. The rest of your tails-stained red laying flaccid around you.

Your eyes begin to hurt, you want to blame it on the lights on the ceiling as you stare up, but you know it’s because you’re scared. Eyes stinging as you swallow back a fresh wave of tears.

Jin doesn’t say anything, eyes squeezed shut as he sits up from the bowing position.

“Sunshine” he calls, voice wobbly, hands reaching to hold any part of you.

You look down, eyes empty as you stare at the red being smeared onto your arms. Jin’s hands frantically holding onto any part of skin he can find, a trail of red following each soft touch.

You look into his eyes as his hands finally find your cheeks. And you ignore the tacky feeling of blood being transferred onto your cheeks.

You don’t even get a proper look at his face before his lips brush against your own. And like second nature, your eyes shut, tension slowly slipping out of your body as his lips pillow your own.

Although not the most perfect kiss, a mix of salty tears, snotty noses and too much teeth neither of you pull away until you’re both gasping for air. Your eyes stay closed as he kisses over your red rimmed eyes, a soft kiss to your lips once more before he bends down.

Your eyes follow his movements, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his plush lips press against the stump of your tail through the loose bandages. He sucks in a shaky breath before he leans down and presses a firmer kiss this time. Still wary that you were likely in pain, but firm enough that you would be able to feel his kiss.

All he can think to do is kiss it better. Just like he would do to all the small cuts and scrapes you’d have over the years.

But he knows, he knows that this is far worse. But what more can he do? He can’t bring your tail back. He wishes he could.

So, he doesn’t say anything.

Because honestly, he doesn’t know what to say. For the first time ever, he has no comforting words for you. All he can do is hope that you can feel his love for you as his lips brush over your wounded tail. He knows you were never fond of them; you’d spend nights complaining as he would dry them, nights were he would whisper to you in the dark about how perfect you were and that any flaw you saw in yourself made him love you more. That having 8 more tails just meant more of you to love. A feature that made you stand out from everyone else.

He’d never told you but the first day he’d met you, it wasn’t your abundance of tails that caught his attention. It was your eyes.

While at the restaurant he remembers wondering how similar you must have looked to the day he had first met you. And the you from today has the same fire in her eyes as the you of the past.

The you from back then had been so small, a frail child that had the determination the size of the moon. So much hope and want in such a small body that Jin had been surprised. He’d begged his owner to help you.

He thinks that now you’ve grown, and as you’ve grown so has you will to survive.

But over the years your tails had become another of his favourite things about you. He hadn’t really been taken aback the first time he noticed them, him of the past thought they were pretty, they weren’t as fluffy as they were now, but now they were one of his favourite things about you.  

You watch as he sits up, back of his hand wiping the smeared blood from his lips.

You both just look at each other, no words needed to convey your feelings. You could both see the looks of relief dancing behind each other’s irises.

You felt your body finally relax, the tension of being scared, not knowing what would happen to you finally dissipating as reality sets in.

Your body felt light, knowing the freedom you’d been fight for, for years was in arms reach. Mere centimetres from your fingertips. You wouldn’t have to worry about being taken to a facility, nor would you be separated from Jin and sent to different homes. Where you’d never be able to touch each other ever again. You wouldn’t have to go to bed or wake up in the morning, wondering how much longer you really had together, or take anxiety educing trips outside with Jin’s fake ID, the fear of being caught following the two of you like a shadow. Or worrying every moment you were awake, scared that someone would show up at your door with a new set of laws that would ruin the rest of your life.

A smile quirks onto your lips, Jin’s own expression matching your own.

And you laugh, even as a sharp pain zips up your spine from the sudden movement; you laugh.

You laugh because you’re relieved. Years of build-up finally washing away, every waking moment filled with anxiety being blown away like dust in the wind.

Jin yelps when you slump forward, body finally resting. Any adrenaline that had been keeping you awake for possibly days at this point finally wearing thin. Your bones feel like lead, weighing you down; but you feel as light as a feather. The phantom pressure that had been holding you down for so long finally at peace.

You ignore Jin shouting at Namjoon, your mind unable to fully comprehend what they could be arguing about as your eyes close, a small smile of content on your lips as you finally slip into a peaceful sleep.

There was no doubt in your mind that you would have nightmares of these few days, the rough treatment and inhumane way you’d been treated not something you’d be able to forget.

Even as your body takes its time to fully shut down, you can feel the stinging of your wrists and ankles, rubbed raw from hand cuffs and chains, the phantom feeling of your tail pulsing dully even though it was gone, and the throb from the bruises that came from being grabbed so roughly, treated as nothing more than a cut of meat. Worth nothing more than what your body could give the few people that wanted to experiment on your kind, how the humans had fucked up their tests when making you and all the other poor hybrids that were locked in their cages.

But there’s no space for bad dreams as your mind focuses on Jin’s voice, Namjoon trying to calm the fox down as they both freak out, neither of them sure if you were okay or what they should do.

+++

Jungkook shoots up from the chair in the lobby area of the hybrid sector when the large metal door pushes open.

Taehyung follows soon after once they spot you in Jin’s arms, body lax and eyes closed.

Jungkook’s fingers gently push some hair out of your face, tears brimming his eyes as he looks at the state you were in.

Taehyung looks over at Namjoon who stands beside Jin, “She’s just passed out” he tells the wolf.

“Is she okay? She’s bleeding a lot” Jungkook asks, frantically looking at Jin to fix something.

“She’s not bleeding anymore Kookie” the old of the foxes reassures.

Jimin and Hoseok had slowly made their way over, Jimin biting his lip as he gets a glimpse at you. He buries his face in Taehyung’s back who reaches his hand behind his back to hold Jimin’s.

Hoseok, never one to like the sight of blood turns around. The wolf makes eye contact with Yoongi, the producer raising an eyebrow in question. Hoseok shakes his head, watching as Yoongi pushes himself from his chair.

Taehyung scoots himself and Jimin out of the way so the older of the two producers can get a good look at you. Yoongi blinks, his hand gently brushing over your cheeks. He feels a little relived when he can see the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

Namjoon places a heavy hand on Jimin’s shoulder when he notices the cat trying to quieten down his sobs. Taehyung’s hand only doing so much comfort.

Hoseok bites down on his fist, guilt trickling through his body. Ashamed he hadn’t done more to try and help you. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected to happen, but it wasn’t this. He should have stopped you the day he had said goodbye, maybe he should have been the one to stay by your side instead of Jungkook.

You’d done so much for each of them, he wishes he could turn back time and figure out a way to fix all that had gone wrong.

The wolf looks to his side when he feels a soft pat on his shoulder. Yoongi doesn’t look at him, which he appreciates, unsure if he could hold himself together if the older male were to peer into his soul. The thought of having to open his mouth to talk almost enough for a fresh ripple of pearly tears to travel down his face.

Yoongi looks out the large floor to ceiling windows, blue sky a little patronising for such a melancholy day. It felt a little too wrong for the sun to shine so brightly, the cliché trope of the sky turning grey, rain pelting like there is no tomorrow feeling more fitting for the situation.

“There’s not much we could have done. She’s stubborn and would have put you guys over herself no matter the outcome” he says, tone low.

They both bask in each other’s silence, watching as a bird flies by outside. Hoseok wonders if you’d feel as free as that bird does once you wake up. He wonders how long it’ll take for you to wake up, if you ever will wake up. He wonders if you were scared, if you missed him as much as he missed you, if he could take away your pain as easily as you had his.

“Everything will start to get better” Yoongi whispers, and Hoseok thinks that maybe Yoongi had similar thoughts to his own and this was his way of reassuring himself that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Taehyung’s head turns towards the other side of the lobby when another door is shoved open, four men dressed in police uniforms dragging Kim Dae-Hyun and Kim Seung by their arms through the lobby, both of them trying to pull their arms free.

Dae-Hyung was screaming something about a lawyer and Seung was trying to break free while reciting his human rights and how this was too much.

Before anyone can react, Jungkook is storming his way over towards to two of them.

Dae-Hyung snarls at him and Jungkook has to hold back a scoff at the irony of the situation. It was funny, how these two men who had little to no regard for hybrids, claiming they were feral animals, were actually the feral ones.

Jungkook ignore the snide comments the two men were making, the four policemen trying to hold them still. 

Jungkook smiles, and Seung is taken aback by how sadistic the smile is.

Hoseok flinches back at the sound of Jungkook’s fist colliding with Seung’s right cheek. The government official’s eyes widening in utter shock. The two policemen get a better grasp on him as he freezes before he’s looking at the two of them in disbelief.

“You can’t tolerate this behaviour” Seung seethes, and Jungkook can see the heat slowly raising as the man’s face reddens in a mix of embarrassment and rage, his cheek an even darker red. Jungkook thinks he can see a bruise starting to form.

“Jeon Jungkook” Jin shrieks, passing your lax body over to Namjoon who cringes as his clothes get bloody.

Jungkook looks between you and Jin, anger still bubbling through his veins as he sees the state you were in, the culprits behind this standing right before him, but Jin sounded pretty mad…

He swallows, eyes meeting the older fox’s.

A smile quirks onto Jin’s face, “There’s two of them you know” the fox motions to Dae-Hyung.

Said man’s eyes widening when he grasps the implications of Jin’s words.

Jungkook cracks his neck, turning towards Dae-Hyun with a shit-eating grin.

Jin winces when Jungkook’s fist collides with Dae-Hyun’s nose, a loud snap echoing through the lobby.

Taehyung can see the front-desk woman’s jaw drop as she watches blood gush from Dae-Hyun’s nose. Jungkook smiling proudly at Jin who gives him two big thumbs up.

Jungkook briefly turns towards the police officers, “Thank you for your service” he bows respectfully.

One of them snorts, “No problem kid, I would have done the same if these two had done what they did to the young lady, to either of my hybrids”

Jungkook smiles at him brightly, happy to know that not all humans were assholes.

Taehyung turns, looking down at you sadly, “Now I don’t feel bad we keyed their car” he sighs.

Yoongi turns towards him with a look of pure disbelief on his face, “You did what?”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly, cheek rubbing against the top of Yoongi’s head as he holds onto your hand tightly.

+++

“Hyung are you sure she’s, okay?” Jimin asks Jin, the younger’s hand squeezing Jin’s tightly as they sit in the hospital room.

Jimin knew you were alive, the beeping of the machines hooked up to your body were telling him so. The steady beating of your heart should be enough to tell him that you were okay, but he was still on edge.

When was the last time he gotten to give you a proper hug? Where you hugged him back and it wasn’t him sobbing into your chest as you lay motionless on the hospital bed. How long had it been since he’s gotten to look into your eyes, and just wander, his own thoughts mere whispers as he takes a moment to appreciate you. How long had it been since he’d cooked you a meal and you’d given him a soft kiss on the cheek in thanks? Or heard your pretty voice, or seen your bright smile?

