#mafia!bts

"Where did you go, my pretty wife?" Yoongi's voice is raspy, his fingers trailing goosebumps down your body as he folds your legs up to your chest, spreading you open so shamelessly. Your pussy drools, your walls fluttering around nothing as his hungry eyes take in your disheveled state.  Your eyes are blinking up at him dazedly, your breath coming up short as he smiles wickedly. "You can't escape into your pretty little head yet- wan' you to keep your eyes on me as I split you open."

-

Yoongi had everyone in the estate running for the hills when he came back from his "business" trip. His eyes were swirling with the unhinged chaos, still holding his jingum, dripping with blood that was not his. He stood in the doorway of the estate for a moment, the silence that fell over the property deafening. "Out," the one word echoed with a low growl, and he didn't have to repeat himself as everyone only needed one warning from him before fleeing to safety.

His blood splattered clothes fell one by one as he stalked through the estate. A ghost town now, the air filled with an electric hum with every step he took. He was a man with a mission, and when he finally made it to your shared room. His sanity snapped.

“Wife,” the one word brought shivers down your spine. “My wife,” Yoongi was on you before you could properly greet your husband back. His warm palms are dragging over your body, his pupils dilated, his body strung up like a live wire. His lips claimed yours, “mine, my wife, mine.” He kissed you as if it would bring him salvation for what he did for a living. For the decisions he made, the lives he took, the power he had.

You were the only pure thing he had. And when it became too much, it was you he came for.

“Mm,” Your fingers curled into the soft sheets under you, his kisses trailing feverishly down your throat as his fingers carefully untied your robe. The silk material fell open, and Yoongi was rewarded with you being bare naked for him. “My love,” your voice caresses his tensed muscles, your fingers rubbing up his big arms and down his broad back. You watched how he groaned, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering as the war in his head waged on.

His grasp on your legs was firm. Pulling your knees up to your chest, spreading you open for him to fit in between your plush thighs. Your pretty pussy is already soaking wet for him. “All mine,” his eyes half-lidded bore into yours, and you’re heart rate stuttered.

You feared you weren’t making it out alive.

His needy hips rut into yours, his grip on your legs holding you in place as he humped your drooling cunt, your juices soaking his pants, filthy. “Only I can make you this wet,” his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, his eyes dark and dangerous as he moved against you. “Only I get to hear your pretty little noise.” Your lips parted, a flush forming on your cheeks as another wave of slick gushed between your thighs. “Only I get to fuck you.” Yoongi’s fingers are swift, unbuttoning his slacks, pushing them and his boxers low enough to free his cock. “You’re mine, right? To fuck, to love, to breed.”

His words build an inferno inside of you. Goosebumps running down your arms as he stroked his pretty cock slowly. Your cunt throbbed in need, your eyes flickering from his burning gaze to his cock that he guided to your glistening folds. Yoongi was big, firm, and thick. Pulsing veins running down his shaft that curved up a little, and it drove you crazy. The head of his cock was angry red, leaking precum profusely and adding to the mess between your thighs. And as he dragged the fat mushroom tip through your folds to catch on your puffy clit, you mewled. Nodding your head dumbly to anything he says. “Yes, yes, please- my love.”

His lips curve into a crazed smile of satisfaction, growing harder at how compliant you were for him. How eager. “I’m gonna ruin you.” It’s a promise before one hand is pushing your leg up, up, up, and his other hand is sinking the first couple of inches of his cock into your sopping cunt.

You couldn’t tell if Yoongi was breathing with the way his jaw slacked open. His eyelashes flutter from the way your pretty pussy wraps around him so deliciously. Your sweet gummy walls are splitting open for his fat cock, squeezing him so tightly as he slowly bottomed out. And when his heavy balls smacked into your ass, both of you sighed in relief.

This. This is where he belongs. This was the only thing that truly mattered.

His stomach flexed, his pupils dilated and you couldn’t help but trace the thin vertical scar that ran down his right eye. He growled, pinning your wrists by your head, a soft shake of his head a silent warning that this wasn't going to be soft. His hips pulled back, halfway, his eyes watching how your folds stretched around his girth, trying to suck him back in. His eyes glimmered, the loud noises in his head muffling as your slick coated his cock with a light sheen. “You’re mine.”

And then he’s pushing back in. His cock pierces you in one long stroke that makes you moan loudly. Your head falls back into the pillows, your stomach flexing as he picks up his pace. Strong and deliberate, the head of his cock smacks into your cervix, the action causing stars to burst behind your eyelids with every stroke. “Yours, all yours.”

Yoongi's last bit of willpower snaps. All five of his long fingers pin you to the bed by your throat, squeezing enough to have your eyes flying wide open and look at him. “Eyes on me.” His other hand hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle causing him to reach deeper. “You get to be as loud as you want, Pretty.” His hips roll, and you clench around his length, a wave of your arousal soaking his cock as he speaks. “Made everyone leave so I could ruin you properly.”

“Yoon-“ your breath caught as he squeezed, your hips bucking to meet his nasty thrusts, your mind spinning. “Oh, mmm!”

“My pretty wife, does that turn you on?” Yoongi’s lips spread into a wicked grin, his hand on your leg sliding down to your lower back, lifting your ass onto his lap so you would arch beautifully for him. “That I sent everyone away so I could fuck you dumb- make you take my cum? Breed your pretty pussy over and over again.”

Yoongi’s too far gone. Your warm, wet pussy is wrapped around his cock in such a vice grip that he doesn’t hear the dangerous creak of the bed. He doesn’t notice that you aren’t the only one moaning, the bed frame shaking under his force before it snaps.

Both of you are now leaning at an angle, the bed frame breaking under his salacious attack on your willing body. He’s using his strength to keep you under him, to take everything he gives. His hips rolling into yours as you cry out in pleasure.

“Please, please ‘m gonna cum.” Your mouth hangs as your eyes roll back, the heat in your stomach falling apart as he keeps going.

“Tha’s it. Cream on my cock, Pretty.” And you really do. Your cunt spasms, your walls contracting rapidly around his shaft, a creamy ring forming around his base. You can barely ride out your first orgasm before he’s slipping from you. His strong hands drag you from the bed, flipping you onto your hands and knees on the floor. And just as he slips back into your pulsing cunt, the bed completely falls to the ground in pieces.

Your pussy quivers obsecenely around his girth, his warm palm pressing into your back so you would be face down, ass up for him. “Yoongi!”

He bullies his cock hard and deep inside you. His hands spread your cheeks apart to watch how your cunt slobbers on his cock filthily. His jaw clenches, and his hand smacks your ass. “Did you think I was done?” His laugh is cold and dark, and when he puts a hand on your head to keep you down, you clench around him pathetically.

It shouldn’t turn you on to be treated this way by your husband. His fingers tangling in your hair as his hips smack into your ass roughly. But fuck does it feel so good, your second orgasm blooming quickly as he ruts into you from behind. Your nails dig into the rug underneath you, your body jostling from each thrust, and Yoongi’s hand on your hip keeps you from running away.

