In the short time you’ve been here, you’ve somehow become the staff mom and the de facto manager on top of that. Of the other baristas working there, you were the oldest and most experienced, and most of the rest were varying ages of student. You were the only career barista, and it showed. The others quickly began to rely on your experience, and that reliance was most evident when the giant, finicky espresso machine decided to act up.

It’s already been one of those days. The holidays are always a clusterfuck; busy, messy, and stressful as hell. The stretch between Christmas and New Years is the messiest of all. Your customers are typically harried and your own personal lives are stretched thin. Equipment breaking was just whipped cream on the seasonal latte.

“Y/N,” Jimin turns his head, speaking over his shoulder. “We’ve got a problem.”

You blink at him, glancing over his shoulder as he gives the pressure dial on the machine a tap. The gauge shows a rapidly rising temperature, crossing into the red with alarming speed.

“Huh,” you frown as you hand the customer before you his change, directing him to the pick up counter. No one left in line. That’s good. You walk over, point the steam wand out, and flip the lever to run it. The gauge’s little arm doesn’t move, staying stubbornly in the red. At least it stops rising.

“I’ll make the call. Use the other head for now. There are two boilers in that thing, I think, so the other it should be okay to use. I’ll be right back.”

You step into the back storage room, pull your phone from your back pocket, and call your boss. You already know what he’s going to tell you, but you usually make sure to talk to him first. It’s mostly because you want to make sure he knows what a pain in the ass this fucking machine is, despite his insistence that it’s top of the line.

The line rings and rings; the asshole just won’t pick up the other line. It’s a pity he pays so well despite being the most absent boss you’d ever worked for. It means you can’t completely hate his guts.

You hang up the call and pop him a quick text.

::: machine seems to have a boiler issue, i’m calling the tech.

boss::: 👍

You roll your eyes. Fucker can’t answer a phone call but can send an emoji. Figures.

You poke your head out of the back room to make sure Jimin is holding his own before making the call. There’s a lull, he’s already finished his drink queue and is leaning against a counter, detail cleaning a portafilter. God, you could have kissed him right then and there just for that. With a little smile playing on your lips, you duck back into the back and search for the barista tech’s phone number and press call.

It rings twice before he picks up: “Yoongi Min speaking.”

His voice is like melted chocolate, or a freshly made ganache. Dark. Velvety. Rich. You just want to dip your finger in it and suck.

“Hi Yoongi, this is Y/N from KnockBox.”

“Ah, I thought it might be you. I’ll make sure I actually save your number this time. I almost didn’t pick up.”

Weird, he answered after two rings. “I don’t blame you for not saving it. The hope would be that I don’t have to call you this often.”

“Mm,” he grunts, “And yet, here we are. What’s the machine doing this time?”

“Boiler issue I think, it’s heating up and staying in the red. Won’t go down after letting steam run, nor running the grouphead.”

“Hm.” Yoongi is silent on the other end of the line for a moment. “Don’t use it, but don’t turn it off yet. You’ve got the double boiler machine right?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye on both of them. These machines often have faulty switches that don’t trip when they overheat. I can recalibrate them but there’s enough wires and shit that I can’t talk you through it.” He pauses again, and then continues with a sigh. “I can be there in two hours. I know that’s not ideal because you close in an hour …” His voice is low enough that it makes your skin tingle. Waiting for him is no problem; at least you’ll get to look at him for a few minutes during the trade off.

“Yeah, but we need a functioning machine. I have no problem waiting for you.” Cruel, ironic laughter echoes in your skull.

“This time of year is a bullshit season for coffee, I get it. Maybe you could just wait around to let me in, and then lock the door so that it locks behind me when I leave? That way you don’t have to wait on me and you can go home.”

“Yeah, I think we did that last time.”

“Alright, cool, see you then, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. See you in a couple of hours.”

The line disconnects, and you sit with your head in your hands for a moment before heading back out to the front. Fuck. He was so attractive you can hardly stand it.

“How was the dreamboat?” Jimin asks, trying to play it as cool as he can. His lip quirks when you throw him a look; he knows exactly how attractive you find the machine tech your boss contracts out, and he will never let you live it down.

“He must be out at another job. He can’t be here for another two hours.” You said the words as plainly as you could, not trying to give your coworker the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

“Fuck, seriously?” Jimin pushed himself off the counter and placed the portafilter on the machine’s drip tray. “You want me to stay? I don’t have class tonight.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I think it’s supposed to snow. You should go home once we’re done,” you say, casually. Like hell if you were going to miss seeing the man who’d haunted your dreams since you’d first had to call him. “I’ll just let him in and then leave.”

“Or, hear me out, you could fuck him in the back and THEN let him work on the machine.”

“Ugh, Jimin, next to the mop bucket? That’s fucking disgusting.”

“And so is this crush you’ve had on him for the past few months! It’s so obvious even the babies have started to talk about it. Jungkook has plotting about how to get you two together since he caught you staring at Yoongi’s dump truck ass!”

“He’s what??”

“He and Sarah and Mercedes! Shit, Mercedes is about ready to put the moves on him just so you suck up your feelings and make your move to stop her.” All three of your little baby baristas are traitors?! Since when?

“Those little punks, I’m going to make them scrub the back splash bricks with a toothbrush.”

“That’s an empty threat and you know it. You’d rather do it yourself.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. You thought you’d been stone cold about this crush; that you’d been nothing but professional and courteous. Instead you’d gotten caught by all of your coworkers. How had they even known you were staring? You were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible by doing cleaning tasks!

“Does everyone know about this, Jimin? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Yes. Literally everyone knows. Even regulars. The cute little old guy who brings in his newspaper every morning? He’s asked me about it, and how could I lie to him? So he knows.”

“God, Jimin, I get it, everyone knows.”

“Seokjin, that hot dilfy lawyer? He knows. He ships the shit out of y’all.”

“I’m going to end every single one of you.”

“He says that when y’all get married he’ll give you a discount on your wills and powers of attorney.”

You groan, “You’re all dead to me.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if a guy like Seokjin can see it happening, anything can happen. You know how jaded that guy is about relationships. He wouldn’t just say something like that and not mean it.” Jimin’s voice is almost serious now, he’s speaking more earnestly in spite of your obvious irritation.

“Oh please, Yoongi only knows I exist because of all the times I’ve had to annoy him with maintenance calls.” It felt strange to say his name aloud in this context.

“I don’t know, I think he’s nicer to you than when I or boss man have to call him.”

“I doubt it. I look like a potato, and you’re all cute and shit, I’m sure he’s way nicer to you. I’m just an amorphous, unsexy lump.”

Jimin hates that you pick apart your appearance. He knows that there are days where you sit in front of your mirror and agonize about which black shirt to wear with a pair of your customary dark wash jeans. These are the days that push you closer than you like to being late. You lack confidence, and you mask it by pretending you don’t really care. He knows you do, and that’s what bothers him.

“Y/N, I swear to god, I’m going to make you start saying two put ups for every time you put yourself down.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a put down if it’s true.”

“Put a pin in that, we’ll talk about that in a second, but I don’t think you realize the number of times I’ve caught Yoongi checking out your ass when you aren’t looking.”

“It’s gravity. Things are attracted to large objects against their will.”

“Y/Nnnnnn”

“Jiminnnnnn,” you quip back. The deflections are always easy. Dealing with Jimin seeing right through them is not.

“You’ve got a great ass. I’m just saying I think he’s noticed.”

“Doubtful. Anyway. What’s the status with closing tasks?”

“Stop using work as a shield!”

“Jimin, if that floor back there isn’t sparkling, I’m making you lick it clean.”

He gives you a simpering look of mockery. “Promise?”

“Ugh, gross, why are you like this?”

———————

The time passes with ease, in spite of the holiday harriedness. You are able to let Jimin go a half an hour before the store closes. It’s started to snow, and it is sticking faster than anticipated. With all of the stress of the day, you’d forgotten to double check the weather at all. The thought of him driving home in snow is stressful; the decision to let him leave early is made easier because of it.

You are not, however, expecting Yoongi to walk in earlier than his promised arrival time.

Some part of you had actually forgotten he was coming, in the hustle and bustle of cleaning. With the extra time after closing, you’d stayed on the clock and stress scrubbed everything in sight. You’d even forgotten that you’re still on the clock. You’ve not even noticed the sun go down.

But in he walks, with his beautiful black undercut and that attractive smirk and those large, deft hands of his.

“I—oh my god—I forgot you were coming,” you said, flustered. You’re up to your elbows in stainless steel polish at a hand sink.

He is wearing close fitting joggers with sneakers and a large, puffy coat, the strap of his bag thrown casually over his shoulder. The teeny silver hoop earrings he always wears glint in the moody cafe lighting. He’s pulled his beanie off his head already, and his hair is in disarray because of it. The thought that he might look like that after waking up, or even after other things crosses your mind; you feel your neck and scalp start to grow itchy with heat.

“I’m a little early, I’m sorry. Last job kicked me out early because of the weather, so I came straight here.”

“You should’ve called me.” Your brow furrows as you wash your hands. “You didn’t have to come in this weather at all. Machine’s not that important. You should go home before it gets worse out there.”

Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, and it’s as if you’re struck by lightning. His eyes have always been one of your favorite things about his appearance. They’re so incredibly dark and warm, you just want to sink into them like one might sink into a bath. They’re comforting to behold, even if it’s hard for you to look him in the eyes. Something about him makes you feel shy, in spite of the cordial relationship you have.

“It’s okay. I drive a Subaru. It handles great in the snow. Besides, it’s a busy time of year, I’d hate for you and your crew to get stressed because of a dead machine.”

You feel your cheeks heat. It feels good to have him care like that for your crew. Dare you think it even makes you feel a little special? The sensation feels strange, your heart throbbing in your chest with want as you look at him set his bag of tools on the counter.

You so wish you could get to know him more deeply, but he’s best kept at arms length, for the sake of your own heart. There’s no way this man would be into someone like you; not with your ample figure and your jaded attitude. The latter is a ruse to keep yourself from getting hurt, and you know that. Deep down you know that this dumb little crush is just not worth getting hurt over, but the heart wants what it wants regardless of how our minds feel. If a reasonable part of you wants to remain aloof and push him away to self-preserve, then so be it.

“Y/N, you good?” Yoongi is looking at you from across the counter as he shrugs off his heavy coat and places it at a nearby table.

“Yeah, sorry, long day. Little zoned out,” you lie. You ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms. You ignore the fact that he said your name and that you liked it probably too much. Fuck, why are you so hung up on this guy?