When you woke up you were in the room alone.

It had taken minutes before you had fully comprehended that you were in hospital. The beeping machine merging with the beating of your heart, you hadn’t realised where you were until you looked down and had seen somewhat familiar hospital attire.

However, these weren’t stained in blood or vomit. They smelt clean and weren’t as rough as the ones you’d been given in the basement.

You wondered if you’d dreamt Namjoon and Jin coming to save you and that really, you’d been experimented on again and had just passed out, left alone in an infirmary because they’d fucked up an experiment again.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the door clicks open and Jimin scuttles in with a tired Jin close behind.

You’d pushed yourself out of bed, ready to leave the room when your eyes meet Jimin’s.

He blinks. Once and then twice. Before he’s barrelling towards you, Jin grabbing him by the waist before he can bulldoze into your side.

You look at him with wide eyes, worried as he starts to cry.

“Why are you crying?” you ask, smiling softly when Jin lets go of him and he makes his way over to you in a slower manner.

“Because… because” he wails, arms gently wrapping around your waist, scared you were still hurting.

Honestly you think the hospital must have pumped you full of pain killers because your body was feeling more numb than sore.

“Please don’t cry Mimi, I’m okay” you pat his back, remembering he wasn’t all that fond of his ears being scratched.

Jimin snivels as Jin tries to pry his arms from your waist, only letting go once you promise to sleep together once you’re discharged from the hospital.

He reluctantly sits down after he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Humming as he loses himself in the feeling of your lips pressed firmly against his own, a silent promise to each other that neither of you were going anywhere. A kiss so sweet and soft and so wholly you that Jimin was left in a daze as he watches you, a giddy smile on his face.  

Jin steps forwards, you notice his hesitance, how he fidgets with his fingers, eyes avoiding your own.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, anxiety clawing its way through your body.

“I’m sorry”

Your eyes widen, “Huh?”

“I’m sorry. None of this would have happened if I had just… I don’t know? Done more” he exhales, a sad smile on his face as he finally looks at you.

Your hands reach for Jin’s, using then as an anchor to pull him closer to your body.

You sit back on the bed, legs moments away from giving out on you, but you wrap your arms around Jin’s waist nonetheless, your face pushing itself into his stomach. 

“None of this is your fault Jin” you peer up at him, smiling when you feel a drop of water land on your cheek, Jin’s face turned to the side to hide his tears, “This is the least I could do to ensure our future”

+++

You’re slowly making your way through a pot of jelly when the door slams open, you flinch back, startled by the sudden action.

You watch Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung stalk across the room. The wolf yanking the cup of jelly from your light grasp as he slams it down on the table.

Then both of them flop by your sides. You groan, Taehyung’s whole-body weight too much pressure on your legs as the two of them try and squeeze to fit onto the small, single bed. Neither of them saying anything, simply sighing when they figure out a comfortable position. Both cautious about your tails that rest on a pillow.

Hoseok’s head peeks around the door frame, and he sighs when he sees the pile of people on the poor old bed that looked minutes away from breaking under the weight of three people.

Yoongi follows in after the older wolf, shaking his head as he sees the situation they’d put you in.

“Hey, you two, don’t put too much pressure on her body” he swats at their behinds, Taehyung whining in defiance as Hoseok tries to pull him off of you.

Once they’d pried the two puppies from the bed, Hoseok set a paper bag on your lap.

“Thought you might be hungry, so we brought lunch” he smiles, and you thank him.

“You two go and get drinks, there’s a vending machine in the lobby” Yoongi shoos the youngest two out of the room before turning to you.

He takes a seat beside the bed, grabbing the paper bag and depositing its contents into your lap.

“Jin hyung said it’s probably best to start small but greasy food can make anyone feel better” he explains, unwrapping one of the smaller burgers from the paper and handing it to you.

“Thank you” you smile at him softly.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, handing Hoseok some food as well.

“Relived. Maybe a little scared” you admit, teeth sinking into the soft bun.

“Scared?”

You hum, taking a moment to chew before you answered, “Scared that maybe this isn’t the end and I’m being too optimistic”

“Even if it isn’t, we’ll stay by your side” Hoseok speaks up, hesitant as he holds your hand.

You smile at that, “Hoseokie” you coo, watching his hybrid ears stand alert, “gimme a kiss” you lean forwards.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi, surprise evident on his face but he obliges, nonetheless.

Hoseok expects a kiss on the cheek, face heating up when your lips land softly on his own. His eyes shut, basking in the soft feeling of your lips pressed to his own, his tongue darts out to run along your bottom lip, humming when he can taste the sauce from your burger.

“See, you can relax now. I’m okay” you smile when the two of you pull back, happy he seemed a little less tense.

You and Yoongi spare him of the embarrassment, both of you pretending his cheeks weren’t doused in rosy, red blush.

You lean towards Yoongi when his hands raise to card through your hair, and you tease him a little by leaning forward to kiss the corner of his lips. He smiles at that, hand holding your jaw gently.

“May I?” he asks, worried he was overstepping his boundaries.

You nod, eyes shutting when his lips brush your own in a feather light kiss.

Yoongi pulls back, thumb brushing your cheek, “we have more time to explore” he hums when he sees the serene look on your face.

“Hey!” you jump when Jungkook shouts from the doorway, “Did you seriously make us leave so you could kiss without us” he gawks, an exaggerated expression on his face, and you would worry he was offended if it weren’t for the way his tail was wagging behind him. And he said he wasn’t just an overgrown dog.

“Can you believe they’re sharing first kisses without us?” the fox nudges Taehyung’s shoulder.

You and Taehyung make eye contact, a sheepish smile gracing your features when Jungkook looks between the two of you.

+++

“Thank you” you smile at Hyerin, a little mad that words didn’t feel like enough to properly thank her.

She shakes her head, helping you put your shoes on, ready to be discharged from the hospital.

She’d explained everything that had happened while you were in the basement of the hybrid sector. How Sora had trouble at first because Jimin and Taehyung’s names were under Jin’s fake ID, to them camping out at the restaurant just like you had planned. She explained that Dae-Hyun and Seung had been arrested. And you felt a small part of you relax at that, the tiny piece of you that continued to worry finally at peace now that they were being punished for what they had done.

The part of you that wanted them to suffer was mad that all they got was a couple of years in prison before they would be banned from any government job, you’d have preferred if their punishment was harsher, but hybrids had no say anything like that, it was a miracle that they had been arrested in the first place.

She explained that Sora had been a member of multiple hybrid activist groups and once she’d set up a petition to place a new law; that taking a hybrid that was already registered under someone else’s name was kidnapping and would have immediate consequences, the activist community had tried their hardest to gather enough votes that the government would have to do something about it.

People had camped outside government buildings in protest, and so the new law was passed almost instantly. The hybrid sector worrying that word would get out and make them look bad.

Hyerin had explained she’d quit her job before they could officially fire her, deciding she wanted to work back at a hybrid centre instead; that way she could try and change people’s views on hybrids first-hand instead of taking on the huge task of changing the world from one of the core problems. And she hoped the two of you could keep in touch, she’d love to go out for lunch some time.

You asked what had happened to the other hybrids as well, worried they were sent back to facilities in the suburbs, but she’d smiled.

“A few of them decided to start work, a lot of business owners in the hybrid district were more than happy to take them in. Oh! That reminds me” she perks up, shoving a hand in the pocket of her jeans.

You carefully take the small business card, messy handwriting sprawled on the back. 

“I’ll treat you to a nicer bowl of porridge next time we meet!”

You smile, turning the business card over, eyes widening when you notice the familiar logo of the restaurant Hoseok works at.

“An old guy asked me to give it to you, said he knew you but didn’t have any way to contact you” she informs, and you nod, smiling because you knew exactly who this was from.

You shove the small piece of card into the front of Jungkook’s hoodie when you hear the door click open.

“Ready to go home?” Jin asks you, smiling politely at Hyerin.

You spot the rest of your family crowding the narrow hospital hallway, each of them smiling at you brightly as they squeeze into the space of the door.

“Yeah” you nod, smiling equally as bright. Thanking Namjoon once he squeezes his way into the room, effortlessly picking you up from the bed.

You poke one of his dimples, heart skipping a beat when you feel his deep chuckle reverberate from his chest. He tilts his face down, easily pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, and you feel your face heat up.

You press your ear to his heart, the steady beating reassuring you that this wasn’t a dream.

Jungkook avoided you like the plague at first. He didn't know what to say to you, but you both bonded over gaming. His hyungs didn't quite understand how much he liked them, playing with him when he wanted but not loving it as much. But it was like you and him spoke another language, one he didn't think anyone else would ever understand.

This, however, was entirely different.

This morning when he woke up, he noticed a couple people gone from the bed. He didn't think much of it, usually waking up later than everyone else. He stumbled to the bathroom having to pee and tried to open the door. Locked, he realized, jiggling the knob. He pounded on the door. "Hyung, hurry up, I gotta pee."

The door opened and Namjoon stood there looking tired and stressed. "Jungkook, go use one of the other bathrooms okay? Jin is--"

The sound of someone retching interrupted his sentence. "Sick." Namjoon finished, looking back at the figure hunched over the toilet. Jin was curled into a ball on the floor, looking pale and weak.

"It's fine, I'm fine, I must've just--" a gag interrupted his sentence, "eaten something weird." He tried to explain away the sickness, but it was obvious there was something wrong.

"Hyung, you look terrible." Jungkook said instead, pointing out bags under the man eyes and sweat dripping down his forehead.

Jin glared at him. "Go away, you brat." He growled.

Namjoon shrugged tiredly and closed the door, back to worrying over Jin. Jungkook walked out the room down the hall to the nearest bathroom. Locked. He pounded on the door.

"Jungkook, go away!" Jimin's voice came through the door. Jungkook threw up his hands, walking away. Where's a man gotta go to pee in this place?

He turned around walking past the bedroom again to the next nearest bathroom. "Kook?" Hoseok called out from inside, stopping him. The man walked out, hair sticking up from sleep. "Why're you up so early?"

"Jin and Jimin are sick, I guess. They're hogging the bathrooms." He huffed and crossed his arms. This morning was already weird and he had just woken up.

Hoseok rubbed at his eyes, entering the hallway. "Mm, Jimin I expected, but Jin? I didn't know he was feeling sick."

"He's not the only one." Another voice inside the bedroom said.

Jungkook pushed the door open wider to survey the whole bedroom from the hall. Jin and Namjoon were out the bathroom now, Namjoon holding Jin up as he led him to the bed. Taehyung was in bed, clutching at his stomach, and Yoongi looked pale and sweaty but was shivering like he was cold.