Your moans echo, your mouth gaping, your breasts rubbing along the floor as he takes, takes, takes. And he knows you’re close again, your gummy walls mold to his shaft, sucking him back in with each nasty stroke. He grunts, his eyes hooded as he watches you fall apart for him the second time. The orgasm is as strong as the first time, your whole body tenses, a sob falls from your lips, and the sadistic side of him comes out. Knowing your eyes were spilling tears because of how good he feels triggers his own orgasm.

Five strong fingers wrap around the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he grinds his heavy cock deep inside you. The head of his cock splurts, filthy hot, and sticky globs of his sperm, and he’s tilting his face up with a deep groan. “There we go, take every las’ drop,” his cock swirls inside you, dragging against all your sweet spots, and you shiver.

Your cunt convulses, milking his cock so sweetly his hips move mindlessly. He’s fucking his cum deeper, still twitching, and you can feel his seed seep from the sides, dripping down to his balls.

He doesn’t like that.

His tongue clicks against his teeth in a disapproving manner. “You’re wasting it, my wife.” You sniffle, your cheeks stained with your tears, and nothing prepares you when Yoongi’s finger ghosts around your sloppy entrance, collecting the split seed and pushing it back in while he is still inside you. You mewl, and Yoongi’s sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “Mmm, I guess I’ll have to keep fucking your pretty pussy until it sticks, huh?”

When he flips you onto your back, you catch his eyes. You can feel his cum pooling out of your puffy cunt, and your jaw drops. He looks like the very monster people see him as. His pupils blown, his eyes dark and half-lidded, showing you a fucked-out grin. “Spread those legs f’me.” He leans his body over yours, his face inches from your own, his cock still hard and pushing into your slippery, wet channel for the third time tonight. “So good f’me- my pretty cum dump,” his hands move you back into a nasty mating press. “Tell me, do you wan' a boy or a girl, my wife?”

A/N: As always comments, kudos, and feedback are appreciated! I swear I’m actually funny so talk to me, I won’t bite 💖

He lifted his heavy gaze towards the one window that mattered, the only light left on inside the building: her office. As far as Taehyung knew she did this often - work until late hours - but then again he had only been stalking her for a few days, so what did he know?

Namjoon would kill him if he knew what he was doing. Sure, he had been somewhat instructed to follow her, but this was a far stretch and he knew it. As part of Bangtan, Namjoon trusted him with what he knew how to do best: gain information. William Carson had managed to owe them too much, dealing with the low level, unprepared and impulsive crooks too often and promising too much in return. They had failed to see that business with William was bound to failure, and now the higher ups had to clean the mess.

William Carson had a lesson to learn, and while Taehyung usually enjoyed the part of his job where he delved into the deepest secrets of people, getting to know him was both too easy and a pain in the ass. The man was boring and idiotic, it would have been too easy to simply rope him into a meeting and beat his ass to submission. Nothing about him would have ever caught his attention in any other circumstance: finance bro, nepotism and inferiority complex, same old same old. But Taehyung’s specialty was finding out what made people bow to others, and despise hating his personality and knowing William had nothing of interest to offer them, he did his job to perfection. The question he always asked himself with every new pray: What is most precious to them? Could be money, love or even power. Money was off the table because the idiot didn’t have much to start with - not enough to pay them, anyways - and power was something William Carson clearly craved, but it was handed to him or would be as soon as his daddy handed him the company.

Y/n was the obvious answer, being the idiot’s fiancé. Taehyung had investigated debtor’s wives and girlfriends on a few occasions before. This was not the first time a debtor was cheating on their partner. It was the first time, however, that it made Taehyung’s blood boil. He wouldn’t describe himself as much of anything besides a killer, but he knew he was smart and could see a dumb choice from a mile away: cheating on Y/n was the dumbest choice William could have made. Starting off the fact that they seemed so wrong for each other from the outside - coming from a complete stranger who had not yet exchanged a word with either of them - completely incompatible beings, he didn’t understand how a woman like her could stand a buffoon like William every day, much less get cheated on by him.

As a smart man he also understood his feelings in this particular situation weren’t ordinary. Plenty of beautiful women had approached him in his lifetime and he had seen great women go to impossible lengths for men who didn’t deserve it. Up until that moment it had seemed like something out of his control, beyond his reach and not of his incumbence.

The first time he followed her was a night such as this, starting off like any other investigation would, knowing her name, place of work and address and deciding to pay her a visit for research purposes. He had done this a hundred times. He had followed debtors home many times before, killed, threatened and stalked people like it was second nature. So the way his heart started beating, clawing out of his chest when he caught a glimpse of her bathed in moonlight walking to her car scared the living hell out of him. He soon found himself reading about her online, her professional accolades, her likes and dislikes on any social media platform he could find and her art. Her art and creative mind was such a labyrinth of emotions for Taehyung that he had to close his laptop with a loud bang against his home desk and go for a walk to clear his mind. In just twenty four hours she had gone from mere target to his own target, unrelated to Bangtan business and completely personal and precious.

It always did feel different whenever he followed an innocent person, one he knew might get caught in the crossfire of whatever bad luck fate had in store for them, because Taehyung knew - or was fully convinced - that his shadow created such bad luck for anyone who dared approach. If you were on his list, chances were your grave was being dug up, no loose ends and such trivial matters. Bangtan tried its best to keep blameless souls out of harm's way, but it wasn’t guaranteed. Fucking William Carson was to blame for the shadow that was Kim Taehyung following Y/n home.

The mere thought made him hold onto the cigarette between his slender fingers a bit too tightly, breaking it in half. He quickly chucked it away and continued glancing at the soft light emanating from the office. Such a woman, she was. Smart, talented and gorgeous. Whatever jokes William must have told her to convince her to marry him, he was dying to know. With a ‘tsk’ of his tongue and knowing he had lingered on for long enough - his sanity hanging by a thread - he turned back into the dark and disappeared.

Whatever drug Y/n’s eyes had been injected with that he couldn’t erase them from his brain, he had to know. Never in his life had he become so enchanted with something, frustrating and confounding him to no end. In just one night, after watching her for the first time, she had him in a tight grasp he hadn’t been able to shake. Guilt and strange emotions rattled against his ribcage whenever his name popped into his mind - which was much more often than he’d like to admit - because he knew he no longer watched her out of necessity but desire.

So the plan was in motion, pretty standard: kidnap the woman he loves, threaten him with her life, voila, here’s your money back. The only doubt was, who would be enough? Rose or Y/n. See, William had been cheating on Y/n with Rose for a few months now. Incredibly so and completely the wrong choice in Taehyung’s mind because Y/n was a million times the woman Rose ever could be. In his mind, whether William preferred Rose or not, there was no way a rational man wouldn’t crumble to his feet at the mere thought of a hair on Y/n’s head being touched. Then again, William was most clearly not a rational man.

So it began, pushing his own low opinions of William out of his mind, Taehyung carried out his mission like he always had: flawlessly. Except for one small, unimportant aspect: he revealed his identity to her.