“You look drained,” he says quietly as he walks around the counter with a few tools in his hands. He’s wearing a large tee and a cardigan, both of which hang loosely off his lean frame, well past his waist. As he approaches the machine, he throws you another glance, and says, “You should go home. Do you think you can drive in this, or do you want to wait for a ride?”

God I’d love a ride. You push the thought away and shake your head:

“No, I live within walking distance. Thanks though.”

Yoongi gives you a little smile, showing a few of his straight-set teeth. “Really? That has to be nice. Saves on gas.”

“Yeah, it’s convenient for emergencies too since I’ve somehow ended up being the first call anymore.”

His smile fades. “Really? Is Dave really that absent?”

You nod, as you let your body fall back to rest against the counter. “Yeah, it’s been like this since I came on, to be honest. If the pay weren’t so good, I might mind more, but instead I’ve gotten soft for the babies.”

His smile is back, but this time, it’s more subtle. It’s almost as if he’s fighting it. “I guess that’s good, then. Sucks that you’re not even paid more though. You should consider asking for a raise since you’re essentially the manager.”

You shrug, and watch as he starts moving the porcelain cups off the top of the machine to get access to the removable panels below. Without thinking, you walk over and start to help him, standing shoulder to shoulder as the two of you move cups to the counter with care. More than once, your own hands brush against his, and you have to remind yourself to stay casual instead of letting your gaze linger on the finely veined flesh beneath his skin.

It feels like he’s putting off more heat than the machine, but you think it’s probably just in your head; you’re feeling hot yourself because of your nerves. Can he tell how nervous he makes you?

“So, any plans for tonight?” He says as you step away to let him lift the top panels away.

Before you can answer, you watch a wince pass over his face. He pulls his fingers away from the machine and starts looking around at the counters. Without thinking, you hand him the towel you were using to clean and watch as he uses it to touch the panels safely.

“Or are you just sticking around on the clock to milk Dave for all he’s worth?”

I’m just here to look at you.

“Oh, um.” You wrack your brain for something reasonable. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need before I go.”

He looks at you for a long moment, those dark eyes betraying nothing about what he might be thinking. You’re worried he might think you’re weird for going out of your way to make sure he’s got everything, that he might see straight through your excuse. Your heart seizes up for a moment as he sets down the things in his hands and leans into your space, your shoulders touching.

“I appreciate that. And I ... I appreciate you.” He murmurs the words, but he’s so close you hear them loud and clear. Every hair in your body stands on end when you meet the heat of his gaze.

Time stands still. The briefest of moments seems for its duration eternal. You break eye contact first, letting the suspended moment fall.

In a blink, Yoongi has his hands on the counter on either side of your hips, and he’s leaning into your space even further. His face is mere inches from yours. You’re not even sure you’re breathing as his eyes examines yours, as if he can see everything within you. What makes you tick, what makes you feel, even what thoughts you have about him. Your heart flutters helplessly beneath your ribs, but you fight the urge to run away from the emotions you’re feeling.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, trying to look away from his face, and failing miserably. “What are you doing?”

“What is this?” He asks. His eyes fall to your lips. His voice is low, scarcely above a mumble, but the words are as clear as day. “What are we doing? We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months.”

“I—um—”

Every single fucking circuit in your body is shorting out. Your nervous system is in a state of critical failure; every synapse is firing signals that do nothing except make your body vibrate faster, as if you’re trying to leave this plane of existence. You wish you could. Perhaps if you could you wouldn’t be cornered. Perhaps you wouldn’t be faced with confronting your poorly suppressed attraction.

His eyes keep searching your face, sometimes trying to hold your gaze, and sometimes sliding down to stare at your mouth. He blinks, and you watch him swallow, the knot of his throat bobbing underneath his fine skin. You’d forgotten how broad his shoulders are, in spite of his stature. He’s taller than you, but only just. In spite of it all, this position, the act of him leaning into your space like this .. it all makes you feel delicate and feminine for a moment. You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

“Can I kiss you?” The question is almost imperceptible, hardly registering until he glances back to your eyes, searching for an answer.

Some how, a synapse in your brain is able to fire correctly. “Please.”

Leaning into you comes to him easily. Your faces were already even with each other, and all he has to do is tilt his head a little and you’re kissing.

It starts out chaste. Your lips meet for a moment, and you focus feel the way you fit against his mouth; warm, wet, plush.

You soon realize that your lips fit like puzzle pieces, and you both start to respond to the movement of the other in kind. His mouth moves to nip at yours, you respond with a lick. He’s pressing his body against you, and there it is again. You just fit together. Your hand finds itself on his chest, taking a fistful of his shirt, as if to keep him tethered nearby. His hands find your waist, gripping you as he tongues hungrily at your mouth. It’s hungry. It’s messy. It’s as if this moment has slowed down the vibration of your particles. Every buzzing thought has slowed to a hum. You can’t get enough of it him.

It’s when he suddenly ruts his hips into yours, pushing your ass into the edge of the counter, that you realize how precariously your feelings are suspended in the moment. It’s been so long since you were last kissed. And even then, it was nothing like this. Yoongi is more than just a light rain to ease the drought; he’s a storm that brings floodwaters racing up banks and ditches.

The emotions welling up within you are wholly unexpected. His tongue is practically down your throat; you’re feasting on each other. It’s everything you’ve wanted for months, but it’s so much, too much, all at once.

You break away from the kiss with a little gasp. With a low chuckle, Yoongi starts pecking a line of kisses from your mouth to your jawline, his hands moving to your hips as he ruts into you again. He sucks in a breath as his fingertips grip your flesh and you whimper at the touch. It’s as if he really does want you.

That’s when the tears start to prickle in your eyes.

The hand you’ve placed on his chest releases his shirt and you push him away gently.

The confused look he gives you stings. He releases his grip on your hips immediately.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it this far. It was too far. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought—”

“It’s not you,” you say quietly. “I just—”

What could you say? That this was too much? That someone like him being attracted to you felt like a lie? A cruel joke?

“I have to go.”

Close enough.

———————

You’d never left work that quickly. You’d never been so glad to be blasted by cold air and snow when you step outside for the first time in hours.

Yoongi had been silent as you gathered your bag and coat from the back. He was silent when you clocked out, and he was silent as he watched you leave. This silence didn’t extend to his gaze, however. In the quiet, you could feel his dark eyes following you. The sensation was deafening.

The door clicks shut behind you as you walk away from the shop, shuffling your work boots through the snow. It’s cold and dry, and it’s already begun to blow into little drifts up against buildings and doors. The worst is still yet to come.

By the time you’re tapping your shoes off to go up to your apartment, your ears and nose are numb. Would that the same sensation could linger longer in your heart. Your hands can barely feel the cold metal of your key as you slide it into the lock. It’s only when you’ve closed the door behind you that you let the stillness in your heart stir.

You’ve sunk to your knees on the welcome mat with your back resting against the door; the sobs shake your frame as you try to let off pressure of holding them in. You don’t remember the last time you cried this hard.

You don’t get why you’re so upset! He’s the one who wanted to kiss you, he’s the one who asked, and you said yes because you wanted him to do it. Didn’t you?

Isn’t this the dream? To have some beautiful man who is way out of your league decide that you are in fact, contrary to your preconceived notions, within his league?

If this is the dream, then why does it hurt like this?

There is a small, pernicious part of you that’s muttering about how he only wanted to kiss you because you wanted it. It was just a token for you hold next to your heart, to say you’d kissed someone who physically weighs less than you or is more attractive than you. A pity kiss, or something like it. Nothing more.

The lingering taste of him in your mouth has soured, your mouth dry with regret.

You stand and walk over to your sink, reaching above for a glass for water. Chugging it in one go doesn’t take the feeling of his tongue away, but at least the dryness is gone.

You’ve emptied yourself out again. It always happens like this. Something fills within you and you can’t handle the sensation of trying to hold it all. Now you just feel exhausted. Strained. You think you might have the beginnings of a tension headache coming on. You probably need to eat something before crashing in bed and listening to sad music.

As you’re peeling off your jeans, your phone begins to vibrate. When you pick up your phone, your heart drops.

Yoongi is calling you.

Fuck.

———————

He hates how quiet and hoarse your voice sounds when you pick up the phone.

He’s not even sure if this plan is going to work.

Is he really concerned about getting home in this cold mess? Yes. Is he using this as an excuse to talk to you? Also yes. He wants the chance to apologize, but he also wants to avoid getting his car stuck in the snow. Yeah, it’s a Subaru, it handles snow fine, but it doesn’t make visibility or huge drifts manageable enough for him to risk the long drive it if he doesn’t have to. More importantly, he can’t forget the look on your face as he watched you leave. This is a gamble, and he knows it.

You repeat your greeting when he doesn’t answer back at first, which makes him sigh awkwardly, chuckling in embarrassment at himself.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted for a moment.”

“What’s up, Yoongi?” You sound strained, but you still picked up. You’re not ignoring him. That’s a start, perhaps even an improvement, from what he thought you might be thinking of him before the phone call. It’s either that or you’re spectacularly good at hiding your feelings. Given what Jimin’s told him in passing, he doubted that was the case.

“Um—” He’s nervous. Why on earth is he so nervous? “—I’m sorry to bug you, but the snow is coming down faster than I expected it would and visibility is low. I hate to ask this, but you said you live near by …”

He’s hoping he doesn’t have to spell it out. He’s hoping that this isn’t the second stupidest thing he’s done today.

You’re silent for a moment. Then, though it’s almost quiet enough for him to miss it, he hears you sigh.

“Do you need to crash at my place for the night?”

“I’m really sorry, but yeah, if you don’t mind.” Saying it out loud some how makes him feel worse. He’s imposing on you a second time. When did he become such a selfish bastard?

“It’s okay, the babies have all done it before. It happens.” He’s humbled by the admission, by the nonchalant way you seem to extend your kindness. This is the first big snowstorm of the year; what could the babies have needed to stay at yours for? Maybe he’d ask, just to be able to hear you speak.

Yoongi listens carefully as you give him the directions to your apartment. As he finishes packing his things and putting the machine back together, he hears his phone buzz and sees that you’ve texted the instructions to him as well. Your thoroughness is so attractive to him. It’s something he’d immediately noticed about you.

Well, that and the way your ass looks in those dark jeans you always wear.

You’d been on your hands and knees when he’d first met you, showing one of the “babies” where something or other was. You had filled the denim perfectly, each delicate curve of your legs caressed by the sturdy fabric. He’d never wanted to be a pair of jeans before. How could he have not noticed such a perfectly formed ass? That you were kind and focused and quite pretty on top of all of that only served to make you more intensely attractive to him.