The bathroom door down the hall opened, Jimin stumbling out. "I feel like something crawled inside me and died." He pushed past Jungkook and Hoseok and made his way to the bed, collapsing next to Taehyung.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. "Are you all sick? What happened?"

Namjoon ran his hand through his hair, thinking about what could've caused all this. "It must be some kind of stomach virus. But where did it come from? Who's been feeling sick the longest?"

"I felt fine yesterday. Was it Jimin? Did you go somewhere?" Taehyung asked.

He shook his head, laying on his stomach and clutching a pillow. "My stomach just started hurting really bad yesterday."

"I've... been feeling bad since a couple days ago..." Jin admitted sheepishly.

"You did this to me." Yoongi growled weakly, trying to sit up.

"Now, now, let's not point fingers." Hoseok held his hands out, trying to mitigate the situation.

Soft, padded footsteps sounded behind Jungkook in the hall. Your sleep shirt hung off one shoulder revealing more of your soft skin and your pajama pants pooled around your feet, your messy hair brushing against your shoulders. You looked positively sleepy and soft, like a cuddly stuffed animal. "What's going on?" You asked, your soft voice a little hoarse from just waking up. You came up behind Jungkook, leaning against him a little as you looked into the room. Your hair was falling over your face and he moved it out the way gently. "Jin, Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi are sick." He explained, watching your pretty eyes droop in sadness.

"Oh no, all of you?" You frowned in concern.

Namjoon sighed, "I'll have to call into work and tell them I can't come in the next few days."

"No way, you have so much to do, pushing it back that much will only make it harder for you to catch up later." Hoseok argued, dismissing his statement immediately. "I'll stay."

"No, no, neither of you should stay. I don't even have work today, I'll stay and take care of them." Jungkook said, shaking his head.

"You can't take care of four sick people on your own." Namjoon frowned.

"I can help." You piped up, gathering everyone's attention. "Since Jin's sick you're gonna need help cooking food that they can eat with an upset stomach, and my mom has the best soup recipe." You smiled sweetly and Jungkook sighed in relief, grateful.

"That would be great. So it's settled, me and Y/n are gonna stay and the rest of you are gonna get ready for work."

"At this rate we'll be running late already." Namjoon and Hoseok made a move for the closet, getting their clothes and getting ready.

"I can make you breakfast?" You suggested.

"No, don't hurry yourself, focus on them." Hoseok smiled kindly at you walking past you to another bathroom. Jungkook watched as they hurried around, and you pulled your phone out to call your mom for that recipe.

"Make sure you both wash your hands while helping them, no need to for you two to get sick too. It might be best to keep them all in separate rooms, if they're at different stages of sickness they might reinfect each other, so--"

Namjoon was pulling on a suit jacket while speaking, having a business meeting today with a board of investors. "Joon, please, don't worry about us." Jungkook calmed the stressed man down. "We've got this, go work."

He sighed, but conceded and went out the door with Hoseok, letting you and Jungkook take care of everything. He shut the door behind them and walked into the kitchen where you had a phone pressed to your ear and were pulling ingredients out to make soup.

"We don't have rosemary, can I use parsley?" You were holding an empty container of spice in one hand and a half full container of parsley in the other.

"Is that your mom?" Jungkook murmured, stepping up next to you.

"Who's that? Are you with a guy right now?" You mom said on the phone, her voice turning teasing.

"No, Mom, it's just Jungkook."

"Who's Jungkook?" She asked suspiciously.

Jungkook acted hurt. "Y/n, you haven't told your parents about us?"

"Oh stop it." You swatted at his hand making him laugh. "Mom, what else do I do?" You said going back to your conversation.

"Just boil the chicken with the noodles and don't use too many spices! The spices will upset their stomachs but salt should help with the nausea. Give them a bit of bread beforehand if their stomachs feel too queasy. How many men are in this house with you again?" Your mom's voice came through the speaker tinny and quiet and Jungkook had to strain to hear it.

"I'm just helping a friend."

"Right, right. What happened to that lovely boyfriend of yours?"

"Oh, we broke up. He... had to move, and you know how I feel about long distance." Jungkook tilted his head. He didn't know that's why you and your boyfriend broke up. He supposed it made sense but something told him it wasn't the whole story.

"Okay, thanks momma."

"Tell your new boyfriend I said hi!"

"Goodbye, mom."

You hung up, ignoring Jungkook's smug look. "I think she likes me." He said proudly.

"She doesn't even know what you look like." You shook your head, pulling out pots and pans.

"Did you not tell her you live with us now?"

"I don't want her to worry. If she knew half of what was going on in my life, she'd fly me to Korea."

"Do you not like it there?" His question made you stop for a moment, pausing your actions to answer him.

"I do, I just... I want my own life."

Jungkook nodded. He could understand that. He had tattoos and piercings and a workout routine because of that. "Do you need help making the soup?"

"No, no, you should go and make sure they're not sweating all over each other up there." You chuckled, nudging him out the kitchen.

Jungkook laughed, heading up the stairs. It took a bit of work, wrangling them all into separate rooms but he managed, opting to just carry them after walking them out proved to slow for him. Good thing he's been working out. He made sure to leave all their room doors open just a tad, and opened their windows for some fresh air. He put them in all the rooms they had with en suites so they'd all have a personal bathroom.

This would be easy peasy.

It was, however, immediately proven not easy peasy.

Being sick makes a person really whiny, Jungkook realized, because suddenly everyone had demands. Yoongi wanted his pillow extra fluffy, Jimin needed to be moved between the bed and the bathroom every two seconds, and Jungkook could hear Jin talking your ear off about the things you should add to the soup on the other room. He didn't know if there was such a thing as a backseat chef, but if there was Jin would be one.

"My foot's itchy, Kook."

"You still have hands Taehyung, scratch it yourself." Jungkook said, tucking the covers around him.

"But I'm too sick." He fake coughed.

"Having a stomach virus doesn't make you cough, Taehyung."

You opened the door a little, your head peeking in and setting a tray of soup on the dresser. "I have soup."

"Soup!" Taehyung cheered, sitting up perfectly fine for someone who claimed they were too sick to scratch their toe earlier.

You giggled, passing the bowl to him slowly. "Do you think you can feed yourself?"

"No," Taehyung said, flopping back into the mattress. "I'm too sick."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "I'll go bring everyone else their soup."

"Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled sweetly at him as he took the tray of bowls of the dresser and walked towards the door. Taehyung fake coughed to get your attention and you fell for his ruse, cooing at him and bringing the spoon to his mouth. Rolling his eyes at the smug look Taehyung tossed him, Jungkook closed the door behind him.

Over the course of the next few hours the day was pretty much uneventful. You had gone into Jin's room to bring him his food at one point, getting caught up in a conversation about the perfect spice ratio and how to season meals for certain tastes.

"Ah, you really outdid yourself with this soup. It's a little bland, but it hits the spot." He said, slurping down the soup. He was surprisingly chatty for someone that was bending over a toilet bowl this morning.

"It's supposed to be bland as to not upset your stomach. The salt is for flavor and to help with nausea. My mom gave me the recipe." You explained sitting in a chair by his bedside.

"That's genius. If she's where you got all your cooking skills from, I'll have to personally thank her someday." He joked, handing the empty bowl back to you. "We should plan a feast for after this is all over. Cook a table full of dishes full of spice and flavor."

"You mean like we do every night?"

"No, bigger, better! Every dish cooked to perfection." He threw his hands up to emphasize the scale of this supposed feast.

"Sure, Jin. Let's do that." You made to stand, going to being the bowl to the kitchen when Jin grabbed your arm.

"Stay with me a while, yeah? I don't know whose idea it was to keep us all couped in rooms by ourselves." He smiled, but you noticed there was a bitter edge to it.

"Aw, Jin, are you lonely?" You teased, trying to cheer him up, going to pinch his cheek.

"No, no, I just..." he sighed, all the humor melting from his face. "I feel bad. I didn't think I had a stomach bug, if I had known..."

"Hey. It's okay, we all get sick sometimes." You squeezed his hand in both of yours, soothing him.

"I know, I just, I was trying to ignore it, but it just kept getting worse."

"Why would you ignore a sickness?"

He looked at you, gnawing on his lip. "I guess, some part of me still expects everyone to rely on me. When we all met, everyone thought I was this strong, charismatic person they could always go to for help, and now I feel like... they don't need me anymore."

"Jin, that's..." you floundered for a bit, the weight of that statement being too heavy for you to help. You sat up in your chair and making sure he looked you in the eyes. "If you're feeling that way you should tell them."

"I know, I know, but it's stupid. It's completely irrational and I don't have any reason to feel this way but I do, and I feel like if I told them, they'd feel bad and then. I'd be holding them back."

"You're in a relationship Jin, they're supposed to care how you feel." The 'duh' in your sentence went unsaid, but it carried through all the same.

"Even if the feeling is stupid?" He smiled again, a bit embarrassed.

"Especially if it's stupid. Because those are the ones you can work through together."

He nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "Gee, look at me getting relationship advice from someone younger than me. I must be doing something wrong."

"Nope. You're being honest about your emotions and that's never wrong."

"Yeah. As long as we're being honest, let's talk about you."

"I think I hear Jungkook calling me." You stood up from your seat, hurrying out the room.

"Y/n!" Jin called after you, laughter impeding his shout. You sped down the hall giggling when someone else called out to you.

"Y/n." It was Yoongi this time and you stopped to peek inside his room.

"Yes, Yoongi?"

"Can you come in and fluff my pillow? My back hurts." He slurred, clearly on the verge of sleep. You smiled and walked in, fluffing it up until he said it was okay.

"Can you bring me some soup please?" He asked, eyes closed already.

"Okay."

It was hardest getting Yoongi to eat. Jin and Taehyung were better off, talking and moving freely enough with their stomach acting up only a bit throughout the day-- although Taehyung definitely wasn't quite in his right mind, whiny and clingy-- while Yoongi and Jimin were pretty much bedridden. Yoongi especially had looked like death and slept through most of the day. He had been affected more by the fever symptoms than the stomach problems and had sweat through the sheets by lunchtime.

You came back with the soup and he woke up to slurp it down, having the strength to feed himself now.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I think the sleep helped." He handed back the bowl. "How's your day been running around taking care of us?"

"Oh, like a dream." You commented sarcastically.

"Don't make me laugh." He rolled his eyes.

"It hasn't been that bad," you admitted. "I mean you've been basically passed out, Jin is coherent enough to make casual conversation, the only person who has been a bit of a handful for me is Taehyung, but that's only because he's been begging for cuddles."

"Have you given him any?"

"No, he's so sweaty," you laughed. "And I don't wanna catch anything by getting too close. I let him hold my hand though."