Going into her office with the mask on was like a fantasy come to life. He had visited it once before on a sleepless night when no one was left inside the building. The Bangtan Phantom could, after all, cross into any space without being detected. It was a powerful place to find himself in, but personal to her in the way she was written over every corner. She clearly owned it but wasn’t ostentatious about it. Her most recent project was splattered all over the room in the shape of sketches, floor plans and color palettes. It was like seeing her brain in pictures and moodboards and it invited him in like a moth to a flame.

“Who invited you into my office?” That’s the first thing she ever said to him. He loved it and disliked it in equal parts. Loved how confident she pretended to be and hated that she so naturally put herself in further danger. Any other psychopath - because he was a very specific brand of psychopath - would have gotten angry at her attempt at authority and shut her up really fast. Taehyung merely contained a smile.

He knew he was wrong for showing her his face. That part was completely unnecessary. He was in for an earful when Namjoon found out, because he would find out, as the leader of Bangtan always does. But he didn’t care, he selfishly needed to see her as Taehyung, not another masked man, not as the phantom he was at night but the man that had become obsessed with her existence. The - many - other times he had kidnapped people, innocent or not, he didn’t give reasons, he didn’t introduce himself, he obviously did not take his mask off and he certainly didn’t worry for their wellbeing throughout. What the hell was wrong with him?

Only after the events of the helipad did he consider his actions with regret. Only after realising how scared she was of her shadow, how paranoid she had become that someone must be watching her - smart as always - did he really start to feel the guilt. In fact, when he got the call that William was trying to break into her house, Taehyung almost ran over several people trying to get there as fast as possible. Any other text message he would have ignored, but anyone else would not have had his number, so she was not to blame once again. The way she had broken down in anxiety and asked him to stay shattered his already fragmented heart. What had he done? If he hadn’t roped her in, William wouldn’t be trying to talk to her, drugged out of his mind and pretty obviously wanting to know what she knew about Bangtan and even - possibly, try to get a fruitless revenge on them.

He had then and there taken a personal vow to do everything in his power to protect that woman, always, whatever the cost.

It was the only thing that eased his mind a bit, knowing Grant would be around and that Taehyung would drop anything and everything at her command if she needed it. Mad, right?

Jungkook must have noticed his friend’s mood shifting the night he invited him out for drinks at one of his clubs. Could he blame him? William was a loose cannon, Y/n was scared and he was to blame for all of it. Taehyung did not like to go out as much as before, so it had been a while since he last found the motivation. Maybe a night out and a few whiskeys would do the trick, maybe help him find his focus again, away from the perfect woman whose life he had ruined and back to being a ghost.

But fate had funny ways of working.

Of course she would be at his club. Of course she would be dancing with her friends, the neon lights shifting in colors that bathed her in an ethereal glow he could not stop looking at. He didn’t even listen to half of the stuff Jungkook was telling him about his new girlfriend when his eyes met her dancing figure. All the worries he had seen plastered on her face over the last few weeks had washed away with the rhythm of the music. The fearful expressions and concerns had been replaced with a sweet smile and closed eyes as her hips swayed from side to side like a movie made specifically for him. His throat went dry and he couldn’t take his eyes of her as he took a big swig from his glass.

For a moment he felt comfort in watching Y/n again after so long. He had grown used to waiting for her to leave her office and go home, watching her every move and learning the small quirks she exposed during that time, like the way she would tie her hair back when the project was specially stressful, or how she drank coffee every morning with too much sugar and took it to work with her. It had become a bit of a routine to wait, just wait, and observe from afar. It was a nice change of pace to not be looking for her in the crowd and find her. This new sight of her, so free, warmed his icy heart like nothing had in a long time.

Which probably explained why he saw red when that man’s hand landed on her, unwanted.

Killing him had been the second best thing that happened to him that week, Y/n gracing him with his presence being the first, of course. In fact, he didn’t even regret it after getting her text. If he had known that the douche knew her name and William’s, well sure, he could have gotten some information out of him before putting a bullet between his eyebrows, but what’s done is done. Taehyung didn’t need someone to be alive to find out all their secrets, that’s how good he was at his job.

He quickly found the douche’s name, Mark, his address, work and blood type with a quick visit to his apartment with Jungkook as soon as the girls got in the car and drove away. Jungkook was much more impulsive and hot headed than him, so he didn’t quite understand why they were studying this man’s life with such patience. If it were up to Jungkook, in fact - and as he described to Taehyung while they roamed Mark’s living room - the douche would have been bloody, beaten and forgotten in a dumpster by now. But Taehyung liked to take his time when getting to know his next target. He also liked things clean and quick, a bullet did the trick if he didn’t have anything to extract from his victim.

In a twisted way he also liked to justify his kills, often making sure the victim knew why their time had come. So after learning why he was about to die, Mark apologized profusely for disrespecting women repeatedly - because it sure as hell had not been the first time - but Taehyung felt like it was too little too late.

He didn’t sleep that night either.

Not that he did often, his insomnia was a shadow that had followed him closely throughout his teenage years and into the present adulthood. One might think it weird for a man so used to such horrors as murder to be burdened with sleepless nights and guilt, but lately Taehyung was growing tired of the life he had led. Lately he imagined what a certain woman might truly think of him if she ever understood just how fucked up he truly was and the fear paralyzed him.

Nothing, however, paralyzed him more than learning that she was sick. He had abandoned the meeting he was in, Jimin stopped talking when he saw Taehyung simply stand up and walk out of the room without explanation. With worry and haste he got into his car and sped through the city like the sun was about to turn off and he was the one who could reach the light switch in time.

Grant had texted him the day before saying she was acting weird, that she might have a slight cold. Taehyung decided that a fully grown and responsible adult such as herself could take care of a cold, right? Wrong. According to Grant the situation was dire and she wasn’t accepting any help. Scattered thoughts of what kind of hell a person has to go through to behave like that went through his mind, but no rational answer came to him. What could have happened to her as a child, teen or young adult to not be able to accept help? Taehyung knew enough, he knew she was an orphan and knew how few people she kept around, which was a clear indicative that she placed trust on people very rarely and with much caution.

If she wouldn’t listen to Grant and if she wouldn’t ask her friends for help, he would make sure she didn’t act so stupidly any further. Accumulated frustration at the situation and worry for not knowing the extent of her condition made him knock on the door with more force than was perhaps necessary.

“Grant, I said-” Her weak, tired voice reached him as soon as she opened the door, expression mixing exhaustion and surprise when she realized who was knocking on her door. “What are you doing here?”

The way every muscle in his body tensed at her mere presence, how his hand involuntarily landed on her forehead to check just how bad the fever might be was completely unexpected to both him and her.

He felt like punching the wall, but contained effortlessly, because she looked like a very small and weak version of herself that he hadn’t seen before. However empathetic he felt for her current situation, he couldn’t help the frustration running through his veins at her stubbornness. Had she simply admitted to being sick and needing help, Grant would have been able to make her feel better. On the other hand, Taehyung took great pleasure in lifting her from the ground and placing her on her bed like a punishment she couldn’t refuse, it was evident that she wouldn’t listen to reason so he had to take matters into his own hands and make her comply. He didn’t love cooking and he didn’t hate it either, but he stepped into her kitchen like it was second nature and spent two whole hours making the most nutritious and uplifting soup he could muster with the few ingredients he could find, knowing full well anything at all in her stomach would be enough.