He pulls on his coat and checks your instructions once more before zipping up and pulling his beanie on. It’s a fifteen minute walk but the wind’s even stronger now and the temperature’s dropped. He picked the wrong day to wear his thin joggers but at least his sneakers should get him there. With his bag thrown over his shoulder, Yoongi pushes through out into the cold. After making sure the shop’s door locked behind him, he sets out for your apartment.

———————

You’ve stripped your bedsheets already. They’re humming away in your washers.

It’s not that you think you’re suddenly about to get laid tonight. Quite the opposite. You’re not in the right headspace for that, and you’ve not been in it for a while. Not since your diagnosis, not since the breakup, not since you moved out. None of it. You haven’t talked to anyone about it. It was all so long ago.

It’s just that offering him the bed just seems like the right thing to do for a guest. Especially, you think, for a guest you’ve kissed. So the sheets go to the wash while you pull out fresh ones.

You look around your apartment to see what else needs to be cleaned, but thankfully, everything is in relative order. Your cleaning neuroses from work have long since carried over to your personal life. Something within you says that it’s likely a subconscious part of you looking for control, but you put the thought in a box and place it on a shelf for later. You have to get through tonight; you can figure out the rest tomorrow.

He’s probably hungry, and he’s been in a car for long periods of the day. You hope Yoongi doesn’t have high expectations of your domesticity or small talk. You’re not overly talkative on a good day, the service industry sapping you dry so that all you feel like doing at the end of a day is staring at a wall. Talking at this time in the evening is something you’ve grown unaccustomed to again. With the earlier events still hanging over your head, you’ve already given yourself permission to speak as little as is necessary.

You cross your tiny apartment and stand in the kitchen, thinking about what could be made from the smattering of pantry staples you have at hand. What does he even like? You think about how he seems to drink iced coffee like it’s plain water. Have you even seen him eat before?

Before you can ask yourself another question, there’s a timid knock at the door, and your heart plummets down to your toes.

You don’t feel prepared to see him after the kissing. You made out with him in the shop, you fucking idiot. That’s not only ill-advised for your emotional state but that’s got to be some sort of health code violation as well. Now you’re both a victim of your heart and a petty criminal on top of that.

You look down at your feet. You’ve put on the fuzzy socks you prefer when you feel sad, and you’re wearing your softest, most worn out pair of sweats. Fuck, you forgot that you took off your bra. Do you need to go put one on?

You’re so grossly unprepared to face him again. Is it too late to send him away?

There’s another knock at the door, a little more insistent this time.

It’s too late, isn’t it?

———————

Yoongi had no idea what to expect of your little apartment. What he finds pleases him nonetheless. Your place is a little spare, but it’s clear that you’ve spent time buying nice second hand furniture, and it’s also clear that you detest clutter. The space is clean and warm, and it smells like you, just without the scent of coffee you had lingering in your hair before. There’s a set of bookshelves in one corner, filled neatly with all sorts of different volumes. Next to it is a little record player, the shelf underneath it housing a small collection of albums. There’s nothing playing right now, but maybe, if he could ever get you to come out of your shell, you’d pick something interesting to put on. The place is nice. He likes it, and he thinks it suits you.

You seem nervous. He can see it in your posture, even though he can tell you’re being scrupulous about not fiddling with something in your hands or showing anything on your face. He remembers overhearing you say to one of the babies to “never let them see you sweat.” It appears you are trying to put on the same front with him.

It had taken you a while to answer the door. For a moment he thought he’d had the wrong apartment number, and just as he was about to call, you opened it, looking harried before blinking the distress away.

“Come in,” you’d said, pointing to where he could leave his wet sneakers, and taking his coat from him to hang it on a hook next to yours.

And now he was watching you look through your cupboards, your front brushing the edges of the counters as you stand on your tip toes to see what they contain.

It’s grossly unfair that you look so fucking good in those sweatpants. No one’s ass should look that good in sweats. The way your crew neck sweatshirt drapes about your high natural waist when you lift your arms is decadent. It makes him think of the Bernini statues his nerdy best friend sometimes gushes about. He rips his gaze away to see that you’re stretching for something just out of reach, your fingertips brushing against the glass jar, and pushing it further away in the struggle.

He watches you huff in frustration and try to reach a little further. He’s taken, for a moment, by how cute you look while reaching for something height up. Before you can fail again, Yoongi steps behind you, places a hand at the small of your back, and reaches for the little spice bottle.

Yeah, he’s not that much taller than you, but his arms are longer, his hands just a little bigger. Every millimeter makes a difference, and he’s able to reach it with ease.

You smell good. There’s the familiar hint of coffee still, layered in with whatever perfume or product or hormones that make you smell like you. He’s in and out of shops so frequently that he can hardly smell the coffee anymore, but he can still smell it on you mingling with everything else and he loves it.

Yoongi lingers a little too long at your side, and he knows it. The warmth of your body beneath his fingertips is comforting and he knows it shouldn’t be. The way your body feels pressed against his is addictive and he knows it shouldn’t be, even if he’s coming to crave it. The two of you hardly know each other, and you’ve only interacted in work settings. You look at him, something strange in your eyes. Yoongi is thankful that he catches himself before he can lean in and do something he will definitely regret.

“So, um, are you hungry at all?”

Yoongi blinks, and then says, “Yes, actually. I’m starving.”

“Is there anything you like? I think I’ve got stuff for pasta if you like that.”

“Yeah, I like pasta.” He looks down to see that he’s still holding the little jar in his hand. The label says “silk chili flakes” and it’s filled with a coarse red powder. “Thinking spicy?”

“If that’s okay …” You seem timid, or unsure. “I’ve got a head of garlic and plenty of olive oil, so maybe—”

“Aglio e olio?” Yoongi guesses before you finish. His heart warms when he sees a little smile finally play on your lips. Okay, this was good. More of whatever that interaction was, and maybe he can make up for his mistakes in the coffee shop.

“Yeah, great minds think alike I guess.” Your voice sounds lighter now, and you seem just slightly less guarded.

“It’s a good dish. Do you make it often?”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Yoongi watches as you rifle around a bit more, looking for a package of spaghetti. You smile again when you find it, and he feels his heart jump.

God, he feels like an utter fool. He’s fucked things up with you so badly. And now he’s head over heels and up a creek without a paddle.

“Where’s your garlic?” He asks gently. “I can start slicing it if you’d like.”

You nod and open a cabinet under the counter while he reaches for a knife from the magnetic strip on your wall. That you have a magnetic strip instead of a knife block—or worse, a drawer—is enough for him to want to get down on his knees and either propose marriage or eat you out until both of you are crying. He’d be very okay with both.

“Cutting board?” He’s not noticed one, but when you point your finger at a large slab of wood sitting out on your counter, he feels stupid. So much for the observant eyes of Yoongi Min, he thinks darkly. Being around you is like having accidental blinders; his gaze is naturally drawn to you rather than anything else he’s supposed to focus on.

You hand him a little basket filled with garlic heads. He starts carefully breaking one down and peeling all of the cloves with care. He can hear you at the sink filling a pot of water, and suddenly you’re lifting it carefully to the stove. He watches as you add a generous palmful of salt. Fuck, it’s so sexy that you know exactly what you’re doing both here. It makes him want to cook with you, instead of for you. No one he’d been with before knew how to cook. He loves it when someone works with confidence. Every moment spent here with you is just another nail in the coffin that houses his heart.

Once you’ve set the water to boil, you peak carefully over his shoulder. He notices the way that you avoid touching him.

“Everything looking okay?” He asks as he starts slicing a slightly crushed clove. His work is clean and neat; he knows what he’s doing. But he wants to hear you confirm it, if he can.

“Just making sure that you’re holding the knife correctly.”

Yoongi shrugs off his disappointment. “Are my knife skills up to par?” He tries to sound like he’s joking.

“Your slicing is fine but—” You reach over and gently take the knife from him, pinching the base of the blade at the point where it connects with the tang, and then wrapping the rest of your fingers around the handle. “—You want to make sure you like, choke up on the blade. It gives you better control. Safer, and whatnot.”

Yoongi is at a loss. On the one hand, he hates being corrected about anything, however gently it’s done. On the other hand, you seem really in your element and that is intensely attractive to him.

“What?” You’re looking at him now, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Ah.” He feels his face and neck heat. He shouldn’t have been staring. “I, uh, I’m just kind of impressed is all. You seem to really know your shit.” Always with the understatements, Min.

He watches as you bite your bottom lip and turn back to the stove to check on the status of the pot of water. Before you can do anything else, however, a buzzer goes off somewhere in the tiny apartment, and you excuse yourself to go find it.

———————

You take the moment you desperately need when you step away from the kitchen to switch your sheets to the dryer. Like so many things tonight, you’re just not sure why the fuck you’re doing any of this. You should’ve said no to all of it. The kiss. Him coming over. You shouldn’t have called him about the machine, and Jimin should have stayed instead of you, keeping your coworkers safe be damned. What about you? What about your own wellbeing? Who was going to keep your heart safe?

You should’ve guarded your heart better. You should have refortified the walls. You should’ve said no even though every single cell and neuron in your body was screaming yes.

You’re gripping the door of the dryer tightly, hunched over with your whole body tensed to keep from crying yet again, when you hear something rustle behind you.

“Is everything alright?” Yoongi’s voice is low and raspy, as if he’s trying to whisper but speak casually at that same time.

You slam the dryer shut, harder than you intended, and straighten up to set the timer and turn it on.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie, your voice sounding hollow, even to yourself, as you try to sound even vaguely pleasant.

“Don’t—” His protest is sudden and harsh enough that it causes you to whip around with worry. His mouth is open, as if he’s mulling over his words before speaking them. Even so, he looks irritated. He sighs.

“Don’t lie like that. I can tell you’re upset,” he say finally, his shoulders relaxing as if he’d been holding it in. “I know I fucked up back there … at the shop … I’m so sorry.”

You look at him and the way he’s shifting his weight between his feet, how he can’t keep his hands quite still and keeps fiddling with the hem of his shirt or the hoops in his ears.

“You asked,” you say quietly. “And I said yes.”

“You did,” he nods, his eyes finding yours for a moment before you look away, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You did. You had wanted it so badly. “Was it something I did wrong? Was I too forward? Was I—“

“No! No … it’s me, not you. You were good,” you pause for a moment, thinking about the kiss you’d shared. Warmth trickles down into your abdomen and settles. “You were really good.”

“Then why did you—”

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I need something in my stomach first.” You hope the deflection is enough to keep him at bay, at least until you can go to sleep and let yourself just feel and be alone.

He gives you a tight lipped look, but relents. “Okay.”