"Mm," Yoongi hummed. "So I guess the best I can get is hand holding, too?"

You blinked in surprise. "You wanna hold my hand?"

He answered by reaching out blindly for your hand, eyes closed now. "I guess the maknaes have been rubbing off on me. Will you stay until I fall asleep?" He said, squeezing your hand lightly.

"Sure." Dazed, you replied, watching as he got comfy.

"Thanks," he slurred, falling asleep again. "You're so sweet, kitten."

"Kitten?"

"Mm. 'Cause you're shy like one. 'N cute like one, too."

You didn't know what to say to that one but you didn't have to, a snore coming from him a second later.

You slowly slipped your hand from his, and slinked into the hall quietly. Jungkook was standing out there, coming out of Jimin's room.

"How is he?" You asked, gesturing to his door.

"Good. Been throwing up more than the others though."

"Yeah, it seems like they've all got different symptoms."

You conversed about your days, moving around parallel to each other, but not quite with each other. He told you about a funny thing Jin said and you told him about how Taehyung wouldn't stop clinging to your hand, trying to cuddle with it like a teddy bear. You had to promise him a boatload of cuddles by now, using it as a bargaining chip each time you had to leave his room.

"I'm so glad you're helping me out." He sighed as you both settled down at the kitchen counter.

"Of course, I couldn't imagine trying to help and feed four different people at the same time by yourself."

"Yeah."

It was a bit awkward somehow, staring at each other in the silence usually filled by the messiness of dinnertime or with the background noise of a video game or YouTube video.

Well, not staring. You seemed to hate eye contact. And Jungkook has always been too shy to look girls in the eyes. Which was a shame really, your eyes were gorgeous, the honey brown shining even in the dim lighting of the kitchen bulb they keep forgetting to replace.

He bet if they told you, you'd remember to pick some light bulbs up the next time you go shopping with Jin, you remember everything about them it seems. Their favorite foods, the way they fold their clothes, the groceries that ran out and need to be rebought. Jungkook wonders if you're naturally this observant and caring or if you just like them.

He hopes its the latter.

The way you quietly show you care about them, it drives him crazy for some reason. You volunteering to help him this morning was so sweet to him. You could've just stayed in your room, but you wanted to help. Jungkook's used to being youngest. He's never particularly had to take care of anyone and he's never really wanted to. His parents babied him and his hyungs spoiled him.

And he was fine with it. It was a little frustrating at times, feeling like they didn't take him seriously or didn't see him as mature, but they talked that out, and he's become his own person now, the piercings and tattoos to prove it.

But you, so soft, so small somehow, even though you weren't exactly tiny. Just something about the way you were made Jungkook want to wrap you in a blanket and protect you.

Care for you.

You sighed, the curl hanging over your face fluttering. "I know everyone else is eating soup but do we really have to?" Your pout was all it took to convince Jungkook.

"Honestly, I'm not really in the mood for soup right now. We could probably call Namjoon, get him to pick some takeout up on his way home?" He picked up his phone, ready to call.

"Oh, I was thinking we could probably just cook something?" You covered his hand with yours, pushing his phone back down to the counter.

"There's no point cooking when only half the people in the house are gonna eat. Besides, you've been cooking all day, and I'm hungry." Jungkook shook your hands away. "Thai or Chinese?"

You sighed. If he was going to order anyways, then you couldn't put up a fight. "Whatever you like." You shrugged.

Jungkook looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Oh no, no, no. Tell me what you want."

"I'm fine with anything." You shrugged again, more dramatically.

"Then I guess I just won't order." He placed his phone back down and crossing his arms, challenging you.

"Fine by me." You refused to budge, crossing your arms as well with a smile on your face.

He shook his head. "You're impossible, you know that?" You watched a strange look cross his eyes, a glint you didn't recognize as his gaze darkened, moving towards you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, leaning back in your chair. He caged you in between him and the counter and looked directly into your eyes. He held your chin up with his hand when you tried to look away.

"I'm going to ask you one more time what you wanna eat and you're gonna answer me, okay?" He spoke slowly yet sternly and you nodded, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Good. Now what do you want to eat?"

"P-pad thai." You mumbled, taken off guard. He moved back, smiling.

"There you go, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He picked up his phone and called Namjoon, while you sat there reeling from whatever that was.

"Jungkook, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, hyung, are you coming home soon?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving to pick up Hobi and head back in ten minutes, why?"

"We were wondering if you could pick up takeout on your way home. Y/nie wants Pad Thai, and you can get my usual."

"Got it, see you soon."

"See you." He hung up and turned to you, still stunned into silence, a cute clueless look on your face. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"...Sure."

The next few days carried on like that, you taking care of the boys and at the end of the day Namjoon and Hoseok would come with take out and go see how the boys were doing in their rooms.

You generally avoided taking care of Jimin. You didn't need to say anything, Jungkook just immediately went to take care of it, but at some point when you were both frazzled with requests, he asked you a favor in the hall.

"Hey, Jin needs help but Jimin was calling for me earlier, could you go and check on him for me please?" He ran a hand through his hair, shirt rumpled and hair sticking out of place.

"Of course, go do what you need to do, I've got it." You agreed, not looking much better. You had the sleeves of your sweatshirt bunched up at your elbows, a stain on your shirt from when Taehyung fell asleep when you were feeding him soup and accidentally launched the spoon back at you. You headed into the room Jimin was staying in.

"Jungkook!" Jimin was calling weakly as you entered the room. He was struggling to get up from his bed.

"I'm here, Jimin, Jungkook has to help Jin." You moved towards him, arms outstretched to help him.

"Ugh, forget it then." He swatted your hands away, panting heavily with the exertion.

"Just let me help you--"

"It's fine, I don't want you touching me--" he gagged. "I need to get to the bathroom."

He pushed himself off the bed, pushing past you and stumbling into the en suite.

"Are you okay, is there anything else I can do?" You rushed after him, watching him tire himself out and wanting to help.

"I'm too sick to deal with you right now, just go!" He snapped, voice hoarse as he slumped in front of the toilet.

"What do you mean? What did even I do? You need help, are you sure I shouldn't at least stay until you're finished--"

"I don't ne-need your help!" Jimin gasped out, feeling his stomach churn, both from the sickness and the conversation. "And I don't need your pity."

"Jimin, I'm just trying to help! I don't know what you want me to do--" you pleaded, still approaching him until he growled, turning to you.

"Why don't you go back to being little miss perfect and leave me alone!" He glared at you, icy even with the weakness in his body, grabbing a towel off the sink counter and throwing it at your feet. He turned back to the toilet, dismissing you.

His words just confused you and you sighed, shaking your head. If you couldn't get through to him, there was no point in standing here. "I'll... I'll make sure Jungkook helps you from now on. I'll go." You walked out.

Jungkook was just coming out of Jin's room, stopping at your sudden exit. "Is he okay?" He asked.

"I don't know, he wouldn't let me help him." You crossed your arms sulkily.

Jungkook studied you for a moment, probably seeing the confusion on your face, and deciding not to ask any further. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'll go talk to him."

He slipped past you into Jimin's room and you sighed. You really thought you and Jimin were getting somewhere but you guess not. Maybe you two were too different to get along. As long as Jimin refuses to try, you can't get through to him.

Jungkook entered Jimin's room, finding him in the bathroom, emptying his stomach's contents. He crouched down and rubbed his back. "Hyung, what's going on? What did you say to Y/nie?"

Jungkook could practically hear Jimin's eye roll. "Does it matter? I'm literally --" he heaved. "'--throwing up right now!"

"Jimin, you can't keep being mean to her. I love you, but don't you think you're going about this the wrong way? You know she's not here to--"

"I know, Jungkook! She's perfect and great and I should immediately trust her. But I can't! I'm trying but I just can't understand why we need someone else in our lives right now. Are we not enough anymore?" Jimin was shouting before, but he was just exhausted now. He wiped his mouth with a piece of toilet paper, flushing it and his stomach contents down, closing the lid. He pulled away from the toilet and sat back on his knees, stomach empty. Why couldn't he just relax around you like everyone else?

Jungkook sighed, sitting back as well, legs splayed out on the floor. If Jimin needed some extra love, he would give it to him. "Jimin, come here," Jungkook pulled him into a hug.

"Aren't you worried about getting sick?" Jimin said, resisting his pull.

"I'll be fine. It's not more important than making sure you understand that I love you and I care about you. And I can't imagine how much this is affecting you." Jungkook wiped a tear that appeared on Jimin's face. He smiled softly. "As much as you like to pretend, I know you don't actually like being mean. So what's wrong? Really wrong?"

"Would you believe if I said I didn't know? Something in me is just so... threatened by her." Jimin sighed, leaning fully into Jungkook. "And I know she's not here to mess with us, but she could! She's sweet and easy to get along with, and everything I'm not. And what if she's just like the others?"

"No one's comparing you two, Jimin. All you're doing is making yourself suffer in the meantime. And if she is like the others, we'll deal with it like we always do. But you have to say when you're uncomfortable."

"But what if you end up liking her? I can already see it happening." He pushed away from Jungkook's chest. Jungkook internally rolled his eyes, immediately pulling him back down, not letting him pull away from comfort.

"Nothing will happen until we talk about it first. We promised each other loyalty, remember?" He squeezed him even closer. He wouldn't let Jimin suffer alone anymore. "You aren't alone in this. Just tell her how you feel instead of lashing out at her. Healthy communication, remember?"

Jimin groaned. "I know, I know. You know, I remember when we used to ask you to communicate your feelings and you'd either break down crying or punch us."

"Yeah, let's not talk about that."

Outside, you went through the rest of the day, noticeably quieter and tried to forget about everything, like you always did.

The next day, however, Jungkook stopped you as you were heading to Taehyung's room to help him.

"Hey, I got this one. Can you go help Jimin though? He needed something earlier." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards Jimin's room behind him.

"Jungkook, I don't think--"

"No, Y/n. You really should go help him." He looked at you pointedly as if trying to convey something with his eyes and you sighed, conceding, deciding to just go with it.

You went into Jimin's room and saw him sitting up against the pillows in his bed, twiddling his fingers nervously. The curtains were pulled aside to let sun in, wind blowing them gently. It was the perfect day outside, contrasting with the anxious mood surrounding Jimin.

"Hi." You said, still by the door. He looked up at you, surprised, not having noticed you came in initially.

"Hey." He replied with forced calm.

You stood there, staring at each other in silence, then suddenly he drew in a big breath of air.

"I'm sorry. For yelling at you yesterday." He admitted, a bit hesitantly.

Your eyes widened and he continued. "I've had a lot of time to think, and..." he trailed off, looking away, twisting a ring on his finger. "I realized I wasn't giving you a chance, and I should put in effort. I was feeling horrible yesterday and I lashed out. But my head is clearer now, and... I regret it."