While she slept, because she fell into a very, very deep sleep as soon as the medicine took effect, Taehyung started cleaning her house. In a brief moment of clarity he caught himself in a mirror, holding three pink mugs, a trashbag with tissues and one of her ruffled fluffy blankets hung over his shoulder to fold later. He stopped in his tracks at the unrecognizable image and blinked slowly, then shook his head and kept walking. If any of his mates could see him now, they would think him a stranger. He didn’t recognize the man looking back at him either, and it made the palpitations in his chest vibrate all over his ribcage in all sorts of weird ways. A man capable of taking so much life, suddenly brought to his knees at the thought of hearing her sniffle too loudly.

He tried to convince himself that he owed this to her - which he did, honestly - and that it was all that was happening. That no one else would have been able to convince her to just take care of herself, which might have just been true given that Grant was unsuccessful and Jane - the person she trusted most in the world - was nowhere to be seen. It made him think that she despised opening up to anyone, being vulnerable, which just propelled his curiosity forward.

Throughout the night, and because sleep avoided him like the plague, he checked on her constantly. In fact, he alternated between looking at her books and sneaking into her room to check her temperature. In those odd moments where he found himself caressing the skin of her face looking for any signs of fever, he also took the moment to analyze the possible reasons for not wanting to stop. It didn’t make much sense to him that anyone could keep his mind so occupied with their image for hours on end. He had never experienced grabbing a book - from her library - and suddenly picturing the female lead as her. Unprecedented levels of obsession that frightened him and excited him in equal measure.

It became pretty clear to him what books she enjoyed more than others. Plenty of them had bookmarks around the middle, as if she hadn’t finished them. Others had creased corners and marks that indicated a thorough and enjoyed read, even with notes and post its on them. Taehyung hated when people creased books and wrote on them. Whenever he borrowed a book from Namjoon and found comments on corners or pages bent in awkward angles in the absence of a book mark, it made his skin crawl. Examining Y/n’s books, however, he suddenly found the image of used and reused books charming, like the happiness or fulfillment they must have brought her were palpable.

While sitting on her armchair, holding the most used and annotated book he could find - ergo her favorite - he pondered long and hard about his current situation. The series of events in his existence that had led him to a life of crime were clear. The series of events that had led to holding a woman’s life so close to his chest were also clear: Y/n was unfortunate enough to have met William and William had been stupid enough to get into business with Bangtan. The reasoning, however, for caring so deeply about this woman’s wellbeing is what eluded him completely, feeling completely protective and concerned for her at all times. Fine, she was beautiful, smart and creative, all wonderful characteristics that should not matter in his line of work. Bangtan didn’t take in any more stray dogs than the original seven, because they had to admit at one point that’s all they ever were, so taking pity on her was out of line and not an option. Had he merely taken pity on her, sending a low level member to check on her every now and then would have been enough, but Taehyung had appointed Grant - the man that had served him loyally for his whole criminal life - to be whatever she needed from him. As if that didn’t suffice, on multiple occasions Taehyung had dropped everything to run in her direction, surprising not only himself, but the members as well.

His hand traveled lazily from his forehead to his chin, exasperated, and with a sigh he stood up to pace around the living room. His face twisted suddenly in the direction of her door, slightly ajar, and he wondered for a moment if it was too soon to check on her again. He discarded the idea with a shake of his head and looked out the window instead. Y/n’s apartment had a wonderful view of the city skyline, which distracted him, if only for a brief moment, about the torment of emotions that rattled in his mind.

He was on page 324 by the time Y/n woke up in the middle of the night. With a beating heart and a tense jaw he waited for her footsteps to end by the couch and her soft voice to speak as she said: “Why are you awake at-” Her eyes studied the clock on the wall behind him quickly “-4 a.m”

Although he knew she was bound to wake up eventually, and having fallen asleep before dark it would be at an odd hour, he clearly wasn’t ready to see her yet. Admitting to her that everyone of his thoughts was being consumed by her existence and not even Jane Austen’s wonderful style could distract him from it wasn’t an option. Explaining that he would not have been able to fall asleep even if a car dropped on his head seemed like a similarly bad idea, so he chose to simply close the book and say: “Reading.”

“Thank you for coming today” She had softly spoken.

“Are you feeling better?” Was the only thing he mustered out without losing his voice.

After receiving a quick nod and a soft ‘yes’ Taehyung decided his job there had concluded. While standing up he pointed to the medicine and quickly instructed her to take it, no room for argument. While turning around and fully aware that he had to carefully consider his behavior over the past few weeks as soon as he got home, he decided to let an impulse win and say what was on his mind.

“Y/n” Her name felt illegal in his mouth, but he continued anyway. “You need to take care of yourself.” I was worried sick, he wanted to say. “Grant was worried sick”

She laughed it off quietly and suggested apologising to him with doughnuts, which Taehyung didn’t really understand, so he skipped right past it and continued his journey to the door, grabbing his jacket in the process.

“You are leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

Taehyung cursed his life a few more times as he turned around and asked, with the straightest face he could muster. “Do you need me to stay?” It would have been a bold faced lie if he said part of him didn’t hope she said ‘yes’.

“It’s 4 a.m” She reminded him, as if he wasn’t fully aware that it had been more than twenty four hours since he last slept.

“I’m aware, but I’ve overstepped into your life enough” He meant every word. “You look much better and you have learnt your lesson, I hope” He still doesn’t know why he said that, but there you go. “I shouldn’t intrude any further”

His hand turned on the doorknob, almost free from the torment of her sight. So, so close to being outside and starting to build the walls he was so used to.

“Wait, I- I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough, for… well, everything”

Fucking hell.

Not only was she an endearing sight of hope and wonder when he turned around, but she was clearly desperate for some sort of interaction between them. Was this woman so used to handling things by herself that she thought of him as a savior? Was that admiration he saw in her eyes? The concept of him saving anyone was ridiculous, not to mention the only thing he had caused her time and time again was harm.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything” And he meant it.

Then she proceeded to list the things any human being with a brain would have done for her if she asked: “You save me from my ex, you save me from the weirdo at the club and now you save me from myself. I think that’s plenty to be grateful for.”

The blood inside his veins was starting to boil to the point where it might just evaporate. It was frustrating enough to learn that she didn’t understand that he was the root of her issues, but what made his skin crawl was how quickly she could attach to anyone who cared even a little. He had to run away, he had to establish limits, he had to move to another country and save her from himself.

“I’m no savior, Y/n, you’d do well to remember that. I did this because Grant asked, because there was no one else stupid enough to come heer and try to talk some sense into you. Because you wouldn’t have listened to Grant, or Jane, or Lila.”

He could have probably been softer, but the urge to redirect her away from him was so strong he couldn’t help it. “I certainly don’t deserve anyone’s gratitude, especially yours, so save it. Please take your medicines and let Grant know if you need anything.”