———————

The making of dinner goes really well. You’re pleased and perturbed by how well you and Yoongi get on in the kitchen. He is, unsurprisingly, very competent and makes quick work of any task you give him with his long, skilled fingers. Watching him toss the pasta with the oil in the panusing just a flick of his wrist was strangely arousing experience, as was watching him carefully plate the food into the bowls you’d put out. Being in a strange kitchen seemed to have no effect on his stress level and honestly, that helped bring down your own stress level a bit.

“Is carbonated water okay? I don’t have any wine,” you ask, looking up from your open fridge.

“Whatever you have is fine with me. I’ve intruded on your space enough today,” he says with a tense laugh while he sets the bowls at your breakfast bar. His mouth his stretched into a soft, goofy grin when he looks at you.

You fight smiling back, but the joke is pretty funny. For a moment you forget that you’re floundering in a spiral of anxiety, and it’s because of him that you can almost forget. But it’s also because of him that you’ve had to fight your feelings. You tuck the conflict away to save for later.

Eating dinner goes almost as well as making it did, but for the strange silence that has settled over the two of you. Some part of you thinks this is okay; eating long strands of pasta is decidedly unsexy, even if the man sitting a few feet away at your breakfast bar is incredibly attractive doing almost anything. The silence means you don’t have to constantly look at each other while you eat. And for a moment, you find comfort in that.

That moment doesn’t last long. Once he’s done eating, he scrolls through his phone for a few minutes, before standing and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

He turns and gives you a little smile, “Sit. It’s okay, you cooked dinner. The least I can do is clean up.”

“But you …” Helped. You let your words trail off into a sigh as he turns the faucet on. It’s kind of nice, if you’re being honest with yourself. Your hands are fried from service work, your skin dry and prone to cracking, especially in weather like this. Not having to stick them under a stream of water for once would be nice.

You watch as Yoongi begins to wash up, handling each dish like you’d seen him handle parts of a machine: casually, but with care, as if what he’s doing isn’t delicate but is instead something that comes as naturally as breathing. He carries himself with ease. Even now, even here.

You envy it, really. You’ve never considered yourself graceful, and watching Yoongi be confident in spite of the weird situation between the two of you, you can’t help but wonder if something’s just wrong with you.

You know there’s not actually anything wrong, but … it does still feel like it every once in a while. It sucks.

“Hey, you okay?”

You look up to see Yoongi drying his hands on your dish towel. The bowls are set in your dish rack to dry, the pot and pan left to soak in the sink. He hangs the towel on the oven rail before turning back to you.

He leans on the counter with his arms crossed. He’s waiting for a response from you, you realize, but you’re not sure what to say.

“I …”

Are you okay?

“Not really,” you say, your voice quiet. “But I’ll get over it.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you know.” You bite your lip and stare at the linoleum countertop in front of you as you listen to him continue. “You shouldn’t just ignore things that bother you like that. You can’t just ignore or hide that shit.”

The little cracks in your facade are beginning to spread under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t like talking about this. You wouldn’t understand.” You’re beginning to feel small, but not in a good way. Not in the way that you want.

You look up to see Yoongi close his eyes and sigh. His words are gravely as he lets his voice become quiet. “I understand not wanting to talk about something that hurts. I get it. But holding it in like you’re doing is just going to hold you back as well.”

“Hold me back from what?”

“Well, me, for one.”

You meet his gaze, dumbfounded.

“Not sure if you can tell, but I kind of like you?” His eyes are soft, his brow hard with tension. Always a mix of soft and hard with him. “I don’t want you to be hurting, and it’s clear something is hurting you. And at the risk of seeming forward, that something is what’s standing between us.“

He’s read you like a book. Like a map. Like the lines of a palm.

“It’s not going to scare me off,” he continues. “I promise it won’t. But I don’t want to break down a wall if you don’t want me do. That’s not how I work. I just … you shouldn’t have to hold this in. Fuck how I feel—eh, fuck, I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

The distance between you is short but the gap seems insurmountable with all of the baggage you’re laden with. You feel yourself sinking further into your seat as you think about why you couldn’t keep kissing him. The diagnosis. The break up. The move. All of the things that are wrong with you even though they’re not your fault. It still feels like they’re your fault anyway.

The gap widens before your eyes.

“Hey, stay with me, Y/N.”

“Yoongi, I—”

The tears are coming again as he rounds your counter and sits next to you again. Tentatively, he reaches out and places his hand over yours where it rests on your leg. It’s cold, the sensation sends chills up your spine.

Unlike the first time, there’s no where to run away from him.

“Talk to me, don’t talk to me. I don’t care. But don’t hold it in. Please.” He says quietly, pressing your hand between his two, engulfing it. Those hands again. You’re still in awe of the big, beautiful hands that encase your own as if it’s the most natural thing there is.

Is this how puzzle pieces feel when they find a piece that seems to fit them? Natural? Inevitable?

And with that, the cracks give, and the floods begin anew. Sometimes to ease the destruction, you just have to stop fighting it.

———————

Yoongi insists on taking the couch, even when you insist on him taking the bed. He won’t take the offer even when you mention clean sheets, and he’s unshaken by your warnings of the clunky fridge or the weird light that shines through some of the window.

“I’m not a light sleeper and a couch is not the worst place I’ve slept before. It’s fine. You’re the one who’s been on your feet all day, so you’re the one who needs the better support.”

It’s frustrating of him, and it goes against your natural instincts as the caregiver friend, but you let it go after that. He’s not wrong. For a moment, you consider telling him that you could share the bed if he wanted. You know this would be foolish, in the end. He’s rejected the bed, and he rejected your offer of a clean set of clothes to sleep in. You don’t have the heart to let him reject still another offer of hospitality and besides, you want to be able to cry yourself to sleep in peace.

After handing him a pile of blankets and a pillow off your bed, you bid him goodnight.

It takes what feels like hours to let yourself relax into your fresh sheets, but you finally do. Your cheeks are coated in the grime of your tears.

———————

Sleeping on the couch wasn’t terrible because it was uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was rather nice. Neither the lights, nor the loud fridge bothered Yoongi much at all, years living with loud roommates having trained him to tune out most annoying night noises. No, the thing that made sleeping on the couch terrible was hearing the faintest sobs coming from the other side of your thin bedroom wall.

It hurts to hear you hurting. He feels like he’s started something between you that neither of you can finish, not until either your walls come down or you drift apart back to where it all started. Quiet looks, furtive glances. The thought of starting fresh with you is appealing, but that’s not what would happen. Now that whatever it is between you is out in the open, it’ll either flourish, or it’ll fester. Right now Yoongi’s money is on the later.

When you do finally stop crying, the only thing that lets him relax enough to sleep is looking through the window at the orange sky and watching the large snowflakes fall.

———————

Yoongi wakes up before you, the warmth of sunlight easing him into consciousness before he can remember where he is. For a moment, he thinks he’s nineteen again and crashing on Hoseok’s couch but, no, he’s in your apartment. You’re clean, but not spartan.

It’s almost 8 am. He’s a bit late getting up it seems, judging by the number of notifications on his phone.

For several minutes, he sits on the couch, combing through work emails and texts and voicemails in an attempt to triage the madness. Why there’s so many on a snow day, he’s not sure, but “the hustle never stops,” or whatever. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll be born as a rock in the next life. Try emailing a chunk of granite at 5 am in the morning. See if that makes service come faster.

By the time 8:15 comes around, he’s not heard you stir, but he knows he needs to get going soon or he might start getting more angry calls. The other techs can handle him lingering a little longer to make some coffee, however, so he trots into the kitchen after making a stop at the bathroom.

Your coffee grinder sits on the counter next to your Chemex and a partially full bag of coffee from the shop. You even have a dedicated coffee scale nearby. He’s surprised you’ve got a Baratza; it’s the model to have, but it can be pricy even for baristas to buy. There’s no doubt that you prioritize your craft, that’s for sure. God, you’re so fucking hot.

Hopefully it’s calibrated. If it isn’t, he could offer to do it for you. Might be a nice excuse to see you again.

The goosenecked kettle is sitting on your stove, so he fills it and sets it back on the burner to heat. He then starts weighing out beans and running a few through to see what the settings look like.

Minutes pass. Neither the whistle of the boiling water nor the grating hum of the grinder wake you. Yoongi keeps expecting you to come out of your room as he’s pouring, but you never do. He’s starting to feel bad about using your coffee and equipment, but he can always gift you a fresh bag of beans to compensate. It’s something he’s wanted to do for a while. Maybe this is the excuse he needs.

He finds mugs and moves to the breakfast bar, placing the chemex next to himself. He tries to decide if he should wake you, but decides against it. If you’d cried yourself to sleep, you probably needed the rest. That shit is exhausting for anyone.

Yoongi pours a cup of coffee for himself, and sits in silence.

———————

It feels like you’ve been hit by a freight train. You slept like the dead, but the dead get better sleep than whatever the fuck you just woke up from.

Shit. You have company.

You glance at your phone and sigh at the time. It’s almost nine. How the fuck did you manage to sleep that far into the morning?

The events of the day prior replay in a flash behind your eyes, and ah, right … that’s why you’re more of a mess than usual today.

When you finally stumble out of your bedroom, feeling grossly unprepared for talking to another human so soon, you see that there’s no one to talk to at all.

The dishes left in the sink are washed and drying on a few towels on the counters. The blankets you’d given him are folded and placed on the coffee table. Even the bathroom bears a finger print of his in the form of a second toothbrush, one of your spares, sitting with yours in the stand.

It’s when you leave the bathroom that you see there’s coffee sitting in a chemex, an empty mug next to it. There’s a note tucked under the mug, written on paper from the magnetic notepad on your fridge.

When you read it, your heart squeezes. It’s from Yoongi. He hopes you slept well, and he wants to talk again at some point. He couldn’t stay any later because he kept getting work calls and didn’t want to disturb you. No judgment if you end up microwaving the coffee. I hope it tastes alright.

Needs must,

Yoongi.

thank you for reading! drop me an ask and tell me what you think. find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. my work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. thank you.

“Do me a favour, call the police and tell them 3 young girls are being stalked by 5 grown men. Give them this address, I’ll bring the girls back here.” You stated, throwing a handful of cash at the man. “Keep the change!”

Obviously highly over paying, but that wasn’t the issue at the moment. You grab your snacks and shove them into your hoodie pockets, running to the glass door, throwing it open to check on the girls.

A block and a half you see the girls huddling together, clearly they had noticed the creepy men following them, they sneak down an alleyway trying to dodge the men and get away quickly. But you know better, that’s a dead end. No cameras, no windows, and all the shops there are long closed for the day.

You watch the men following the girls out of view. You take off in a full sprint. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, you knew what was gonna happen and there was no way you’d let it play out as the men wanted.

Rounding the corner, the 5 men had surrounded the school girls. The 3 of them huddling together.