You blinked, taking it all in. His apology sounded practiced but still sincere. He really thought about and meant everything he had said to you. And it was the first real apology you had heard from him.

You couldn't resist teasing him though, a sly smile on your lips before you could even stop yourself. "Did Jungkook tell you to say all that?" You teased, walking closer to his bedside.

"Oh, come on, I came up with that all on my own! I did ask him for a bit of help though." He mumbled, fidgeting with the sheets on the bed.

You smiled, done teasing. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have left you alone when you were sick, especially after I promised to help everyone-"

"No, I yelled at you to leave and honestly if you hadn't, I might've said something worse. I'm not sure if you've realized this, but I have a temper." Jimin looked at you earnestly and you realized he was being serious.

"Yeah, no, I realized." You replied dryly.

"And I feel much calmer now that I'm not hovering over a toilet." He glanced away, a bit embarrassed. "Enough that I realize that you were only trying to help. You're... not as bad as I thought, and I guess I could let up... a little."

"Yeah. You were really rude." You nodded, rubbing his face in it more.

"Oh, come on," He whined again, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"And I might never forgive you." You continued, crossing your legs in your chair.

"Now you're being dramatic." He groaned. "You've been hanging out with Jin hyung too much." You cracked a smile at that.

"Seriously though. Why did you hate me so much? I didn't do anything... did I?" Your voice got small at the thought that you've inadvertently done something to make him upset.

He gazed at you, contemplating. "I didn't hate you, I just... I guess I was a little worried. Honestly, I still am. I can't promise I'll come around immediately, but I'll be... less prickly. If I can help it."

"I'll take it." You rolled your eyes, sinking into the chair by his bedside in exhausted relief. Jimin hadn't realized how comforting your presence was, your smile, directed at him and warming the chills from his fever from the inside out. "Are we good now? For real? I just don't want to argue with you anymore." You asked and Jimin started to feel bad for putting you through all this.

"Yes, I'm done fighting, too. This has all been so tiring." Jimin sighed, brows furrowed in regret. His attitude was self destructive, being mean to others and on edge all the time took a toll on him too.

"If we pretend this never happened it'll be that highlight of my year." You chuckled, the relief rushing though you as you melt into your chair even more. Jimin looked closely at you, the bags under your eyes from taking care of them at all hours, the wrinkles in your clothes. You were really working hard for them. Just because you cared. You were weird, Jimin reasoned.

"Agreed." He responded after a moment, probably looking just as exhausted as you.

"Friends?" You held up a loose fist and he looked at it, hesitating, than bumped it with his own.

"Friends."

Now you had one less problem on your back. You smiled, and for once, you got a genuine smile from Jimin back.

---

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, not exactly expecting you to call your own father’s funeral a debut show for the underworld but what was he expecting when you killed your father with your very own hands?

News not many mafiosos in the room have knowledge of just yet.

He doesn’t like this as he finally makes light of one of his lovers, Seokjin, before finding the rest of them standing relatively close to one another. He takes the last spot beside them, brows still furrowed and waiting for your arrival.

He wishes this will end as soon as possible as he catches sight of Hoseok who stands two people away from him.

Hoseok is silent, eyes unwavering without the slightest hint of emotions on his face despite all the rumors and words leaving many lips in the room. Namjoon himself is questioned on his opinion, being one of the Reaper’s allies, though he refuses to comment much on it.

Yoongi and Taehyung both look bored. Jimin doesn’t want to be here. Seokjin can’t wait for your arrival so this so called party can end. And Hoseok is emotionless.

The youngest of the group wonders what is going on in his head. After all, ten years ago when things were falling apart with you, he had been the last to accept your leaving. And perhaps Hoseok never did come to terms with it, perhaps he still hurts, unsure of what to do in this dilemma now that you’re back, and Jungkook wonders how Hoseok is feeling through all of this.

He can feel his heart falling a little for his lover, eyes moving to the floor of the room when he knows he can’t take staring at Hoseok’s expressionless face any longer.

Hoseok held onto you when you decided to leave and for a while nothing but anger and pain filled his eyes whenever he looked at them. At him. It took some time for Hoseok to finally accept your absence and Jungkook never wants to go through the idea of his hyung hating him ever again. But now that you’re back in the picture, what does this all mean for them?

For Hoseok?

Jungkook doesn’t want to think about it.

He’s running away again, he knows, but…what else can he do? A small glance Namjoon’s way is all he can do.

The leader of Bangtan stands tall, eyes as cold and as intimidating as ever. His brows are creased even tighter today, refusing to answer anything anyone asks him about the mysterious daughter of the Reaper.

“Did you know she existed?”

“I do not know her,” is all he says.

Because it’s the truth.

Once upon a time the eight of you lived a life filled with soft smiles and sweet laughter. That story ended ten years ago when you pulled your ring off your finger, deciding to end all your ties with them. It was you who suggested never to meet ever again, promising to never utter a word about Bangtan to anyone, including your father.

It was you who made the rules of the contract, sitting across from him in the dim lit room ten years ago, looking as if you were barely holding on but still having enough strength to speak to him through the paper contract.

You wanted no relations with him no longer, the pen trembling in your hand when you reached to sign your name before the bottom line.

Still, despite the ache in your heart, the eyes that refused to meet his one last time, Namjoon remembered the last moment he had with you so well. It’s been engraved in his mind so well no matter how much he’s tried to get rid of it.

You bit onto your trembling lip, fingernails digging into the skin of your thigh as you sat in there in his office, head lowered, holding onto your sniffles as the tears cascaded from your closed eyes.

“Thank you, Namjoon. You were a wonderful husband.” The very last words you uttered to him, chin tilted upwards as your eyes remained closed, the corners of your lips barely holding onto the string when it tugged into a beautiful, painful smile, so broken and weak.

He did that.

That was the consequence of his actions.

Namjoon could have sworn his heart dropped in that very moment but he doesn’t remember much of how he felt in those few seconds.

Because after you whispered those words to him, you stood up and turned your back to him, head refusing to look back, feet walking on without another step of hesitation.

It was the last thing he saw of you.

And now here he is, in a building belonging to the Reapers, in your home, with your presence returning to take your revenge.

The door flies open and the noise dies down as all heads turn your way.

A black satin dress falling to the floor, black heels slowly clicking onto the carpet. The room falls so silent he swears he could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for the slow steps you make as the room create a way for you to head for the casket towards the back of the room.

Your hair is pulled up in an updo, a black birdcage veil decorated on the side, hiding part of your face in the dim lit room. Your chin is tilted towards the floor, refusing to make contact with all the curious gazes in the room while your hands fall together in front of you, holding onto a single flower.

The black dahlia tainted with a dark burgundy color.

You look like a grim reaper dressed in black, yet despite the dark color you are decorated in, your face is gentle and soft, pure and innocent with a grieving expression. No one has ever looked so pure dressed in black yet you make it seem so effortlessly looking like an angel walking in grim reaper’s clothing.

Of course Namjoon knows all of this is an act you’re putting on to play the role of the mourning daughter who had just lost her loving father.

He says nothing while the room already falls awestruck by your beauty, despite the fact that your face is tilted down and refusing to give them all a true view.

You fall to your knees once you reach your father’s casket and the room lower their heads in respect of the ritual once you’ve clasped your hands together, greeting the dead Reaper.

Hello, father, you call to him in your thoughts, eyes closed as if you were praying for the angels to bless his path to heaven. But you know more than anyone that your father isn’t in heaven.

I hope you’re rotting well in hell, though I doubt anyone would be able to rot well once they’re in hell. You don’t want to talk to him but you have to put on an act in front of everyone — at least for now. I want to thank you for bringing me into this world. It must be quite a shock to realize the very person you brought into this world is the sole reason you’ve left, huh? There are many things I wish to curse you for but you will never be able to comprehend them all. After all, you’re gone now all because of it. If we had more time, I would have taken my time killing you but I didn’t want to see you living for a second longer.

The flower you had placed before you is handed onto his casket. You stand back on your feet, watching it for a moment to remind yourself that you’ve done well. I’ll be keeping your seat warm for you now. Don’t look after me because I have no need of your guidance any longer. You’re useless to me.

With that, you turn your back to the casket to address the room before your very eyes.

With your face facing the room, you hear a small whistle that almost had you rolling your eyes if you didn’t have that much control over your emotions. You don’t like being seen before a crowd, addressing a room, and perhaps that’s due to the fact that you’ve always hidden yourself well amongst others to the point where you were simply but a shadow to everyone.

And now here you are, facing the underworld with everyone’s eyes staring right at you. You can feel the tremble in your hands and hold them behind your back as your face remains calm.

“Thank you for attending my father’s funeral,” you begin with a gentle facade, a small bittersweet smile curling along your lips as you speak as if you were looking fondly back on your memories with him. “It is a shame to bid him goodbye this soon and I understand that this may have shocked many of you in this room. After all, no one knew of my existence before this very day.”

“Will you be taking his place?” Someone asks and you address him with a nod.

“It is the duty of the heir to take the throne once the father has passed,” you remind him.

“Not unless they’re weak and incomptetent.” You remain nonchalant despite the criticism that leaves another’s lips. When you look over his way, his cocky attitude doesn’t sit well with you but you let him be for now.

He narrows his gaze in suspicion of you. “Your father has held onto quite the legacy,” he states. “How are we to know you’ll promise to continue that?”

“As you’ve said, no one knew of your existence until today. Doesn’t that mean something?” Someone else says, implying the fact that you aren’t up to lead a whole gang, that you’re weak and therefore your father refused to let the world know you existed.

Which was half true. Father indeed saw you as someone who shouldn’t exist and had shamed the face of the Reapers.

Yet despite all the jabs made your way and more, you refuse to give into their childish antics.

“I will assume you are saying this because you are concerned for the Reapers now that my father is gone,” you go on to say, receiving a few offhanded scoffs to which you ignore. “I will say this now, the Reapers will do well on their own without your concerns.”

“Young lady, if you hadn’t realized,” Ah, you don’t like the name he addressed you with, “Now that your father is gone, that throne is for anyone to take.”

“Ah,” you say, “are you saying you wish to takeover my father’s empire?”

“There’s no one left to defend it.”

“I am here to defend it.”

“Barely.”

A laugh and two.

They’re all mocking you.

The corner of your lips curl into a smirk at their underestimation of you. You can’t blame them, they don’t know who you are but that just makes it all the more fun for your part. Because unlike a hidden shadow whom no one has a clue on how her skills are, you have already figured out many of the weaknesses in this very room.

“Alright then, since you doubt me so much,” a playful pitying sigh escapes you, “I guess we’ll just have to deal with this the old fashion way.” Your eyes scan the room, a small grin plastered on your face. “Whoever defeats me will have the chance at taking over the Reapers.”