Finally opening the door and stepping out he uttered a last: “Goodnight, Y/n.” With the conviction that he should never bother this woman again in her life.

Three nights later, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and leaning against the window of his apartment Taehyung reflected on his life choices. Not too much, because he might as well end up shooting himself in the foot. The penthouse was lifeless and dark, since he never got around to decorate it to his taste, and with the lights off the view of the city at night was enchanting in a way that only sort of eased his mind.

His final decision was to never interfere with her life again. After learning that she was no longer sick he only doubled down on his choices. It was for the best, after all. Grant would take care of anything else she needed and eventually Bangtan would be gone from her life, just as soon as William was six feet under and no one else dared bother her. Taehyung would take care of that.

The high pitched ringing of his phone startled him and removed any sort of peace he might have found since he decided never to see Y/n again.

Placing the now empty glass back down on the table he glanced at the number, he didn’t quite recognize it, but he picked it up anyways. Since it was his personal phone it could be anyone from a distributor to any of his clubs to any other business issues outside of Bangtan.

“Yes?” He answered curtly.

“Mr Kim?” A gentle feminine voice he didn’t recognize greeted him. A mere acknowledging grunt on his part urged her to continue, not in the mood to talk at all. “I’m Lila, from-”

He didn’t need her to continue, because as soon as she said her name he knew it was your studio. Without interrupting her, though, his eyes widened slightly and he almost dropped the phone. He knew exactly how that phone call was going to go and he hadn’t thought about it at all in so long that he had almost forgotten.

“-but I’m sure you remember. I was calling in regards to the project you wanted to take on with us?” She had continued to softly explain on the phone as he gathered his courage and thoughts.

“Yes?” He knew her next words. He despised her next words. How had he forgotten about this?

“I’m happy to tell you we have accepted your proposal. Y/n would love to take on the beach house.”

To be continued…

A/n: Just when he decides to step back, she ropes him back in! Hope you liked it! Comment what you think and remember Taglist is Open!

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Outwardly, nothing changes. He still greets you the same way, warmth settling into his bones the moment he sees you. His hand still finds your back, his thumb still traces those small, absent patterns against your skin. His voice stays gentle. Familiar. Steady.

But inside, everything aligns.

He starts with timing.

He adjusts his schedule without telling you, shifting meetings, moving pieces so that his arrivals and departures line up perfectly with yours. You’re never alone, not really. If he can’t be there, someone he trusts is already nearby, invisible, blended into the rhythm of the city. He changes routes quietly, never the same path twice, never predictable. You don’t notice. You’re not meant to.

He walks you home more often now. Insists, but softly. Like it’s habit, not protection.

You notice something, though.

He’s closer. His arm tightens around you more often. He holds you a second longer when you part, fingers curling at your coat sleeve like he’s reluctant to let the night take you away from him. At home, he pulls you into his chest, solid and unmoving, like he’s anchoring himself as much as you are.

You feel it in the way he listens, sharper, more intent. In the way his gaze lingers when you talk about your day, mentally mapping places and times. You know him too well not to sense the tension under his calm.

But he never lets it touch you.

One night, after walking you to your building, he lingers on the pavement instead of following you inside. He tells you he needs to take a call. You hesitate, then nod, trusting him as you always do.

He waits until you’re safely through the door.

Then he turns.

The street is quiet. Too quiet. Headlights glow at the far end of the road, stationary, aimed directly towards him. He can’t see who’s inside, not clearly. But he knows they can see him.

He stands there deliberately, hands in his coat pockets, posture relaxed. Unhurried. He meets the gaze he can’t quite see and holds it, unflinching, like a message carried on presence alone.

I see you.

He doesn’t approach. Doesn’t provoke. He lets the silence stretch, lets them wonder how much he knows. Then he turns away first, walking back to his car like nothing in the world concerns him.

Behind the scenes, everything moves.

His men start mapping, rival territories, recent shifts, unfamiliar faces crossing invisible borders. Phone records are pulled. Surveillance reviewed. Patterns drawn. Names whispered and confirmed. Namjoon watches it all with detached focus, calm to the point of unsettling.

When the answer finally comes, it doesn’t surprise him.

He feels only a quiet, almost disappointed sense of satisfaction. Like solving a problem that should never have existed in the first place.

He handles it himself.

Cold composure. Steady hands. No raised voice. No wasted motion. A weapon rests easy in his grip, familiar as an extension of his will. There is no anger in him, only resolve. The kind that ends things permanently.

Kim Namjoon is very good at what he does.

Too good.

When he comes back to you, the night already feels lighter. You curl into him without hesitation, his body warm and solid behind you. He wraps around you instinctively, forehead resting against the back of your neck, breathing you in like he always does.

You sigh in your sleep.

He tightens his hold just a fraction.

“You’re safe with me,” he murmurs into the dark, voice low and certain. “Always.”

You don’t hear the finality in it.

But the city does.

And anyone who ever considers threatening his peace, you, learns one immutable truth far too late.

You were off-limits.

In time, father will raise his hand to indicate them to stop. A stop signal. He may leave the room out of boredom but he will return just as he always does in order to demand them to leave you alone. He will never be satisfied but there is always a limit to everything and father sometimes gets too bored to keep seeing it, to keep hearing it, so he’s always there to stop it.

Eventually.

Eventually.

You just have to endure it for now until the signal comes, until—

“What are you doing?!”

You didn’t realize it and perhaps that’s because you blacked out, your mind keeping you from feeling it all completely, trying to protect you, but you’re sitting on the ground when a call demands out an answer in a loud, commanding voice, and a rushing of a pair of feet running over to push Karl off you.

Asher punches Karl right in the face, throwing him off you, before demanding the guards he has with him to hold the man back.

“She provoked me!” Karl argues like a child in a kid’s play.

He’s never been abruptly stopped before. Always angry, never satisfied.

Nothing is ever enough when it comes to the two of them. 

Karl landing hurt through his fists and weapons and anything he can get a hand on. Your father landing hurt through his commands, watching and watching and watching.

And you, their victim, who has to stay down and accept it all until there is a small amount of satisfaction that calls at them to stop.

You always wait on that call, no matter how much endurance it takes.

“That doesn’t make it right to lay your hand on a woman!” Asher retorts with anger laced in his tone, and this anger, despite how different it is from that of Karl’s, still shakes you violently though you keep as still as ever, paralyzed.

Paralyzed.

Even when the anger does not fall on you, even when he does not turn to you but towards the companion who stands behind you, who had stood still this whole time. “And what are you doing? Your boss was getting hit and you just stood there?”

Yeonjun, with a snap on cue, kneels over to your side and looks down at you with widened eyes and a frozen expression. He doesn’t touch you right away, cautious, but you see what those eyes mean, you know exactly what that expression is telling you.

That he, too, had reverted back to the past.

When your father still lived, when he had to stand by and watch everything without moving a muscle.

He reverted back just as you had.

Two little kids, who're still affected by the traumas of the past.

Two little kids.