You slowed your pace, hearing the men usher “it’s ok, we just want to play”, “come with us, we can buy you food” and other reassurances.

The girls shaking their heads frantically, still giving polite “no thank you”s. Even in their situation.

You walk at a steady pace, confidently moving past two of the men. Stopping in front of the girls, turning to face the men.

“I think it’s best if we all go home for the day” You state slowly. Voice dropping lowly, confidence and intimidation seeping past your lips.

“And I think you should leave this alone, little girl.” One of the men stated, leaning his face a little too close to yours. His hand coming up and resting on your shoulder.

Peering up from the brim of your hat, you make eye contact. A small snarl passes your lips, a grin hides under your mask. As the skies overcast and the rain begins to pour down over you.

💐⛓💐⛓

This is the fourth time this week these letters have been sent to the BigHit building. At first it was just a general set of vague angry hateful words, but over a few months things have gotten progressively worse.

The words now target specific members with threats beyond anyone’s twisted, evil imagination.

Bang Pd knew he couldn’t take these threats lightly. They were threatening the lives of his second family. He realized shortly after they started, he had to tell the boys what was going on. And why he had to cancel appearances and tighten security. He’d already doubled the security team, but now he was on the verge of quadrupling it.

Looking around his office, looking at the scared faces of the young men. The concerned faces of the employees he had entrusted to look after the precious lives of the members.

This couldn’t last forever. He had to do something.

💐⛓💐⛓

“Thank you”

One of the girls manages to croak at you, once they had received blankets from the shop worker.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you’re all ok” You reassure them, kneeling in front of them as the youngest one grasps your hand tightly.

Slight bruising begins to form under your mask. You were sure the bruising on your ribs would fully show tomorrow. Thankfully you only had one blow to your right cheekbone to deal with. At least the only one visible.

“The police are almost here” The worker informs you rounding a sale stand. You nod at him. He knows you can't stick around for long now.

“I have to go.” You tell the girls, giving the hand in yours a quick squeeze before getting to your feet. “You point to where the alley is ok? And tell them exactly what happened. But I can’t be here when they arrive.”

You nod at the worker. Before jogging over to the door before hearing a “thank you again Miss!” As you sprint out into the dark wet night.

💐⛓💐⛓

He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where to turn. They all looked at him for answers. They could no longer leave their dorm. Prisoners in a place they once called home. He could see it breaking them, each of them. They had already been through such hardships to get them to this point, why couldn’t it be enough? Why couldn’t these young men catch a break?

Unable to make eye contact with anyone, his eyes glance to his bookshelves. On the top shelf, is a picture in an old wood frame. A picture of himself, an older gentleman and a young girl about 16/17 years old.

Realization then dawned on him.

“I need to make a phone call.” He states to the ever so silent room. “I’ll let you know about it after. You boys should go home, it’s getting really late.”

Shoes echo in the room as they all leave him alone with his thoughts. Goodbyes unheard by the man now drenched in sweat, fists gripped tightly to his desk. This could be a terrible idea, one of his worst, but he had to try.

There was only one person capable of helping him now, to keep his boys safe.

But at what cost?

💐⛓💐⛓

“Mistress, you cannot keep playing this game. It is too dangerous.” Your butler Chul-soo, holds out his hands for you to take off your drenched sweater and cap.

“Relax Soo. They didn’t see me, and the girls won’t say anything either.” Sliding the now cold clothing off your body creating goosebumps along your skin. The shop worker undoubtedly called him and told him of your escapades. The shop owner being a friend of his. One of the only reasons he didn’t heckle you about your late night escapades to find snacks.

“What would the master think about all of this?” He sighs, disappointment and worry are evident in his voice and on his face.

“Really? What do you want me to say?” You sharply reply. “They needed help and I helped them. That’s all. Stop acting like I’m out there looking for this.”

You know it’s not his fault, he worries. His worries are valid, but he also knows you wouldn’t be doing this on purpose. You had bigger issues to deal with.

You shoot him an apologetic look before turning to walk away, down the large main hallway.

“Mr. Bang called. He says he has a favour to ask of you.” He speaks after you.

“I’ll return his call in my office.” You wave over your shoulder.

💐⛓💐⛓

“What are we waiting for?”

“Boys ssshhhhh.” Hitman Bang silences the members completely.

Heels echo through the hall into the drawing room. A steady pace getting louder.

He frantically looks at the boys.

“I need you all to listen to me. This person is the only one who can help, for now you must keep quiet and let me talk. Understood.” It wasn’t a question. All murmur an agreement.

Bang had dragged them all over to a large unmarked office building just after lunch. Telling them the bare minimum to get them to not question his motives. Understanding they all had an appointment to keep.

However, what did strike them as odd was when their high security detail didn’t follow them into the building. Instructed to stay with the cars underground, they followed 8 largely built men in suits, up to the top floor. They expected more floor to ceiling windows, just like the rest of the building was lined with, but the top floor was more blocked off from the outside. 36 floors up, a large office in the back. The room itself contains a large oak desk, bookcases lining behind the leather chair at the desk and two 6 seater set couches facing each other. The lights were dim and shades drawn down.

This wasn't what they thought this appointment would be. They still had so many unanswered questions. Especially after being ushered into the room, the door shutting behind them with no explanation.

The heels click just outside the door, muffled voices can be heard. Bang ushers all the boys to stand.

The tension weighs heavy in the room. The boys, unknowing as to who is going to walk through the door and why they seemingly had Bang extremely nervous. Terrified even.

💐⛓💐⛓

“Bang!” You greet cheerfully upon entering. Eyes lighting up to see the older man. He steps past the members and meets you halfway. Offering his arms out to you for a hug. “It’s been too long.”

“It has. You are looking well.” Bang offers releasing you. “I am sorry to hear about your father.”

“Ah, yes thank you.” You motion to the couch. “Please have a seat.”

You move over to the adjacent couch. Sliding your coat off, handing it to one of the men that followed you into the room. You take your seat, crossing one leg over the other. Waiting for the men to take their seats before continuing.

“Has it really been 6 years already?” You sigh looking at the man. Not sparing a glance at the gorgeous figures proceeding to sit on the couch. All of whom looked at you with mouth agape, clearly you weren’t what they were expecting. You force yourself to not smirk at their not so subtle reactions to you.

“I almost can’t believe it myself.” Bang laughs reminiscently but still slightly guarded.

“You’ve done well.” You smile fondly. Allowing yourself to look over each of the men. Nodding to yourself. “They’ve done well.”

“They have.” Bang agrees wholeheartedly. He was overwhelmingly proud of the members of BTS. They worked harder than anyone he’s ever had the pleasure of working with. Well, except you. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you.”

“Yes, you have a favour to ask of me.” You nodded to yourself. You had heard things from your contacts. You already knew what was going on, but it was best to keep exactly what you knew a secret for now. “I would presume it has to do with the threat against them.”

“So you’ve heard.” He sighs defeatedly.

“I keep my ears peeled at all times for you... and them,” You explain slowly, pausing a moment to really let your words sink into the older man. “My first investment will always hold a special place in my heart.”

“And I thank you for that. You’ve done so much for us all, as a company we owe you so much.” He replies hurriedly.

“Speaking of owe…. You want to ask a favour even with the debt you owe. Having never been collected from in all these years, yet here you are asking for a favour.”

Bang grips his pant legs until his knuckles turned white.This was what he was worried about. That you would seek collection before helping, or even refusing to help completely.

“And I am forever thankful to your father for that. We were able to build and grow from his generosity.” Bows his head slightly.

Your eyes narrow at the top of his head. “I assume, the favour would be protection. Protection and retrieval.” You redirect.

“Yes.” He continues his bow.

“First-” A smirk slowly breaking on your face. “I think an introduction is in order, formally. I’d like to meet these members of yours.”

“Of course!” Bang abruptly sits up. He nudges Namjoons elbow with his own. Clearly all of the members were beyond confused about Bangs interaction with you. There were definitely things they didn't know about.

“Uhm, I am Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Seokjin.”

“Min Yoongi”

“Jung Heosok”

“Park Jimin”

“Kim Taehyung”

“Jeon Jungkook”

“Hello Boys.” You nod at them. “You can call me Sphinx.”

“For you Bang. I will honour this favour.” You say looking back to him.

“Thank you-” He bows again quickly before worry spreads through his features and his posture.

“This debt.” You begin slowly. “My father left it to me to decide what shall be done with it. I am afraid with all of your assets and the company itself...it is not enough to cover the interest alone.”

“However, as I have said I have maintained a watch over them. They are exceedingly worthy of every penny.”

Bang holds his breath. Waiting for you to demand a timeline for payment. He knows he would lose everything if you demanded it all up front. He wouldn’t be able to save himself, nor the boys. This debt would hang on them as well.

“Consider it void.”

His eyes widened.

“V-v-v” He can’t believe it. Were you really serious about this? That was a lot of money to brush away. To never see a dime of.

“Yes.” You had made up your mind long ago. “These boys earned everything they did. I don’t see a reason to cash in on their hard work.”

“But-”

“No arguments. I’ve already decided.” You wave him away, “Now, give me a couple days to sort out my current affair and then we'll talk about adequate protection and discuss a plan.”

💐⛓💐⛓

Once again the boys are ushered into Bangs office. The older hasn't stopped shaking since leaving your office.

None of the boys knew what to say. They didn’t know what they could say.

Bang collapses on his chair. Body completely deflating, a shaky breaky breath turning into a hysterical chuckle. Hand coming up to remove his glasses, wiping the sweat away with his sleeve and replacing them again.

He looks at the boys, some truth finally breaching the worry in their thoughts.

“Years ago, before you debuted. Hell, before RM joined the company we were in some serious financial trouble. But one by one this picture of you all was coming together, I had the gut feeling that I needed to give my everything for this group. But I had run out of options….” He begins. “To be able to give you what we need and to not lose everything, I borrowed a lot of money from someone. I had heard his name from an associate at the time, he knew of this man snd how to get into contact. I didn’t know what else to do at the time. So I contacted him, set an appointment. Brought videos of your practices and vocal rehearsals, everything I could to convince them to loan me enough money to keep everything afloat.”

All of the members were completely stunned. They knew Bang was struggling, it was one of the reasons they worked so hard to be noticed. To receive time slots on TV and never complain about the grueling practice. But this...this they never would have guessed.

“He agreed. I was loaned everything I needed to keep the business going, get you guys performance outfits, meals, bookings, hotel rooms, choreographers, stylists, PAs…. I mean everything. I’ve kept in contact with him all these years, he’s never demanded a collection. He never brought it up, just asked for updates on how you were doing. I offered tickets to your shows, but he always said that he would just buy them. As far as I know, he never accepted freebies for anything, but I was informed that there was an account under his last name that ordered merch, albums and tickets.”