At your announcement, laughter leave some lips as if you had just made the most funniest joke. When you raise a brow their way, silent in response to their laughs, they realize this crazy fool have just created the easiest way to take over another gang.

“I don’t really like fighting with a girl,” someone steps up to say.

You smile. “Don’t worry about that. Just do your best without holding back.”

He scoffs at your words. “I think I should be saying that to you instead, darling. I’d hate to paint any dirt on that pretty face of yours.”

“Ah, you’re calling me pretty? Why thank you. But as I’ve said,” your eyes darken slightly with amusement, “don’t hold back.”

You stand still, standing tall without moving to any protective stance and they all watch as the gentleman of a different gang begins to lung at you.

His fist grazes past your face and when he almost stumbles on his feet to return back to his stance, the man realizes you’ve just dodged an attack of his. Brows furrowing, he looks your way to find a raised brow made his way.

“You’re holding back,” you say with a small pout. “I’m kind of disappointed you’re underestimating me, good sir.”

It’s easy to rile him up because a man like him doesn’t like it when their masculinity is being challenged. He goes in for another punch and when you dodge that one, his leg is ready to hit you at your blind spot, only it doesn’t get far because once more, he’s barely able to get within an inch of your bubble.

For a second Seokjin was almost afraid for you but seeing as that man is only making a fool out of himself, he lets out a bored sigh, knowing just how one-sided this has quickly become.

“Why don’t we add a weapon?” He suggests and you readily agree.

“Whatever you’d like.”

He reaches for a dagger while Mingyu hands you your katana and in split seconds, he thrusts it your way. Only a step to the side and a knee-kick up his stomach almost has him reeling. Yet the man doesn’t give up as he goes for you again.

A clash of the blades.

Another.

And he’s pushed to the floor.

“What a disappointment,” you say as you spin your katana along your fingers before letting it rest at your side. “Anyone else?”

A few more challenges you, not wanting to believe just how easy it was for you to knock down the first guy, only to realize you indeed have power as well as skills seconds into the fight with you. One of them gets close, however, when their blade grazes your hair, breaking the clip of your veil and causing your hair to cascade down your shoulders.

The darkness in your eyes only becomes more and more clear after each dodge and attack until you’re faced with the final challenger who threw his blade your way, which ends up missing completely and going for the side but you’re quick to grab it and throw it back to land it right before the tip of his shoe.

You turn for a second, gazing silently at the man the blade had almost hit if you hadn’t saved it, and Hoseok acknowledges you with a small nod.

“How?” The man coughs out and your attention is brought back to him.

You let out a small sigh. “Upset you were defeated by someone who carries a vigina in between her legs?” You hate to admit this but, “In the end, I am my father’s daughter after all.” A powerful man so strong almost no one can oppose him. You trained so well under your father you sometimes forget some people were never on his level to begin with — the only good thing that came out of being his daughter — though you guess it was also the very reason you had hurt a lot.

So in all honesty, these people weren’t even worth your time. Sure some of them put up a fight but these were leading members of the mafias you were once so afraid of.

What a let down.

You turn around to head for your father’s casket once more when the last man takes hold of the blade before his feet, running your way and ready to lead a surprise attack.

Only to be stopped by Mingyu who’s quick on his feet, stepping up before you and twisting his blade out of his hand.

Yuna jabs him on the neck and Yeojun stands at a protective stance in front of you.

The room falls quiet as you turn around while a few more of your Reapers have surrounded themselves around you with glares leveling around the room.

And that’s when they realize just how unrecognizable the Reapers faces are to them. After all, despite the fact that not everyone in this room was in your father’s favors, they have all encountered moments with his people. But looking at the people who have come to protect you, none of them are faces that were loyal to your father.

The people who served your father are all gone, replaced with your own people.

A look at the casket then a look your way.

And that’s when it hits them.

“You…” Someone points a finger your way, eyes wide as they level an accusation at you. “How did the Reaper die?” He asks the very question everyone else in this room has.

Finally they’re speaking your language.

Your lips tug into a smirk and that is all the answer they need.

Someone steps up to try and force their way through, only to be stopped by Namjoon’s arm.

“That’s enough,” he speaks in a low, commanding voice.

Another leader steps up, and then another. You stand at the very center of the room, a few Reapers by your side while your allies watch them with careful gazes.

When the remaining mafia members sees you’ve already built your own dynasty with your father’s former allies playing at your side, the consuming aura which exceeds from the new Reaper is so powerful the room becomes suffocating.

And that’s when it hits them: you’ve already taken the throne and they were fighting for nothing.

.

.

.

When the room empties and all that’s left are you and your Reapers, you stand there staring at your father’s casket as still as ever.

Everything falls silent once more and the longer you stand there looking at the room which looks so perfect without a hint of flower in disarray, the harder it is for you to keep still.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. “Why can’t you get it right?” He asked with irritation clear in his voice.

You coward before him, brows creasing with insecurity because you hated it. You just wanted to get it right yet nothing seems to be going your way.

“I’m sorry, father, I promise I’ll do it right next time.”

“Then show me,” he said and you faltered a little.

Yet father remained still with the slightest hint of budge as he stares down at you, eyes cold and dark as they had always been from the moment you left your mother’s womb.

“Do it right,” he said. “I want perfection. I don’t want disorder.”

You stomp up to the casket and kick it as hard as you possibly can, causing the wooded thing to crack and fall from where it was placed on.

The loud crash alerts your Reapers but they say nothing as they watch you from where they are, watching the boss who seems to be losing herself little by little.

You pick up a flower vase, throwing it at the casket which holds empty all for the sake of image. You had burned your father along with the former Reapers that had followed him and all their ashes have already been thrown into the ocean.

All that’s left is an empty room made for your armies to build themselves up. You’re creating your own empire whose legacy will exceed that of your father’s. It’s been weeks since his assassination and his presence should no longer hinder you in any way but why is it that he’s still here?

Living?

All in your head?

You throw another vase. A third. Then take some flowers that had been left for your father and smash them to the floor. They tear against the force of your hits, petals flying off, dirty and wet yet you can’t seem to stop.

“I want perfection.”

You create chaos.

“I don’t want disorder.”

Stop it.

Stop.

Stop.

Crashing and falling. Destruction and disorder are all that you seem to be able to make. But you don’t want perfection. Not like your father. Nothing like your father.

All his life father wanted perfection but you fell in love with disorder. If nothing you did in your father’s eyes was ever right then you’ll create disorder. He hates it and he hates you, it’s a perfect combination.

He never loved you anyway.

“I would be mad but…I’m actually quite proud.”

You scoff silently in your own thoughts, wanting nothing more than to rid of anything that reminds you of your father. Yet no matter what you think of to do, no matter how many physical things you’ve already thrown away, nothing is harder than getting rid of his presence that lives on in your head.

Get out, you say. Just get out.

But he’s not going anywhere and you aren’t sure what to do anymore.

“Boss.”

A cut to your hand caused by a shattered vase and you turn at your second in command who watches you with a silent gaze. You aren’t sure what’s on his mind but you’re sure he’s a bit concerned yet at the same time, used to your sudden outburst.

“Mingyu,” you whisper as you show him the gash and blood that oozes out from the palm of your hand. It’s on your non-dominant hand so at least you won’t have to worry too much. Brows furrowed, lips slightly pouting, you look up at him as a child would when they’ve gotten hurt and have to tell an adult. “It hurts,” you say and stare down at the cut on your hand, not liking the stinging sensation because it reminds you well of your father.

Then again, everything reminds you of your father so why does one more pain even matter?

It doesn’t.

“Of course it would.” Mingyu takes your wrist with a heavy sigh and Yuna hands him a white cloth, to which he carefully uses to wipe carefully around the cut. “What did we say about throwing a tantrum?”

You glare up at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, tugging you lightly and keeping his hand on your wrist as the two of you begin to head out of the room.

The room is nothing but trash after what you had done. Nothing remains perfect except for the remaining black dahlia which sits still on the floor.

Perfect.

Just as your betrayal to your father.

Just like you and your father’s hatred for one another.

He doesn’t love you, he never did. Whether he was truly proud of you or not, you don’t care anymore. You’ve lost touch of feelings long ago yet he still haunts your demons each and every day.

You hate him and the black dahlia is there to prove it right.

.

.

.

The repeated footage plays again and again as if a gif before his eyes and Namjoon isn’t sure what to make of it. Taehyung was able to verify that this wasn’t anything fake and he knows how good the man’s computer skills are but still, Namjoon has his suspicions.

This is his brother after all, the very person he’s been missing almost all his life, in a scene he’s never witnessed before until you sent this over. In all those years during the time he had first gone missing, Namjoon did all that he could to find any source of information in order to find his brother — with his limited skills and power because he had been so young then.

Who would have thought his brother had been with you all along.

“What’s on your mind?” Seokjin asks when he and Yoongi walks in to find the boss lost in thoughts.

Without looking up to know who it was that walked in, Namjoon continues staring at the footage played on loop. “My brother was seventeen when he went missing,” he says, still confused as all the questions are piling up before his eyes. “I thought that he might’ve gotten himself into trouble but this clip says otherwise. He’s living as if he doesn’t have a little brother waiting for him at home. What if he went missing on purpose?”

“You’re saying your father had something to do with his case?” Yoongi asks, raising a brow as the two of them takes a seat.

“The Reapers and Bangtan, we were enemies at the time,” Namjoon states. “We were never on good terms, ever, until I tied that down with Y/N as a vessel between our hands. My father would have never done that if he were still alive. It would make sense for him to send my brother there to infiltrate their home and find some sort of weakness.”

“But he never came back,” Yoongi says and the three of them stare at the monitor which shows Namjoon’s lost brother speaking kindly to a little girl.

A little girl who still lives today, the pure and innocence in her eyes no longer there and had ceased to exist.

“Whatever she knows,” Namjoon plays his finger along his temples with frustration, “I highly doubt a woman like her will give me all the answers without wanting to torture me first.”

“Well.” Yoongi doesn’t finish his sentence but they all understand. You had been loyal and faithful to them in all the days the eight of you were together but they had let you down.

That pretty lady who had the gentlest smile with the kindest heart no longer shines for them. Instead, that pure love you once had for the world itself has ceased from existence. They can still remember that broken girl who had been so desperate to save the relationship, fallen on her knees, only to be left with embarrassment and shame.

They did that to you.

And now here you are, no light left in your eyes, as if all the things you had gone through — whatever they were — had simply broken you.

You broke.

But when? And why? And how?

It is a question they know they will never get the answer to.

“Whatever two cent she’s going to give you, you have it take it,” Seokjin tells him. “At least then you’ll know more than what you do now.”

