KboyS

Rules: Bold what you prefer and tag friends to do this.

I was tagged by: @jfc-max thank you 💕❤️

1. Coffee or Tea (not a huge fan of either)

2. Early bird or Night owl

3. Chocolate or Vanilla

4. Spring or Fall

5. Silver or Gold

6. Pop or Alternative

7. Freckles or Dimples

8. Snakes or Sharks

9. Mountains or Fields

10. Thunderstorms or Lightning (both scary)

11. Egyptian or Greek mythology

12. Ivory or Scarlet

13. Flute or Lyre

14. Eyes or Lips

15. Witch or Fairy

16. Opal or Diamond

17. Butterflies or Honeybees

18. Macarons or Eclairs

19. Typewritten or Handwritten letters

20. Secret garden or Secret library

21. Rooftop or Balcony

22. Spicy or Mild

23. Opera or Ballet

24. London or Paris

25. Vincent Van Gogh or Claude Monet

26. Denim or Leather

26. Potions or Spells

28. Ocean or Desert

29. Mermaid or Siren

30. Masquerade ball or Cocktail party

I tag: @ohkaibaekyeol @ly-nia @sekaisoosgirl

Warnings: NADA (NOTHING) 

Words: 893

A/N: This is officially the second part of my series, I would love some feedback please.

You stood straight, an air of confidence filling your lungs at the seemingly proud smile across your “boss’“ face. It was the uniform, that much you knew, from bottom to top you looked just like his assistant, hair tied back in a low bun, a couple of strands falling to frame your face. Your shoulders felt wide and proud in the white dress shirt that was covered by a black blazer and tucked into your black pencil skirt. Underneath you wore opaque black tights that ended at your black heels. He knew the secret to the outfit though, just as much as you were aware of it, the simple K5, semi-automatic pistol in it’s holster just under your blazer. 

“How are you feeling?” He grinned, almost like that of the Cheshire cat, except undeniably sultrier. You gulped slightly and placed your hands in front of your waist, folded into one and other as a way of showing politeness.

“I’m feeling okay sir, I’m not used to the gun but neither am I used to not being at the door downstairs,” You told him, voice remaining steady despite the nauseous feeling in your stomach. The assistant had left you alone with Mr.Oh the second you had finished putting on your new uniform, much to your disappointment. 

“Miss, you don’t have to be so formal, please come and have a drink with me, over there,” He was still grinning in that stupidly sexy manner, pointing to a set of white couches at the other end of the room. The rumours were true after all. In fact, everything you had heard about the room was true, the off-white walls with the single bookcase wall that really did seem oddly placed yet completely elegant. His large brown desk was completely spotless, a laptop in the centre of it and some brown files on one end, and a black coffee mug that seemed to be still steaming on the other end. The floor was wooden, a light cream coloured wood that had a few scratches across the surface off it, with  a large white rug in the centre of the room that was perfectly aligned with the crystal chandelier and a simple wooden chair in front of his desk. In the corner where he was pointing was two white arm chairs and a black loveseat, all angled neatly around a golden cart that had numerous bottles of alcohol atop it and several different sized glasses. And there really was a distinct smell in the room, a metal like smell mixed with cigarette smoke and mint. 

He took the first steps towards the arm chairs and you followed slowly and carefully behind him, taking the seat opposite him. He stared directly at you as he poured some whiskey into one of the glasses and handed it to you.

“So, I read your file, you might have seen it on the desk,” He nodded over to the desk as he watched you take a small sip of your drink, you looked at the brown file, nodding your head along with him. “My company was your first full time job, you had worked in a small restaurant before that, what made you come and work here?” He asked, sipping his drink and leaning back in the chair, his narrow eyes staring right through you. You let out a deep sigh, leaning back in the chair and looking down into your cup. 

“My father passed away when I was 16, he didn’t leave a will, no note, nothing, he was murdered but my mum always hid the details from me, the only thing I knew is that he worked for this company. After he died I began working at the restaurant and everyone constantly commented on him, the restaurant is just down the road from here and often times I would see men in suits come in and out of the restaurant, they would all look at me and whisper, so I would ask my co-workers to see where they all went after eating, all of them used to come back here, to this company. So when I turned 18 I decided to apply to work here, except as soon as I started working here those same men stopped appearing and nobody commented on anything anymore, I felt so stupid but I needed the money to help my mum with her debt that my father left her in,” You told him, out of confidence that you could trust him, except when you looked back up his eyes were glassy and cold, as if he was somewhere else completely and not in the room with you. 

“Your father was ByungJae right?” He was staring right at you, a look of hatred in his eyes that sent a chill across your body, you simply nodded, licking your lips. He continued to stare right at you, his grip on the glass tightened as his thoughts consumed him. 

“I’m going to tell you this because we are partners now, trust is important,” 

The small smirk on his face made you nervous, did you really want to know this? After all these years of not knowing what kind of man your dad truly was, were you prepared to find out?

Warnings: mentions of murder and blood.

Genre: Angst? Very slight Fluff.

Word count: 1.221

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April 3rd 2018.

“He doesn’t trust anyone, don’t think you’re going to be any thing special,”

“You can’t fall in love with someone who doesn’t feel emotions,”

“He’s going to break your heart,”

He does break your heart, over and over again.

But he always mends it.