You take Yeonjun’s hand, giving him the permission to touch you, so he helps you back onto your feet and the two of you remain in silence as you walk off with his help, not daring to look Karl in the eyes, not caring to reply to Asher.

But you feel yourself trembling with the presence of a pair of eyes boring right into your back. Not from Asher or Karl or the two guards but from someone else.

The ghost of him.

Of that man.

That man named father.

.

.

.

“Y/N?” There’s concern in Jungkook’s voice when you walk into the room and you guess that’s probably because of the state you’re in, but right now you can’t entertain him so you simply hold a hand up, asking him to stay back, and Jungkook, though worried, leaves the room on your behalf.

When you’re left alone with Yeonjun, you let your legs give in to sit on the floor rather than finding a chair or taking a seat on the bed.

The floor is comfortable. It’s always been more comfortable.

The boy takes your heels off, along with your jacket, and despite the sting of the pain that aches over your body, the only thing on your mind is the fact that you let it happen so easily, that you allowed yourself to walk back into that state of being an obedient and perfect little doll.

You reverted back to the damages just when you thought after father’s death, you wouldn’t let anyone walk over you anymore.

But it isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy.

And it will never be easy.

Father still lives in your head rent free and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much time has passed, nothing will change. It’s already been a little over a year since his death but he’s still here, still thriving, mocking you, taunting you, controlling everything that you are.

You’re shaking, trembling, not just out of fear but out of anger. Angry at yourself. For being so weak, for reverting back, for thinking things could get better.

And with Yeonjun the only one here with you at the moment, you lean into his touch and let yourself into his arms to allow the sort of warmth only your Reapers can provide you.

Yeonjun’s heartbeat won’t be the same as Mingyu’s, it’s probably even beating rapidly right now, so you don’t let your ear rest against his chest and instead wrap your arms over his neck and climb into his lap to lay your cheek against his shoulder.

Yeonjun brings his hand over to rub down your back but he’s a little awkward and unsure because he’s never really had to do this; comforting you. It’s always been Mingyu, and if Mingyu wasn’t there, it’d be Yuna, and if Yuna couldn’t do it, it’d be Dasom, or someone else.

Anyone else.

He’s only a kid after all, just eighteen years old, the youngest of your Reapers, but because no one else is here, he does his best to pick up the role that’s been given unto him.

Yet you feel him tremble slightly himself and you guess that in some way, he must be afraid as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I didn’t…I…”

You know what he’s trying to say, that he failed you, that he couldn’t protect you. But can you really blame him? Because just as you’ve been trained to endure through the pains and take everything that’s given unto you, Yeonjun, the Reapers, were trained to stand by and watch.

Habits are scary.

Frightening.

And because you don’t know how to console him and he doesn’t know how to console you, the two of you remain in silence simply holding onto one another.

Just two little kids having to rely on each other.

Just two little kids.

And after a little while, when things have settled a little more, when he starts shaking a little less, Yeonjun gathers himself and forces himself out of the state he’s in.

He stands up and you watch him leave for a second, not too long, because he rushes, and returns with materials in hand to begin tending to you. It remains as quiet as ever between the two of you, but you see the way his brows furrow in concentration and he stops himself from staying in the mindset of a teenager.

Of a child.

He becomes an adult, a reliable adult. For you. Applying what’s needed on the bruises that have swelled up, wrapping your arm with bandages, and when you frown with disgust at the sight of the white wrapping on you, wanting it off, complaining, he doesn’t fall into your trap and stands his ground just as he’s seen Mingyu do plenty of times.

Yeonjun gets frightened of you at times but he always listens to your every command and does all that you ask him within a heartbeat, but today he grows a pair of wings and knocks you lightly on the head with his knuckles when you try to push him away, when you get stubborn with him.

“Do you want to die?” You glare at him but he doesn’t give in.

“You can kill me after I treat you,” he says and continues his ministrations.

“I hate it,” you tell him. “I don’t like it, this…this white.” You try to scratch at yourself but he grabs your hand before you can and your face scrunches up with anguish. “Get it off me.” 

You tug the pearls on your neck and it scatters onto the floor but you don’t care and move on to the white dress, yet Yeonjun stops you once more.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were.” And because he knows the signs, because he’s seen it plenty of times in you, he grabs the sleeve, rips it, then the hem of the dress, and tears that as well without doing too much. “See? Look. Imperfect.” You hate perfect things and seeing that, the tears of the dress, alleviate a bit of your drumming heartbeat, so Yeonjun grabs a pair of scissors to start cutting off bits of your dress.

All your life you’ve been told to be perfect, that everything you do must be under the command of your father. He made you into his perfect little doll, his perfect little weapon, prepared you for the battlefield, prepared you for war.

For the war that he brought, for the war that was his.

Or rather, he was the war itself.

You are a weapon, and weapons do not weep. Weapons are used and weapons do not run off on their own. Weapons are perfect, they fire at the command of their owner, they’re silent when told, and left to waste if they do not do their job.

You’ve never wanted to be left to waste, you’ve never wanted to be dropped back into an empty room, the White Room, and never picked up again.

“I look broken,” you utter a whisper as if shocked at the image of yourself when you look down at the mess of your dress and the white bandages on your body. Your brows are knitted, teeth grinding on each other, fingers dug into the skin of your palm, eyes red but as always, they refuse to cry.

Because weapons do not weep.

And Yeonjun, for a second, almost panics, thinking he did something wrong, but in Mingyu’s wise words, “Just because it looks like I know what I’m doing when it comes to boss does not mean that is the truth. It is far from the truth. There are times when it feels like I’ve messed up, times when I’m about to panic because she responds differently from what I imagined, but you cannot ever show her that you do not know what you’re doing. Ever. Just pretend when you’re in that position, and if you’re good at pretending, she won’t know a thing,” Yeonjun quickly pulls himself back up.

“You don’t look broken,” he puts the scissors down and takes your two trembling fists. “You look imperfect.”

You look imperfect.

Imperfect.

It does the trick.

He sees the way the crease between your brows starts to soften, how your clenched jaw loosens, the way you let him help your fingers unravel from the strength they held digging into yourself, and how your shoulders fall a bit from being so hunched up.

“I look imperfect?” You ask him, eyes wide and puppy-like, darting right to him and though they shake slightly, they look towards him for an answer, for reassurance, to detect any lie, to seek for the truth. But also pleading, also begging for him to say just that.

Even if the lie must disguise itself as the truth.

“You do,” so Yeonjun lies skillfully. “You look imperfect, boss.”

There’s a breath of relief, quiet and subtle, and it comes in a whisper just barely there. Yeonjun keeps you close and presses a palm to your chest, just where your heartbeat strums.

“Now count,” he tells you. “Mingyu says counting is good, right? Count until he gets here.”

“Is he coming?” You ask when he takes both your hands to take over where his palm once lay.

“Yes,” he lies again. He hasn’t made the call yet. “Soon.”

“You have to stay here.”

“I will.”

“No one can come in.”

“I know.”

“Don’t talk to him, don’t let Karl anywhere near me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m tired.”