“He passed away just over a year ago. But the account still ordered things. Then I remembered he had an adopted daughter, around the same age as you guys. He always talked about her, about how one day she would take over his business.”

Nodding to himself, he recounts all the stories he had heard of you. The meetings you attended when he had lunch with your father, handing over videos of BTS’s growth and business incline. Your father always seemingly handing it right to you, and you would sit there and watch and listen. Silently memorizing everything you could before handing it back to Bang. Only then for you to talk about your schooling and your after school adventures you would force your body guard through. He saw you go from a shy young girl to a strong, business minded woman, who your father was undoubtedly proud of.

“That was the woman we met today. The woman who has completely voided our debt.” He sighed still in disbelief.

“How much was the debt?” Namjoons voice was the first to break into the silent awkward tension.

“Let's just say. I would lose everything…. This company, my house…..I wouldn’t have enough to cover everything….”

“And if we helped?” Yoongi asks suspiciously from the back of the room.

He pauses before he answers, momentarily thinking through just how devastating it would have been if you had decided any other outcome. But he stands firm, locking eyes with Yoongi, letting them know just how terrifying it would be.

“You’d all be ruined too.”

💐⛓💐⛓

“Listen very closely Mr. Gwan, if your son ever comes into contact with Miss Kem again. I cannot promise the longevity of his life.” You state icily. Your words come out slow and dark.

“Are you trying to threaten me?” His voice raises an octave as he abruptly stumbles to his feet. Chair falling backwards.

“You, I am not.” Your words coming out calmer than you actually were. “It is a promise for your son. For you however, I will say this. Our companies have done business for the past 12 years, we have worked well together. But-”

Standing slowly you prowl around your desk, eyes never leaving his. Fingertips ghosting behind you on the oak.

“Do not think you have placed a veil over my eyes to your backhanded business exchanges. I am well aware of what you have been doing on the side and though I do not agree, I have chosen to turn a blind eye. Your warning is this, I will not hesitate to pull the plug on all of our proceedings.” You stand in front of him. Shoulders square, eyes shooting daggers into him. You can see the panic on his face, the shock of understanding.

“Now, for the time being. Before I lose any respect I might still have for you, and our business, you will leave my office now.”

Flicking your wrist you signal for the 2 large men to escort the pathetic man out of your office.

“No. Wait!” He barks as he’s dragged out of the room.

You collapse back into your chair, releasing a deep breath making you feel momentarily dizzy.

Hopefully your warning would be heeded. Either he taught his son right from wrong or it would cost him his life.

Gathering yourself, you reach for the phone on your desk. Now that that was dealt with it was time to talk to Bang about a plan for his members.

💐⛓💐⛓

“I know this isn’t ideal boys, but she’s offering to keep you safe and track down these people.” Bang tries to reassure the members from the driver's seat of the unmarked van. “You just have to stay here until they’re caught. Then you can go back to before.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he can see all of the young men sitting tensely in their seats. Jungkook in the middle right side chews on his cheek. Jhope shifts nervously next to him. Jin unable to find anything to say to lighten the tension, hands fidget in his lap. Taehyung sitting center in the far back, holding both Yoongi and Jimins hands as they in turn stare blankly outside the windows. RM sitting in the passenger's seat, jaw extending as he falls deeper and deeper in thought.

It was after 7pm by the time the van turned onto your long gravel driveway. Somehow being shrouded in the dark made everything seem so much more frightening to them.

Pulling up alongside the large old house, Bnag PD brings the van to a stop. Jungkook peers up at the old building. Making out your figure in one of the dimly lit upstairs rooms, he loses focus on you as another figure pulls the curtains shut. Sitting back in his seat he faces the front again.

“We can do this right?” Bang asks, turning to face the group. “Together?”

The boys had so many more questions for their Boss. What debt did he owe? Who was this woman? And what exactly does she do?

One by one they nodded their heads in agreement. If Bang trusted you, then so would they.

“Together.” RM spoke for the group.

Breathing in deeply to steady himself, Bang exited the van. The members follow suit. As they stood in front of the intimidating building the front doors opened slowly. A gentleman in a neatly pressed suit appears, followed by several men dressed in only black behind him.

“Mr. Bang. Gentleman.” The older man bows to the startled cluster of men. “My name is Chul-soo, and I am here to escort you to your rooms for your stay. Mistress is sorry she can’t be here to do it herself, but she’s tied up in some unavoidable business.”

💐⛓💐⛓

You had issued a second warning to Mr. Gwan over a week ago. This time, it seemed that they were listening to your words more carefully.

You had come home late from the office, not seeing the boys but hearing them in the kitchen as you made your way up the large staircase to your master bedroom.

Slipping out of your suit from the day, you opt for your comfiest grey sweats and black tank. Bare feet finding your slippers that you chucked under your bed this morning.

Briefly stretching your stiff muscles, you make your way out of your room down the hallway to the large staircase. The kitchen now silent, as you wander in, the noise has migrated back to the media room.

You hadn’t eaten in a few hours, but it was late, so you opted for a snack of your favourite chips you had hidden from the kitchen staff.

Snaking the bag out of its hiding spot under the sink, you drag your feet back towards the stairs. You weren’t tired and you’d normally binge watch this new animation you were watching. However, you preferred to watch it in the media room with the big comfy couch, dim lights, surround sound and large TV.

Unfortunately tonight your phone would have to do.

As you pass the media room you hear arguing between the members.

“Well what do you want to watch then?”

“Everything we’ve suggested you’ve all said no.”

“You’ve only suggested two things! That’s hardly giving any options.”

“Look, we've all agreed on an animation. We’ve narrowed it down this far.”

Leaning against the open pillar in the media room, you muffle a laugh. They hadn’t noticed your presence, amusement plastered on your face as you continued munching quietly on your chips.

“Kibo and the age of Wonderbeasts, is pretty good.” You eventually interject.

They all fall silent. Taehyung peers over his shoulder at you before whispering something to the members closest. You roll your eyes at their obvious flustered states.

You remove yourself from the pillar and walk over to the back of the couch. Leaning over your snag the remote out of Yoongi's hand, clicking on the thumbnail of the show. Hitting the start from episode one option.

No one says anything as the intro music starts. You round the couch, flopping down, feet up on the coffee table. Right between Yoongi and Jin.

Leaning back you can now see how stiff they’ve become. Backs turned to stone, shoulders locked in place. They were nervous around you, they had all the right to be. But this? This was too funny.

Refocusing on the tv you laugh at the moments you know are coming, and comment when someone does something you dislike and throw chips at the screen when the character you hate appears.

3 episodes in and all the boys have finally relaxed. Now more intrigued by the show then being nervous to be in the same room as you.

“Wait, who’s her mom!” Jimin asks, more to himself than looking for an answer.

“The lady at the beginning. Don’t worry she’s not dead.” You chirp from your relaxed seat.

“She’s the monkey thing right?? I bet she’s the monkey thingy!” Taehyung guesses enthusiastically, now looking at you to confirm his suspicions.

“Gonna have to find out.” You wink at him, he blushes and directs his attention back to the screen.

You spend well into the night laughing, talking and having fun with the boys. They took a while to fully relax around you, but realizing you all had a lot more in common than they originally thought sped up the process quite a bit.

Somewhere around 3 in the morning, you are on the floor as well as Hoseok and Jimin in heaps of laughter over Jungkook and Jin's argument. Namjoon Yoongi and Tae mirroring your tear stricken faces on the couch.

Unfortunately your delight was soon cut short by Chul-soo entering the room.

“Mistress, you have a meeting in 4 hours. It would be wise to get some sleep while you can.” He explains politely. He hasn’t seen you smile like this since before your father passed away, to say he was overjoyed would have put it lightly. It broke his heart to break it up.

Struggling to regulate your breathing you clamber onto unsteady legs. Dusting yourself off, you walk over to the door to follow Chul-soo out.

“Duty calls boys!” You throw them a mini salute and a wink. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Can we play that video game with you that you mentioned?” Jungkook piped up cheerfully.

“Whatever you want bubs.” Waving to them you exit the room and begin heading upstairs.

You might actually be able to sleep for the first time since losing your father.

💐⛓💐⛓

“She’s-“

“Beautiful?” A voice chimes in.

“I was gonna say, normal. But yea, she’s really beautiful.”

“I think we’re gonna have to be careful.” Namjoon laughs from the couch, where he’s still sitting.

“Of what?” Hoseok asks from the floor.

“We can’t all fall for her.” Yoongi finishes Namjoons thought. Namjoon continues to laugh at them.

Once the tension had died down, and she began to open up, it's like they all became enthralled with you. All sharing the same puppy like heart eyes for the same person.

“Agreed this could get dangerous.” Jin nodded seriously to himself in the corner, trying to stop himself from laughing.

They were all in deep water here.

But how could they stop it?

Keeping your word you came back the same time the next night. Playing with them until 3am again, then trudging off to bed after being pestered by your butler.

And when they asked you’d come back.

One night of rounds of pool.

Video games.

Movie marathons.

Cooking.

Baking cakes.

And every time you came back they’d forget everything except that they had you with them and they enjoyed every second of it.

💐⛓💐⛓

“Where?” You ask, heels clicking angrily against the marbled tile of your entryway.

“Holding 2 mistresses.” Chul-soo explains. Next to you, he takes the items from you that you are bitterly extracting from your body. Gloves and jacket discarded, you roll up the satin navy sleeves of your blouse.

This was your favourite blue shirt, you didn’t have time to change it, which only made you angrier at the knowledge of staining it. You huff down the long hallway, men behind you following as you then descend down the staircase. Not once noticing the seven men watching you storm past the media room.

💐⛓💐⛓

“What do you think is happening?” Jimin whispered from the couch, seated next to the two youngest. They were in the middle of a game, but paused it when they heard you burst through the front door.

“I don’t know, but that’s where those men dragged that guy from before….” Jin responds, standing next to the open archway to the hallway.

“She wouldn’t… hurt him would she?” Jungkook gasps, doe eyes widening at the thought.

A PA comes into the room, offering the boys their snacks and drinks.

“If she did, she had a good reason to.” She huffs, placing the tray on the center table. “Honestly I hope she does.”

The members gather around her, waiting for her to explain.

“That boy is a disgusting human being. He doesn’t deserve anything good in life after what he did.”

“What did he do?” Hoseok asks worriedly.

“We used to have another chef here. His daughter would visit occasionally. She was a beautiful girl, full of joy, such a pure spirit too. However, that man took advantage of her naivety and lured her into a physical relationship.” Her demeanour shifted into something cold and distant. Crossing her arms over her chest. “I say relationship, really it was just him forcing himself onto her. So when her dad found out, he told the mistress and the mistress warned that man's father.”