His soul had been crushed beyond repair and yet you continue to hold the pieces in your hands, hoping to piece them together.

“Y/N, just leave me, you don’t want someone like me,” he whispered, his naked chest rising and falling in calm frustration, your fingers tracing the delicate skin that concealed the organ that had seen the most pain....

his heart.

“Yoongi, I could never, I don’t care what you did, I don’t care if you think you did something wrong, I want to be here for you and that’s my own choice, get over it,” you whispered back, your fingers stopping over a small scar that had always hurt you to look at.

“Why do you always go for that scar?” He mumbled, his arm under your neck pulling you closer to him, his fingers twirling your hair delicately.

“Because it hurts me, how could anyone ever want to hurt you?” You whispered, you were looking up at him but his eyes were closed, his grip tightened around you.

“I tell you this everytime Y/N, I had a rough upbringing, stop asking questions about it, now I’ll go make lunch, stay here,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket away from him and tucking it under your body, his naked form moving away from you.

You sighed and looked at him, your thoughts taking over, why was he so secretive? Did he enjoy hurting you? Did he not trust you?

“Y/N,”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, he was smiling at you, a hint of sadness on his features,

“I love you,” he whispered, his hands gripping the band of his boxers that he had just pulled on. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, sitting up, the covers slipping down to your waist.

“I love you too,” you smiled, allowing him to kiss your forehead.

As soon as he left the room you felt tears growing in your eyes, you were hurting. The last few days with him had been awful, he was distant, cold, and he had been coming home at stupid hours, smelling of smoke and alcohol. You loved him but despite his words, you didn’t believe that he loved you.

A small vibration under the pillow drew you away from your thoughts. You lifted the pillow and stared down at his phone, your eyebrows furrowing.

You quickly cleared the message and put the pillow back over the phone, your tears flowing freely now. He did it again. He had hurt someone again.

November 9th 2017.

The clock had just struck 3am, Yoongi still hadn’t come home and you just couldn’t sit around and wait for him anymore. 2 years of relationship under your belt and you had cried over him over 50 times, each time being hurt beyond your limit. It seemed that your limit was raised every time he did something bad. Maybe you just didn’t have a limit anymore.

When Yoongi arrived you were sleeping on the sofa, in a sitting position with the TV quietly playing a drama that you weren’t watching. He was relieved that you were asleep, he didn’t care to show you the state that he was currently in. He pushed his shoes off his feet, trying to avoid touching anything around him. The bathroom was the place he instantly ran to, dropping his coat on the floor and staring down at his grey t-shirt that was coated in blood. His hands were shaking, the red liquid dry and dark, dirt under his nails. The man in the mirror was someone he so wished he didn’t recognise, but he did. It was him, face smudged with blood and dirt, lips parted to allow his oddly calm breath to fall through them.

Slowly, he reached for the shower, turning the hot water on and sighing as he placed his clothes in a bag.

“Yoongi?”

It was a small whisper that sent his whole world spiralling, his whole body turning to you, his stomach covered in the blood that had seeped through his shirt. Your face was pale, almost lifeless as you stared at the love of your life covered in blood. His hands, face, stomach and socks were covered in blood, his black jeans had patched of dirt over them.

“Did you hurt yourself?” You mumbled, face still pale, heart hammering in your chest and your hands shaking as you approached him. He stepped back, away from you, shaking his head. You continued to move towards him, your main concern being him.

“Stop.”

His broken voice made you stand still, tears dripping from your eyes, your throat on fire and your head spinning.

“Yoongi, what happened? I’ll help you clean up, please just tell me what happened,” you whispered, your feet moving towards him once again. Your hands met with his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly against it.

“No, I did something horrible, I just-“

He was becoming frantic, as if realising what he had done, his whole body becoming numb.

“Yoongi, take your underwear off and get in the shower, we can talk once you’re clean,” you told him, placing your hand over his bloodied cheek. He pulled his boxers down as you helped him take his socks off. You didn’t care for the possible outcome of the night he had suffered, you just wanted him to be okay. You quickly removed your own clothes and got into the shower.

“You don’t have to help me,” He whispered, his eyes full of tears, his whole body shaking as the hot water hit him.

“You’re right, but I want to,” you told him, rubbing his face with your hands, the blood dripping to the shower floor in a pink pool around both your feet. His arms wrapped around your waist, his hands shaking. The blood across his whole body was slowly running off of him onto the shower floor. He was breathing heavily, tears falling down his face.

“Y/N, I killed someone,” he mumbled, his eyes staring straight through you.

April 3rd 2018

A second message came through shortly after, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at it, your hands instantly reaching over to grab the phone.

Your heart hammered against your chest and your head spun, you were doing it again. You were going to be an accessory to murder for the second time in your 3 year relationship with Min Yoongi.

You instantly rose to your feet, pulling some panties on and leaving your bedroom. You rushed down the stairs towards the kitchen, much to Yoongi’s amusement.

“Babe, you could have at least put on a shirt, not that I mind but-“

“Yoongi, did you hurt someone again!?”

You couldn’t help the loud tone that escaped your mouth, your hand shoving his phone against his chest.

“What are you talking about? I promised you I wasn’t going to hurt anyone again,” he mumbled, his expression changed as soon as he looked down at his phone.

“Y/N, go get dressed,” he told you, his hands shaking.

“Yoongi, wha-“