“Alright, come here.” He pulls you in carefully into his lap, in his arms, and you let yourself be warmed and comforted in his arms once more, this time with your back pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. “The nightmares…they’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll visit. And he’ll try to make me perfect all over again.”

He. Your father.

“I don’t want to be perfect.” It isn’t a command, it’s a plea. A desperate cry for help.

“Then don’t sleep. But count the heartbeats, yeah? Count.” The soft lure of his voice, gentle, encouraging.

With hands still pressed against your chest, you let your ear tune out everything else in order to hear the beat of your heart so that you can start counting them.

One. Two. Three…

It’s fast and you know that you can’t completely count every individual one of them but you try your best to simply concentrate on only that while your eyes stare out at the window a few feet away. The sun shines brightly from the opened curtains and there’s a small little bird perched on the closest tree.

It jumps onto a branch and rests there with its head moving about in different directions.

There are pretty white clouds up above and one of the bigger ones shapes like a castle and you imagine fairies up there, hiding.

There’s another cloud that looks like a cat and another one shaped like a ghost.

The wind blows and your eyes turn back to the bird that flies off.

Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…

It’s slowing down, just slightly.

.

.

.

“I heard what happened this afternoon.”

Kiwi keeps you distracted as he nibbles with your finger. You can’t recall when he’s decided to hang around you rather than his own master whenever you’re around but at least it gives you a reason to not look someone in the eyes.

“Would you like to tell me what happened from your perspective?”

Thirty-something years old. You can’t even remember just how old you are but lately, it hasn’t mattered in the slightest because you feel much younger than what you actually are. Like you’re twenty-something. Even a teen. It doesn’t feel like you’ve aged much.

Your birthday hasn’t been celebrated since your time at the Bangtan manor but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters.

Because you feel like a kid back under the control of your father, having to do what you’re told, obeying his every command like someone who can’t do anything on her own.

Under scrutiny.

“What did Karl tell you?” You pop a question of your own, eyes still unfocused, mind still trying to pretend you’re fine, that you’re okay in a room full of strangers.

There’s only one stranger but a stranger nonetheless.

“He said you provoked him.”

“That’s right.” You don’t deny it and instead nod, expression blank so that Alexander cannot tell what’s going on inside your head. And maybe he does, maybe all of this faking is futile because he’s so wise, but you don’t care. You keep still, you keep vague, and you remain cold.

“Is that so…?” He trails off, perhaps thinking, and you can feel his eyes never leaving you. “And what was it that you did to have provoked him?”

“I told him something he didn’t like.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I killed his best friend.”

“And did you?”

“I did.”

“And who was that?”

“My father.”

He pauses, perhaps because he hadn’t expected that answer but you’re sure he’s thinking back on the moment when you first mentioned your father to him. The “story” you gave him was that your father passed away and was a good friend of Karl’s, though you never mentioned anything else about it. 

And now here’s the answer; you killed him yourself.

“Is that why you let Karl do what he did?” He asks you. “Because you thought you deserved the punishment for what you did? Some people may not regret their actions but they’ll let the person most affected do something against them. Was that how it was?”

No.

No, not at all.

You didn’t let Karl hurt you because you knew he’d be hurt by what you did. You didn’t let him hurt you because you thought he at least deserved to lash his anger out on you. Or that you felt bad. Or that you wanted some sort of punishment. Or that you were repenting.

You let Karl hurt you because you’d always let him hurt you, just as you’d always let everyone hurt you.

Because that was how it always was.

A habit.

Being the weaker one, being the one who would chant the words endure, endure because that was what was instilled in you from the moment Mister Butler died. You cannot get out of your habits that easily, you do not just get stronger because you vow to yourself you will.

You don’t just get stronger and you certainly don’t just decide ‘I won’t let anyone step over me anymore’ and succeed on the first try.

Or the second try.

Or the third.

Even the tenth or hundredth time.

You let Karl hurt you because you were used to it and your body, remembering how it always was before your father died, returned to those habits.

The habits of staying still, the habits of enduring all that came at you.

“Yes.” But you lie because what else is there to say? You lie because there is nothing else to say. Because you don’t want to tell the truth. Because the truth means explaining and explaining means opening up and opening up means trusting and trusting never ends well.

You lie because you have to.

“That is all there is to it.” You put Kiwi down onto the floor and stand up straight, making sure to look in the old man’s direction with your hands held together in a formal stance. “Karl’s story is the whole truth. I deserved what he did, for killing his best friend, for killing my father.”

His brows are furrowed and you sense doubt in his eyes but because he has no proof and because you’re not willing to share anything else with him, he can’t push you too hard about the matter. “Whether that is the truth or not, do you really think a man much older and bigger has the right to hurt a woman younger and smaller in stature? No–” he fixes his sentence, “do you think a man is in his right to hurt a woman?”

“A man is capable of hurting anything that he wishes to hurt. He is in the power to do so.”

“You are strong, Y/N.” He stands to meet your eyes, serious, calm, and collected, but there’s a little twitch in his brows to indicate that he feels a bit frustrated by the situation. “You are capable of dodging his attacks. Even if a man were much bigger and stronger than you, you have the brains to outsmart them. You don’t look like someone who will easily let someone else step all over you.”

No. You are exactly just that. You are still the little girl you thought had changed. You’re still weak.

“So I’ll ask you again, Y/N; why did you let Karl hurt you?”

You hate feeling caged in and right now, despite the fact that only Alexander stands in this room, you feel eyes from all over. And maybe that’s just you being paranoid, maybe you’re just making it all up in your head, but you hate every bit of it. 

Every bit of this.

“I gave you my answer, take it with a grain of salt. Do not pretend to be on my side.” And with that, you turn your back to him and walk off without another word.

Alexander doesn’t chase after you but you feel his eyes.

It’s ironic the way you’re supposed to be the one trying to gain his favor and yet this happens; you pushing him away and putting up your walls. And Asher makes sure to remind you of that.

“Isn’t the whole point of you being here to gain his favor?”

He stops you in the middle of the hall when you’re heading back to the guest room.

“Why?” He asks, genuinely curious, maybe even with a bit of genuine concern in that tone.

“Maybe I’m tired,” you say in a quiet voice.

“Of?”

“Of trying to be likable.”

He hums, considering the answer with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And that young bodyguard of yours,” he brings up Yeonjun, “he may be a kid but don’t you think he deserves punishment for failing you?”

“No.” You reply easily and Asher raises a brow.

“You won’t punish him?”

“I don’t blame him.”

He watches you as if you were a strange being, like you weren’t making sense, though there’s a bit of unease that marks his features, some sort of disturbance that troubles his thoughts and you realize that you’ve said too much so you start walking again.

“My people aren’t allowed to act unless I tell them to.”

But Asher doesn’t want to leave it with just that. “You wanted my uncle to hurt you?”

“Nobody wants to get hurt willingly, Asher.”

“Then what is it?”

You’re talking too much.

“It is none of your concern, that’s what it is.” With that, you pick up your steps and walk into the room before he can push you any further.