None of the boys knew what to say. What could they possibly say?

“And it looks to me that he didn’t listen.” Shaking her head in deep thought, before letting out a few sighs and leaving the room.

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about this place….her.” Yoongi huffs annoyedly. They just couldn’t figure you out.

One minute you were like any normal person their age, sneaking snacks, binge watching tv shows, staying in your pyjamas all day to …. This? What do they even call this?? Worst of all they can’t get the thoughts of being an ‘investment’ out of their heads. Is that all they were to you?

Because that’s not what they wanted..they wanted so much more from you.

💐⛓💐⛓

Walking late into the media room, arms full of black fabric. The boys scattered around the room, you didn’t tell them you were coming tonight. They thought you were still away on business. They abruptly stop playing the arcade machines, pausing the tv, discarding their laptops on the big table as you walk in.

You walk to the center of the room, dumping the contents you're carrying onto the floor. They have all moved to look at what you’ve dropped.

“Are you guys up for an adventure tonight?” You smirk at them.

“Really?!” Jungkook exclaims excitedly. Namjoon and Yoongi share a look of confusion with each other.

“Yep!” You chirp, pointing to the pile of black. “I’ll give you 20 mintues to change into these and then I’ll be back to get you.”

You leave the room, turning around to face them as you close the door, winking at them.

Running hurriedly upstairs, you change into your own black sweats and sweatshirt. You’re unsure why you felt this extreme urge to show them this place. It had been a place of solitude and comfort when you thought you had none left. It might not seem like much to them, but to you, it was an escape.

You hear a faint knock on the door. Sighing, you already know who it is.

“Enter Chul-soo.”

The door opens and your butler comes in, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Taking the boys with you this time.” His voice was hopeful.

“Yes..” Unable to face him, you turn your back to grab your converse. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you begin to slip them on.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you can see him smiling now.

“Don’t look at me like that!” You groan, throwing yourself onto your back.

“I’m just happy for you Mistress.” You can hear the brightness in his voice, you hadn’t heard it since you were young. “It’s been a long while since you’ve let someone in. I’m glad you’ve been able to open up again.”

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you really think about it. Think about how normal you’ve felt this past while, just a normal girl with friends.

Friends…. Your brows furrow. Friends? Your eyes abruptly make contact with Chul-soo, wide with shock.

This time he fully relaxes, a belly laugh escaping his lips. You fling back in defeat. You couldn’t even be mad at him. These feelings you had felt had progressed beyond friendship long ago, but you didn’t even notice….but your ever wise butler had.

The instant you fell, he knew.

“Shut up, how was I supposed to know?!” You shriek into the large room, rolling off the bed onto the floor. Sitting there you look at him, his laugh pausing momentarily, before you both lose it in laughter.

Collecting yourselves, Chul-soo is the first to speak.

“Go, they’ll be waiting for you.” He shifts to open the door fully for you, holding out the van keys. The only van that can accommodate all of you.

Wiping the tears pooling in your eyes, you clamber to your feet. Rushing to the door, stopping briefly.

“We’ll be back late, don’t wait up.” You take the keys from him and leave the room.

Flying down the stairs, skipping ones along the way, smile still plastered on your face as you round the corner. All 7 men, dressed in head to toe black waiting for you, excitement dancing in the air. You jog over to them.

“Let's go!” You wiggle the keys at them, as they follow you towards the garage.

Getting ou wasn hard, neither was stopping at your favourite corner shop to grab drinks and snacks. No, the hard part came when you looked out the windshield slightly to the right and saw the large structure in the distance, passing the old warehouses.

Warehouses you had too many complicated feelings towards, jumbled memories of you and your father and everything he taught you.

Ignoring the emotions welling up, you continued on your course. Tempting a glance into the rearview as they vanished behind more of an abandoned shipyard.

You slowly maneuvered the van close to the waterfront. The docks decayed and rotted away years ago. Parking the van, you don’t spare a glance at the others as you climb out. Walking over the steep edge of the cemented platform, you stare out over the horizon. Water reflecting the stars above.

“What is this place?” You can hear Jin’s voice almost directly behind you. You hadn’t heard anyone get out of the car, too lost in the memories this dark quiet place carried for you.

“This is my safe place.” You begin, not looking back. You don’t think you’d be able to speak if you did. So instead you focus on the shallow waves in the distance. “I used to come here when I needed to get away...or my father didn’t want me to see anything.”

Rolling your shoulders back allows you to smile and relax. This felt right, for you to be here...for them to be here with you.

“If you guys are willing to listen” You hesitate before turning around to look at them. “I think it’s about time I tell you about myself.”

💐⛓💐⛓

This is what they wanted. In this moment, you face them so beautifully and confidently. Stars shimmering behind you as you offer to share yourself with them. This was the moment they knew just how far they had fallen in love with you.

After collecting the blankets from the van, which had been sneakily placed there by Chul-soo, and placing them on the cement platform, you all sat down with your food. They stared at you expectantly, they didn’t want to push you.

“When I was about 5 or 6, my family visited Japan from overseas. I don’t know anything about my birth parents other than they had a lot of financial issues. I’m not sure if its because they were into drugs or something, but father did hint at it a few times.”

“I was an only child...the child rings in Japan were at an all time high at that point. So to save themselves from whatever debt they owed. I was sold to a child trafficking ring. My parents left Japan immediately after receiving the money. I’ve never seen them since. I’ve never bothered to care too much about it.”

They could see you force yourself to swallow, your eyes not looking at them. The unknown of their reactions would be alot to handle. No one interrupted, just waited for you to collect yourself before continuing.

“The child ring I was sold under was hosting an auction. I was one of the children to be auctioned off that night. Father was visiting from Korea for work, when he heard about it from an associate at the time. He said he felt bad for the kids, disgusted at his associate for taking part in those types of things. But at the time he couldn’t say no, so he went along with them. Father had lost his wife and son 2 years prior, he had been alone and sad for so long. Just like me…”

Her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes closing momentarily. Caught in emotions they couldn't understand.

“I had just turned 8 when I was auctioned off. I was fortunate enough not to receive the same treatment as the other children. I was mostly ignored and forgotten about. Which was probably why they didn't care about me, they just wanted to get what money they could.”

“I still remember the hot lights from the makeshift stage, the shit connection on the microphone they were using. The thick nauseating smell of old cologne and cigarettes. I could barely understand anything, it was so loud. Everything was melting together. Except…..”

“Father. While there were men standing and shouting. Father sat there, his eyes never leaving me. His paddle raised and he offered 4 times more than the last man. My auction was closed, and I was sold. Looking back I should have been terrified. But there was something.. Comfort? In his eyes that made me trust him.”

“SInce then his business grew to unspeakable heights and he taught me along the way. Brought me to Korea and raised me as his own child, hoping that one day I would take over for him. And I worked hard to get to this point. He never forced me, always gave me the choice. I told him I didn’t want to be apart of it, that it would be better to pick someone else.”

Your whole body shudders, they don’t think it was from the light breeze coming from the ocean side. They could see it in your face, there was more. Something that you were still hiding.

“Why did you decide to…” Hoseok spoke softly. One of them had to be brave enough to ask. To ruin their silence. For you to know that they were still there, still willing to hear everything.

After a long pause, you let out a slight chuckle. They were shocked to say the least, they weren't expecting you to find humour in all of this tragedy.

“I bartered with Father. There was an investment presented to him, one he was about to reject. He said it was too risky. I was shown the items supplied by the man, and I- I saw something in it. I knew it would be great. It was a gut feeling. He said the only one capable of issuing approval was the head of the business. His predecessor would probably dismiss it. He couldn’t guarantee the continuation of the agreement then. I thought it over for weeks. I was 16 at the time, I knew what he was insinuating. If I wanted to personally approve this investment I would have to agree to take over from him. I looked over the agreement over and over again. I had made up my mind. I accepted the agreement. I would become his successor and he would approve the investment in his name.”

Something you said plagued Yoongi’s mind, circling over and over again. He had to ask.

“What were you shown?”

A smile breaks over your face, it was close to dawn when they had sat down. Now the sun was rising on the horizon. Illuminating your face, your smile now glowing warmly.

“A grainy 8 minute video of 7 boys my age. A compilation of them in dance practice, vocal lessons, in a production studio, eating together, living together, telling the camera about their hopes and dreams.” You finally face them.

You had seen them. They finally understood, you agreed to be a part of this life because of them. Guilt washes over all of them. Almost all consuming, they begin to shut down.

“It was the best decision I ever made.” Your voice is just loud enough to shatter the shame. “Best decision for me and for them.”

And they believed you. They believed in your smile.

💐⛓💐⛓

“I’m sorry it took so much longer than expected.” You politely bow to Bang.

It had been 3 months since you took the boys in. Finding the people behind the threats was a little trickier than you first envisioned it to be.

But soon enough they were apprehended and handed over to authorities, and they were to return to their lives.

“No, please. You have done more than we could have ever asked for. I could never say thank you enough!” Bang shakes his head violently.

Standing straight, you smile at the older and try to focus on him alone. But you can’t. You can see it.

Over his shoulder you can see the boys standing in your foyer with all of their luggage. All sharing the same sad, hurt puppy pouts, shoulders sagging. They didn’t want to leave. You’d realized it after the first month, just how attached they had become to you. A part of you was overjoyed, but the logical part of you knew that this was for the better.

As much as you wanted to keep them with you forever….it was safer for them to be as far away from you as possible.

Over the past month things had gone from bad to worse with Mr. Gwan . First his son and then a shady business deal gone wrong. Threats had been made against your company. One even towards the ‘secret lover’ you had hidden away. You knew it was the boys that it was unintentionally referring to.

You knew then it was time for them to leave you.

💐⛓💐⛓

“Hyung I can't do this.” Taehyung whined from the couch in the production lounge, they were scheduled for a live interview that day. “I need to see her.”

The boys were devastated when they heard they'd be leaving. Your face never once falters from your business smile, but by now they could see right through it.

But they left as instructed. Watching your figure fade from view as the van took them away. An image they couldn’t forget.

“It’s been 3 months and I can’t stop from loving her.” Tears started to well in his eyes, followed by a pout on his lips. “None of us can.”

“I know Tae. But what can we do?” Namjoon asks, he was just as close to breaking as the youngers. “We have no way to contact her.”

The youngest 3 didn’t stop crying for weeks, he and the older 3 were trying desperately to keep it together, but they could only fake it for so long. Each finding time alone, in solitude to cry.

“I have an idea,” Yoongi breaks the silence. “It's ballsy to say the least, and we might be into some serious shit for it. Do you want to hear it?”