He’s right. Namjoon’s going to have to suck up whatever it is you have in store for him. No matter how unfair you will treat him, he’ll have to go through with it if he wants to know more about his brother.

All his life he’s has sworn Jungwon was still alive, always refusing to believe in anything otherwise. His brother wouldn’t just up and leave him like that after all. He wouldn’t just leave him alone with their father without a good explanation.

So where is he now? What happened to him and why hadn’t he come back to him?

Only you hold all the answers he wishes to know.

.

.

.

“What did I say?”

“Perfection.” You repeat his motto as if a doll in a trance and all your hands and feet are tied by the puppeteer who is your father. “Perfection.”

“Not disorder.”

“Not...disorder,” you say, eyes blank and staring straight ahead, voice a monotone your heart and ears have yet to get used to.

“That’s right.” He almost seems proud of himself seeing you like this, his daughter, his only heir, without life in her eyes and only responding well to the words he asks her to do. You’re just a pawn to his eyes, nothing more, nothing less, and slowly by slowly, bit by bit, he’s creating you into the perfect little puppet he wishes you had been from the very beginning. He has his fingers wrapped around the strings which tie you up as one would a doll.

You have nowhere to escape.

“Kill him,” father commands and you stare at the man who sits in the room with the two of you, arms and legs tied to a lone chair that sits in the dark room saved by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Kill him.

Kill him.

Kill him.

You’ve never killed a man before, not by your own hands, and this will be the first day you will prove your loyalty to your father. The day you will finally give all of yourself to him.

Hands and feet. All the strings that control your limbs.

You raise your hand and father steps back, watching you carefully with hawk eyes.

“I want perfection,” he repeats again and again. “Straight through the forehead. Do not miss.”

No second choice, no ‘otherwise something will happen to you.’ None of it. Because father expects the best out of you, nothing but perfection. If you can’t be perfect, you can’t be his little puppet doll. You have to be perfect.

Something pulls at your finger when it lands on the trigger as if a force screaming at you to run away, trying to pull you away from doing this. Because the second you have your first kill, you can never go back and the little girl who held so much hope and love for the world will no longer exist.

But where else can you run except the arms of your father who will never let you escape? You have nowhere to go.

You’re trapped. The second you broke, your past self no longer lives.

You’re dead and there is no one to save you.

They’d be all too late anyways.

You pull the trigger and the bullet flies straight into the forehead of the man. He falls back and the chair follows along with him with a loud thud. Blood pools all around from the head and you know right then and there that there’s no going back.

You stare at your hand which is wrapped in white bandage, alone in your vast bedroom surrounded with nothing but darkness. It can’t stop trembling, why can’t it stop trembling?

You thought you were over it. You were supposed to be over it. How many years has it been since your first kill? How many kills have you done after that first one?

Plenty.

Plenty.

Many more that will never be able to fit if you were to count using your fingers and many of them were instigated by none other than your father. You’ve done so much to earn your father’s trust, repeatedly committing crimes after crimes just to please him and prove your loyalty to him.

You may have looked like a try-hard before his eyes, doing all that you can to make him proud.

It worked, it seems, when the moment you stood above his dying body and he had no idea it would be you to eliminate him in the end.

He’s gone now, no longer here to order you around and rule above you.

He’s supposed to be gone but why is he still living in your head?

Ah, you hate this. You hate this so much.

A moment of anger and you punch your hurting hand against the countertop of your vanity. Disarray falls once more and you push everything off, causing many things to crash and break yet despite the stinging pain that appears from the palm of your hand, you ignore it all.

Your knees buckle underneath you and you fall to the floor of your room, hands hovering over your head as if trying to contain yourself from your father trying to get in.

Get away, get away, get away!!

You scream and scream but you know that no matter what happens, you’re still afraid.

Afraid of screaming, of making a single sound, of everything that reminds you of your father.

You’re afraid of him.

He’s gone but he’s here and you hate this more than anything in the world. It’s better that he’s gone but no matter what, father will always cause you fear whether he’s dead or alive and you hate how weak he makes you.

You hate him.

“Y/N.”

You hear Mingyu’s voice. He only calls you your name when you’re like this. He probably heard the loud crashing from outside and was alerted. Everyone knows that whenever you’re having your moments, Mingyu is the best person to go to.

And now here he is, knelt before your trembling body which can’t seem to control its own self. You feel his gentle touch against the wrist of your injured hand as he forces his way in.

“Don’t clench, Y/N, you’re only hurting yourself more.”

You shake your head, unable to listen. “I can’t,” you whisper softly. “He’s here, Mingyu. Get rid of him. Get rid of that bastard.”

“He’s not here.”

“He is.” You pull your arm back from him forcefully, refusing to hear a word he’s saying as you sit up to stubbornly curl your body into a defensive ball. “He’s here, he’s here, and he will always stay. He’s never going to leave.”

“He’s only here because you’re letting him.”

“What else can I do?” You want to cry, to tear up, to feel all the pain at once but your eyes are so dry you can do no such thing. Instead, you’re left with an uncontrollable trembling body and an injured hand, facing Mingyu who crouches before you and refuses to leave you alone. “What can I do when he’s always been here all my life? I can’t get rid of him. I thought that if he left physically, things would be better but I was wrong. It’s just like how it was when he was still alive. Father would never hit me but he constantly tortured my mind and now I can never get rid of him. I can’t and I…I…”

You can’t tell him that you’re afraid, that father scares you more than anything and that you want to be safe from the fears.

Yet Mingyu knows and Mingyu understands just as the day he gave you his life.

That’s why, without hesitation, your second in command slowly reaches for you once more. He’s careful, cautious, with eyes never leaving yours. With a hand wrapped around your hand, he takes a moment to assess your permission before carefully pulling you in.

Your body continues to tremble even as your head eventually lays against his chest and he’s holding onto you carefully, just as Mister Butler once did when he was still alive and taking care of you. You stare blankly at nothing before you, letting the quiet sound of the room echo on, listening to the steady beat of Mingyu’s heart.

He does this often when you can’t control yourself, when things get too overwhelming and the world becomes too scary for you to face. Yuna used to care for you like this until it got too difficult for her to accommodate to your needs.

You’re unpredictable after all, and Yuna’s nothing but a child. A child can’t look after another child, and so Mingyu took over the role during moments when things get too rough for you. When the world is closing in, causing you nightmares after nightmares, Mingyu is right there to lend you his arms and the steady rythme of his heartbeat.

You will always remember the beat of his heart.

For the longest time you sit there in silence, listening to his heartbeat while trying your best to tune out the rest of the world. Just as he’s constantly had to repeat over and over again throughout the years of serving for you.

Yet your body still trembles when Mingyu speaks again.

“You promised Mr. Kim a meeting at five today,” he says and you blink, unconcerned for it.

“And?”

“It’s nearly five.” You fall silent once more and he waits for a while until you finally break from his arms to stand. “Will you be alright?” He asks, eyes trailing after you with genuine concern.

“I have to fake it, don’t I?”

Mingyu sighs. There’s no way for him to convince you otherwise. After all, nothing gets in your way of doing your duties, no matter how bad your breakdowns may be merely seconds before meeting a member outside of the Reapers. You’ve learned to fake your emotions so well before everyone’s eyes, having been taught to do so from a very young age.

“At least let me wrap your hand again.”

You let him.

.

.

.

“How is she?” When Mingyu walks out of your room to let you dress, Yuna and Yeonjun are instantly at his feet, concerns clearly marked on their faces.

“She’ll be alright.”

“So she’s a mess,” Dasom interprets from the side of the wall, a furrow in her brows.

The two younger ones frown. “Why won’t she just cancel everything and rest?” Yuna asks, her head falling to the floor.

“You know boss’s stubbornness far exceeds any of our concerns. Now go back to your posts, simply worrying about her won’t let boss’s problems disappear just like that.” They know he’s right so without further ado, the two of them are on their feet, trodding along back to where they should be with one last glance made towards your closed door.

“Well?”

Hearing Dasom’s voice from the side, Mingyu looks up to find her watching him with expectancy in her eyes, letting him know that she wasn’t going to go anywhere unless he spilled.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Sometimes I wish she would just cry.”

“You know that won’t happen anytime soon.”

“Yeah well, that demon in her head isn't going anytime soon either.”

“The day she ever sheds a tear again,” she steps up to him with a hand on his shoulder, “our dear boss won’t cry pretty, so you’d better be prepared for that. Boss will hurt...and so will we.”

How many years has it been since she joined your side and pledged her loyalty to you? In all those years, you’ve never once shed a tear.

Mingyu and Dasom both met you after you were broken. The only one to ever witness it all was Yuna.

A little puppet in the making for your father to control.

Series

Getting Back Into the Swing of Things

ot7 x reader

light ansgt, fluff, slow burn, roommates au, polyamory

preview: Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back.

For some reason those times didn't feel as far as they usually did.

"Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years,"

"No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?"

A huffed, snotty laugh. At least he could still make her laugh. "Yeah, we did. So, then..?"

"You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?"

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5 | p.6 | p.7 | ...

more coming soon...

Imagines

Coming soon...

Drabbles

(I also update these upon request)

spy au idea | spy au drabble | 2 | 3

ex-fiancés au idea | ex-fiances au drabble | 2

college au idea

the a/b/o au that will never be... maybe idea

One-shots

The Ceremony (coming soon...)

ot7 x reader

omegaverse, fluff, smut

Requests (open!)

ABC asks (nsfw)

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O Z P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Yes!The growling bear pretending to sleep beside you finally opens his heart, and you turn around and pounce on him. Wrapping him up in your tight embrace, you slowly adorn his naked torso with small, soft kisses.

“Why did you have to inject poison in the air for so long? Could have just told me what I already knew.”

Taehyung stares at the ceiling instead of connecting eyes with you, because what you said is the whole truth. He can’t hide his feelings too well, but his ego writes cheques that his manner can’t cash.

“Look at me,” you urge him, and he finally turns to you.

Even in the slight shine of the night lamp, his eyes glow, the mole under his monolid eye almost under a spotlight. His slightly long hair sweeps over the pillow, a pillow that you will hug dearly when he’s away for work, for it will smell of his sweet scent. His lips are slightly pouty, as though offended by your easy read on him. You move ahead to wipe the pout away, and he allows you.

Slowly, your lips find their rhythm against his, sliding with each other and making you giddy with love. Taehyung seems to be melting, because he slips his hand around your waist, and now the blockade of dense air that separated the two of you has melted, giving you unrestricted access to each other.

The tip of your tongue lightly caresses his lower lip, and you can feel him wrap his leg around you and pull you into him, parting his lips at the same time to let you deepen the kiss. It never gets rough, Taehyung’s tongue mingling with your own, each one of you finding your own way to go deeper. Your fingers sketch circles on the back of his neck, and you can just about feel the hair rising on the site. After a few seconds of you kissing his worries away, you pull back.