Looking around the room, he’s met with 6 nodding heads. He motions for them all to gather around the couch. This would either be his dumbest idea yet or his brightest.

💐⛓💐⛓

Your whole body trembles as you continue to watch the live interview you had taped earlier in the day. The boys' voices ringing in your ears.

“And we’ll be there tonight. Waiting in the safe place you shared with us.” Namjoon states.

“We’ll wait all night if we have to.”

“Please come tonight.”

“We won’t leave until we see you.”

Hands shake so violently you almost aren’t able to continue to hold the photo in your hand. You register your phone ringing. Reaching forward you grab your phone off the coffee table. You answer without looking.

“Hello Sphinx.” The male voice drips in sick pleasure. “Did you get the photo I sent you?”

“Yes.” Was all you could say.

“Did you manage to catch BTS’s live interview today?”

“Yes.”

“Such bright boys.” Amusement laced in his voice.

“They won’t show.” You force through gritted teeth.

“Oh I believe they will.”

“What do you want?” Stomach bile rising up your throat. Eyes drifting back down to the photo of the dimly lit abandoned shipyard's edge, the one just passed those old warehouses that haunted you.

“Meet me alone in an hour. Let’s say in your fathers favourite warehouse.” A single tear escapes your eye, running down your cheek onto the photo in your lap. “Come with anyone and i'll have my men meet the boys in your place.”

You want to throw up. Hoping to god Bang has them on lockdown. That they are safe in their dorms.

“Fine.”

“Good good. I’ll see you there, Sphinx.” He hangs up.

You try to control your breathing. There’s no way they’d be there, it’d be fine. You’d take your men and deal with this once and for all.

You stand on shaky feet. Thoughts caught off by your phone ringing again. Looking at the caller ID. Your heart sinks.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out as shaky as your hands are.

“Y/N!” Bangs rushed voice desperately crosses the line. “Please tell me you know where the boys are”

“The boys?” Your stomach drops, tears fill your eyes.

“I can’t find them!” His voice hoarse from panic. “They said they were going back to their dorms together, but I’m here and they aren’t! I don’t know where they’ve gone!”

Tears stream down your face. Mind reeling ‘no no no no no no they didn’t, they couldn’t, they wouldn’t. No no no no’

Panic grips you internally. Externally you’re frozen.

“I’ll find them.” Somehow your voice comes out steady and monotone. It doesn’t feel like your own. The voice inside your head is screaming, your heart hurts.

“Thank you.” Is the last thing you hear before the phone drops to the floor.

‘Not them. Please not them.’

Their faces flash behind your now closed eyes. They needed to always smile, always be happy and safe. So many big dreams they still had left to achieve.

You thought your heart broke when you watched their van drive away, convincing yourself it was for the best. But you had been too late. Nowhere near you was safe, somehow along the way you forgot. Now more than ever, the reminder slaps you in the face.

Like a robot you head upstairs, everyone has turned in for the night. You had dismissed them all early today.

You swap your suit for a pair of leggings, tank top and zip up sweater. Not stopping as you leave everything behind. Wallet, keys, watch and phone left behind. Upon reaching the front door you hesitate. Looking down at the necklace your father gave you, you slowly unclasp it with still shaky hands. A small metal pillar he had engraved with the day he legally adopted you. A gps tracker you never took off, one you knew still worked till this day. You place it on the cabinet next to the door and head out on foot.

Closer to the main road you catch a ride to the small corner shop. You picked out a burner phone and a card for it, placing it on the counter you froze. You forgot money.

“Take it.” The cashier smiles at you. It was the same one from all those nights ago, with the girls. “You overplayed that night. It’ll cover this.”

You give him a quick nod and grab your items.

“Can you call a taxi for me?”

“Sure, and here.” He hands you some cash. “For wherever you’re going.”

“Thank you.” You manage out.

You wait outside for the taxi to arrive. It takes less than two minutes before you’re on your way to the meeting spot.

Your mind and body are screaming at you.

‘Please don’t take them too’

This isn’t a price you were willing to pay.

💐⛓💐⛓

Walking into the abandoned warehouse, you don’t let yourself think twice.

Marching through the large open wood doors, grabbing a long wooden shaft from a pile of debris you continue your march.

Snapping the wood piece over your knee, you turn the corner. Twirling the two rods in your hands.

Lifting your right arm you swing diagonally down, wood colliding with a figure's face. Not stopping your steps you spin out of the way of a pair of hands that come at you from your left. Wood colliding with the back of a head.

The only one thought circles your mind; keep the ones you love safe. Keep the boys safe.

Another figure swings at you. You dodge down wood coming up to meet his chin. He falls to his knees. You kick into the side of his head, sending him to the floor.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of your blood in your ears. You can’t hear the yelling or screaming. You can feel when the wood your holding collides with the next 4 figures. But you aren’t lucid enough to focus on it.

Turning around an arm already raised, you fail to register the figure appearing to your left.

You feel a cold sharp pain in your side. Time goes slowly. Gaze travelling down you see the hilt of a short blade sticking out of your side. The man's hands let go of it. You bring your eyes up to look at him. He smiles at you, your eyes glaze as you drop the wood in your hands.

Before you can rethink your situation, you grab the blade and pull. Adrenaline makes your body and mind numb to everything. You step towards him and force the blade soaked in your own blood into his inner thigh. Yanking the blade from his flesh as he drops.

Regaining some composure, but not in time to deflect a fist that shoots into your peripherals a second too late. It collides with the right side of your face, sending you crashing to the floor as well.

A hand grabs a fist full of your hair yanking you to your knees. Staring at the ceiling you finally see the man you’ve been looking for. He smiles at you wildly from the side. A snarl breaks past your lips.

Fists punch into your rib cage repeatedly. Anger bubbles deeper within you.

‘Keep the boys safe’ If you died how could you keep them safe? A scream erupts from you. You grasp the blade on the floor, slicing across the man's stomach in front of you. He staggers away.

In a second of shock you manage to get to your feet. All at once you slide to the right and take a step back, elbow meeting stomach of the man holding you. You feel some hair ripped from your scalp before he lets go. Hunched over grasping his stomach you bring your knee up hitting his face with enough force to send him back. You feel his bones crunch under the impact. Spinning around, before anyone else can move you throw it.

Directly at Mr. Gwan. Blade meets chest. As the last man runs over to him, holding his boss steady to not cause anything fatal.

Your body collapses to the floor. All the energy you had was fading, but you forced yourself to your feet before you could black out.

Shakily you begin to make your way out of the warehouse. Hand reaching into one of the unconscious men's pockets, locating his phone you dial 911, you hear the phone click to connect and you drop it. Near the door.

Mind finally catches up to the body, the loss of blood making you nauseous. You try to put pressure on your wound, as you start to limp your way down the gravel road. Towards the waterfront.

They were gonna be there. They told you they would. You had to make sure they were safe.

I’m the distance you could see 7 figures standing by the waterfront. Pacing back and forth, worried…panicked. Waiting for you.

But you stop. Shifting to your left, you step behind a wooden structure. Reaching for your burner phone you text the address of the shore front to the only saved number. Sinking down on your butt, legs bent up in front of you, you lean your head back.

Trying to keep breathing, to keep conscious and ignore the pain in your side.

Moments later you hear sirens in the far distance. A faint smile graces your lips. Then you hear the screech of tires, a lot closer than the sirens.

Scooching over to peer around the wooden structure you see the Bighit security exiting cars, along with Bang.

You can hear the boys shouting as they’re dragged into the cars. Away from you. Behind closed eyes you can see each member's hysterical faces. Tears begin to stream down your face….relief. They’re safe now.

Leaning back again. Spots cloud your vision. The world becomes deafeningly quiet as you finally lose consciousness. Body giving up, sliding down face meeting the dirt below you.

💐⛓💐⛓

“Mistress.” You hear a voice call you. “We’re preparing to land.”

Shaking yourself awake, you gingerly stretch your locked joints.

“Thank you Chul-soo.”

Yawning, you slowly wake up.

Staring out the window of the private jet, looking down at the world below.

It had been 7 months since that night. Upon seeing the photo you left in the media room Chul-soo vaguely knew where you were going. Your men had found you, unconscious covered in blood. The boys were already long taken by Bang. You recovered quickly. Then business was back as usual. You were once again alone.

You didn’t want the boys to know why you never showed up, but Bang refused to lie to them again. So he told them everything.

This was the price you had to pay: it was too late for you to tell them you loved them.

💐⛓💐⛓

“I can’t believe we won!” Jimin shouted excitedly as they entered their dorm. All of them were buzzing with adrenaline.

After they had heard what happened with you from Bang; they couldn’t shake the guilt. They blamed themselves for it. If they had just kept their mouths shut and endured, you wouldn’t have almost died. They wouldn’t have been used as bait.

They understood now that the distance between them and you was necessary. Safer for everyone. Their hearts broke all over again.

What they wanted more than anything now was for you to not hate them. They still loved you.

“Flowers?”

In the middle of their dining table stood a massive assorted bouquet of flowers. So massive it would take two of them to manoeuvre. But how did that get in here? Who had been in their apartment.

Dropping their bags they all hesitantly made their way over to it. A small envelope was slotted amongst the roses.

Namjoon was the one to grab it, slowly opening the envelope. A white card worth the word ‘congratulations’ written in cursive. Opening the card, his breath hitches.

The rest of his members peer around him to take a look for themselves. Wide eyes, gasps and tears are the only things they are able to respond with.

With a black pen, written with your handwriting.

‘The best decision I ever made’, and your red lipstick kiss on top.

This was the price they had to pay: It was too late for them to tell you that they loved you.

💐⛓💐⛓

Collecting your bag out of the plane's compartment, you head over to the doors.

You hadn’t been to this side of the world since your parents. Your nerves creeping up, you push them down. This trip to America was necessary, if this business deal was successful your business would be untouchable. As well as anyone personally connected to you. Everyone you cared about would be unconditionally safe.

Checking the time on your watch, you had around 2 hours before it was time for the meeting. You could relax, at least for a short while, at your hotel.

The doors finally open, you make your way down the connected stairs, sun glaring down on you. You're about to place your sunglasses over your eyes when something catches your attention.

Smiling wildly, you stare at the billboard, seven beautiful faces shining brightly at you.

‘BTS announces world stadium tour’

“Well done boys.” You say to their poster. Sliding your sunglasses onto your face, you pivot towards the car. Chul-soo waiting, door open for you.

Unable to stop smiling, you climb into the backseat of the car. Taking one last look at them, and how happy they are.

This was a price you were willing to pay.

💐🗝💐🗝

masterlist

This one was ALOT. Please tell me your honest opinions on this, PLEASE🙏🏼🙏🏼.