“Still mad?” You softly tap his nose, and he blinks wide-eyed, before going back to his smiley disposition that you had left him with after the kiss.

“No… Maybe.”

You look in question. “Maybe?”

“He just,” Taehyung sighs, “he rubbed me the wrong way, that’s all.”

“And you thought he would rub me the right way? Sorry,” you’re already regretting the words that left your foolhardy mouth, “this was terrible timing for that terrible joke.”

“It really was.”

“What did he actually do? I don’t even remember anything to upset you like this,” you giggle, completely ignoring what is festering inside your partner, “you’ve met worse assholes. Why are you so bothered by only Jungkook?”

The time it takes for Taehyung to move from your side, looking innocent and slightly grumpy, to jumping atop you with a sinister expression – unreal speeds.

“Don’t. Take. His name.”

He is not playing. One look in his blazing eyes and you can tell, Taehyung is genuinely furious.

Leaning down, he whispers into your ear, “I trust you, you know that right?”

One finger is hooking under the strap of your night dress, slowly pulling it down. He pauses midway to hear your answer, because in the heat of the happenings, your senses are lost. You give him a small nod, and he continues undressing you.

Moving to the other side, he hums, “And you know there’s nothing you could’ve done, right?”

“I, I do.”

“I’m just,” he breathes out over your naked torso, and you don’t know whether it's from the exasperation of the day or the sight of your undressed body, “I’m just dying to get his neck in my palm, and to just wring it.”

An ungainly snort from you shakes the bedding, and Taehyung looks up at you from the valley of your cleavage and gives up the most unassuming smile.

“And while you didn’t do anything wrong,” Something he does instantly, grabbing you by your hips and flipping you over, knocking the breath out of your chest, “that does not mean I have to play nice.”

“Taehyung, babe, come on–”

You can’t complete whatever that sentence was, because with one clean swoop your dress is away, and your now nude self feels the chill in the air, slightly numbing your senses. The chill is either from the outside weather slithering in, or from the frigid mood that Taehyung decided to set.

“You keep telling me its harmless banter,” Taehyung’s large, slender fingers grab the underside of your ass checks, spreading them apart, “I bet you thought I was being harmless when we met at that party, huh?”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks thinking of that night despite the shivers in your bones, and you shift your face in the pillow to respond.

“Your eyes are never harmless,” you softly reply.

The man does not respond, and when you gracelessly turn to prod for an answer, your muscles give out before completing the action – because Taehyung’s palm moves from gripping your glutes to placing a whip-like smack on your ass, the force of it jiggling your flesh for a good second. You suck in a breath between your teeth, the shooting pain working like an antidote to the coils of stress you were carrying all night.

“Babe…” you can barely whisper right, and that is truly the effect that Taehyung unleashes on you.

Smack!

You hiss again, ass rising in response to the spank, and Taehyung’s arms mould you to the position he wants you in, on your arms and knees; the next one hits you right in the center.

“Sshii– fuck,” your train of thought is just a melding of curses as he rains down two in succession, and when he takes a break, the only noises in the room are your heavy breathing, and his.

“Spread your legs for me love,” Taehyung simply utters, and you’re already too turned-on to question anything.

Even with your shut eyes, your years of togetherness can tell you where Taehyung moves just from the dip in bed. Today though, his movements aren’t the same. It is never like this, and you want to revisit the night to understand his mood.

But very soon you decide to slate that for another time, because you finally get to know what Taehyung’s plan is. In the form of his tongue licking the smarting skin on your back.

“You really,” Taehyung starts between kisses, “couldn’t see through his rushe,” the last word is slurred because his tongue took over. But he solidly pauses, to complete his statement. “Couldn’t see him undressing you with his stare, couldn’t tell his lewd attempts to get closer,” his fingertips dancing around your dewy core, “couldn’t even feel the crude smirks when he made you laugh,” he finishes with one more long lick across your tingling cheek.

Your cunt throbs hard when you feel the wetness soothe the irate flesh, begging to feel it against your own core. But he takes his time, alternating between soft kisses and swift swipes, and after what feels like an eternity, he gently pushes one finger in your slit – that one alone reaches places you can’t possibly dream to reach with your own lacking digits.

“I’m–I–I didn–”

“Yeah, yeah you didn’t.” Taehyung’s ability to modulate the depth of his voice is something you have enjoyed a lot in the past. But at this moment, he seems to be speaking from the base of his throat, the gravelly, throaty insinuations lighting your libido up, soon to be an uncontainable inferno. All because of him.

At his own, deathly slow pace, he pushes a second finger inside, and you groan against your forearm, your skeleton begging to stop holding your form up, but you persist – because something tells you a move out of place will be far more regretful.

Your walls can feel the cool metal ridges of his ring, and with every move in he curls his fingers perfectly, leaving you short-winded and craving for more. “You really believe he had innocent ideas when he pulled you away from the group? You think I didn’t see when he guided you across the room with his stupid tattoed arm around your waist? You think that was necessary, Y/N?”

“No, no ba–babe,” you breath is ragged, because your body is entirely uncoordinated, “listen, I really need more–”

“Shut up. My princess here needs to open her eyes more,” he continues nonchalantly, not a word out of pitch even though his fingers are working their magic to wind you up, “doesn't she? She reads my eyes like a child's book, but can't read a stranger's actions. Tsk, so plain in sight. " His digits curl inward and you see stars, no, entire planets looming over you, readying themselves to crash into you any moment now.

You muffle your scream by biting your pillow, but it hardly helps, because Taehyung clearly loves to hear you struggle.

"P–please, he’s just some gu–babe… I nee–oh I need–"

"You need what," he spat out with such force, the same force with which he took away his fingers, ending his session of toying with you. You have real tears, left hanging on the precipice of an orgasm, and before you can grab your bearings, you are flipped and Taehyung takes his place back on top of you.

"You need that fucking dick?" A wave of goosebumps dress your body when you see the sin written on his face, as he practically roars his anger on your face. "What do you want babe, do you want him here? I'm my place? Playing with your-"

Before he completes that dastardly sentence, you place the full stop the best way known to man. You raise your torso and kiss him, hard, almost knocking your foreheads together with the forward force. Unlike the previous moment with your intertwined lips, this exchange has more fight, more friction, way more heat – when your fingers intertwine with his, you don’t know; when your legs wrap around his waist, you don’t know; when he slips his tongue in and gains control of his kiss, you haven’t a fucking idea.

Taehyung digs his teeth into a corner of your lower lip, hard enough for you to feel the indent when he relents – you take this opportunity to make yourself very, very clear.

“I need you. I want you, I don’t want some dick, I want this fucking dick.”

There’s a split second when the deafening silence threatens to consume you, the absence of any action after everything that brings you a sensory deprivation – but soon Taehyung recovers, and only whispers three simple words.

“Then take it.”

With the negligence to prepare you for this, any other day you would require a minute to adjust, because Taehyung is big. He’s usually considerate enough to take his time, easing in slowly, but today the devil that took over him doesn’t bother with pedantic formalities. The action shoots you off the bed, body trying to find a formation that will make this more comfortable, but Taehyung’s hands keep you firm in place.

“Everytime you think of tonight, I want you to see this,” his malevolent whisper terrorizes your ear as he pulls out slowly, just to slam in again, “not a party. Not a hundred people. Not Jung-fucking-kook. Here. This. You,” another pump in, and it hit you at the exact spot that was teased a while ago, making you wail out to the ceiling, “and I.”

You wonder if those words are meant for you or for himself, but wondering was a chore right now and you’d rather just gratefully take the fucking you got. Placing a palm on his shoulder, you briefly break his momentum, just to move your legs from around his waist to over his shoulders.

“Make me,” you present him with the challenge.

His devilish smirk only shows acceptance.

Body folded in half, you can just lay there and take the unyielding thrusts Taehyung endows you, his force not faltering for a second. Your moans turn into groans, coming from deeper parts of your chest and evoking higher pitches from you. Taehyung’s hands lay on either side of your face, and he thrusts into you with renewed vigour. You are possibly screaming into his ear, but you have no coherent collection of space because he has sent you hurling into your orgasm.

It is free-fall, recovery from this feeling. Like a black-hole warping your sensation, a weight pulling you lower and lower. You know you’re recovering from it when your back can finally feel the bedding, and your chest can feel the weight of a finished, and now very tired Kim Taehyung. His cum has made a mess of your pussy and the sheets below, but for now, neither of you have the energy to care.

“You okay?” You bring your hand to caress his mop of hair, lightly tugging to have him meet your eyes. There is some reluctance, but finally when he gets out of the nook of your neck, you see it. Some regret. Some reproach. Some worry. He opens his mouth to utter some version of “I’m fine” but you interrupt him.

“I love you. So much. I’m not sure what prompted this, and I know you’re not one to do this without cause, but I would feel much happier if you told me. I’m not forcing you, but I’d like it.”

Taehyung smiles, and rids his mind of any empty falsities he was going to give you. Balancing himself on one arm, he brings his other hand to adjust the stray tresses on your forehead, and after a huge sigh, he begins.

“I met him in the restroom. I was already put off, but it wasn’t terrible. He was trying to make small talk, and I was playing along – but he really had the audacity to say ‘Keep her well, or else… Someone else might’ – and he fucking smirked! That bitch, said that with his whole chest. Like I don’t know who this ‘someone else’ is. Dickwad.” Taehyung’s blood is boiling, but he comes back down to wrap you in his arms, and you can sense his pulse lowering.

But you, on the other hand, are absolutely flabbergasted. “Why would Jungkook even say that? I can't imagine what his reason was...”

“You’re so…” Taehyung starts, giving you a small smile, “He clearly likes you.”

“Jungkook! No fuckin’ way,” you bring your hand up to wave every sliver of that thought away, but Taehyung grabs it and covers it with his own palm.

“Again, I wonder how you read me so well, but you can’t see someone hovering around you. Tonight he was like Callisto to your Jupiter, if Callisto wanted Jupiter’s attention at all times.”

You snicker at his description, and you still can’t bring yourself to believe it, but for tonight, you can shelve the topic. After all, there are more important things to drown yourself in.

“Why would I go around reading some rando’s eyes,” wrapping your arm around Taehyung’s neck, you softly whisper, “when my baby’s eyes tell me everything I need for a lifetime of happiness?”

You finally see Taehyung’s happiness scale go up, his chiseled jaw fading away with the rise of his cheekbones and plumping of his cheeks. Seeing him smile like that, the last few knots of tension that laid siege to your body vanish, and you feel at ease. Happy, content and at ease.

“I love you.” He lightly kisses your lips.

“I love you too.”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!