Jungkook is in there when you walk in, and although being left in a room with just him should trigger some sort of response, surprisingly you don’t tremble that easily and perhaps that’s due to the fact that somehow, in some way, your body just knows that Jungkook doesn’t pose any threat to you. Perhaps because somehow, in some way, you’ve learned to put some trust in him in just the slightest way through the times he’s spent acting as your guard.

It’s been a little over a month.

Mingyu came here prior to your meeting with Alexander and surprisingly you didn’t need him as much as you thought you did. You think that’s because Yeonjun managed to calm you down well, despite his perpetual fear in the beginning. He picked himself up in time, after all, and was there for you by mirroring what Mingyu would have done.

Maybe in some ways, your right hand man has trained all the Reapers in how to respond to you when he isn’t around.

He took Yeonjun away for something, though right now you aren’t too concerned about it.

“..Kook.”

You feel tired, you feel drained, and that’s why you’ve managed to only call Jungkook by a shortened name.

He’s responsive at the first call, despite how quiet your voice is, and when he sees that you’ve given him permission to come in close contact with you, he doesn’t hesitate to walk over to you.

“Do you need something?”

It’s odd the way you feel some sort of relief he’s as responsive as he used to be all those years ago. Maybe because a part of Jungkook will always remain the way that he always was, maybe that’s why you’ve learned to associate him with a figure that you can put a bit of trust in.

“When are they coming?”

“They?” He tilts his head and when you reach a hand out towards him, he takes it in order to help you because you feel your legs are weak in the knees.

“Namjoon. Them.” He takes you to the bed so that you can lie down.

“In a month or so,” he replies. “You said as much time as you need to gain Alexander’s favor but the latest would be in a month.”

You’re already winning so what’s the point in waiting? 

It’s been a month, over a month.

You just want to go home already.

“Can you call him?”

Jungkook looks for his phone. “What for?”

“Tell him to come earlier,” you say, body turned over towards him, cheek against the pillow, eyes drowsy. “In a week. I don’t…Karl has…I want him dead.”

For a second his thumb hovers over his phone to look back over at you and there he finds, the little girl he’s seen holding her walls up so high not even a plane can cross over, beginning to crumble in just the slightest way.

You look exhausted.

The makeup does not hide the bags under your eyes, it doesn’t hide the exhaustion, how drained you are over all of this. And maybe a part of that is due to your insisting to stay awake when you needed sleep but a big part of it is the mission itself.

Every mission is a little different from the other, but Jungkook has come to know that every one of them involves someone who has sucked all that sweet girl energy out of you. They’ve all done you wrong and it can’t be easy. It can’t be easy having to face all of them one by one, trying to deal with it all, trying to rid of them, and ultimately as a result, hurting yourself in the process.

“Kook?” Your eyes went closed for a second but upon his silence, you open them up again in order to look up at him, and due to your exhaustion, he finds the pretty girl he once loved all those years ago with the smallest voice as if calling out for him in a sense of help.

“I-I’ll call.” He’s flustered, slightly, but hits the call button with his thumb and walks towards the bathroom. “Stay awake, alright? I won’t be away for too long.”

He closes the door behind him to start looking around for something just as Namjoon picks up on the other end.

“Jungkook?”

“Y/N wanted me to tell you to come earlier.”

“Earlier?” It’s surprising on his end because just the night before, you told him to stick to the original plan. “Did something happen?” Of course something must’ve happened for you to change your mind so quickly.

In some ways you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he knows you aren’t someone who will change your mind that easily.

“This afternoon, uh…” Jungkook hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to relay him the news but something tells him you probably expect Jungkook to not stay silent about it to the boys. They share everything with each other after all, and if you really cared, you wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you after what happened. “Karl, you know, after touching her when she felt uncomfortable?” He did mention the incident a few weeks ago to Namjoon already. “Well, Y/N took up his invitation to tea in order to catch up and stuff and I assume she pissed him off.”

Somehow, Namjoon expected that. After all, you hinted at doing something reckless during your call with him. 

“I’m not sure what happened exactly because I wasn’t there but Karl hit her.”

“What?” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “What do you mean hit her?”

“Not just once. She has bruises as a result.”

“Bruises?”

“I should get back to her, she might fall asleep but I’ll catch up with you later.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply before cutting the call off and returning to your side out of worry that leaving you alone for too long won’t be good, and the fact that you might have actually fallen asleep on him.

Surprisingly you’re still awake, though your eyes are as droopy as they were when he left you.

“Can you turn over on your back?” Is the first thing he asks of you and you obey, turning over. The bed dips a little when he takes a seat beside you and that’s when you feel he begins to take your lashes off.

“You know there’s a lot of processes that go into taking off makeup, right?” You tell him when he takes the other one off.

“I know, bub, I’ve done it before.”

Right.

He’s helped you before.

“So just stay still, yeah? You don’t have to do anything.”

You listen to the lure of his voice, as soft as the way he used to speak to you all those years ago, and let your eyes close as he begins to swipe the makeup wipe over your face. It’s gentle the way he does it, almost as gentle as Dasom, and although he’s a little clumsy and isn’t as fast as she is, he does his best during it all.

When the makeup wipe is done, you feel your hair pushed back and a band coming over to keep it out of the way, then some sort of cloth on your chest and tied behind your neck.

Warm water walks over your face. Bits of it, not too much, not too little, so that you don’t get too wet anywhere else, and then the feel of soapy foam begins to rub in circles all over your face. The massage feels nice and you almost feel your consciousness slipping away but you keep awake to the touch of Jungkook’s hands.

About a minute later, he soaks a washcloth into water and starts to wipe the cleanser off you so that you don’t have to sit up and wash it off with water yourself.

It takes a moment but eventually, he gets it done, and then you feel a wet cotton pad swipe over next.

Something about all of this, the steps he memorized either for you from the past or the fact that he now does it himself regularly, feels rather domestic and just…soft.

And in your sleepy and tired state, you feel anything but uncomfortable, lured in with the feeling of basking on top of clouds with your head bathing under the warm sun with light little pitter patters of rain sprinkling over you.

You don’t know why you enjoy this so much despite how different it feels from when Dasom does it for you, but knowing that your trust is beginning to leak outside of Reapers somehow brings a sort of comfort you never thought you’d feel.

It’s a little frightening because trusting is always scary, especially for people that had once broken it, but for some reason, it just…feels right.

Somehow.

And maybe that’s because you know they were never at fault in the first place, that they were just forced into making an unwanted decision. 

Jung Hoseok would probably be in the same position as they were were he to realize the truth all those years ago. If he hadn’t gotten hurt on that mission. If he hadn’t been forced to lay on the infirmary bed in order to recover. If he hadn’t stood away from the six of them.

Even still, as you’ve said it plenty of times before, just because someone doesn’t mean them doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

In the safe space that they provided you, you were kicked out of your own comfort and forced to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.

“Why do you not cry?” His voice keeps you awake and when you look up at him through your lashes, eyes feeling quite dreary and heavy, he finds himself pausing in his ministrations as he stares down at you who’s looking up directly at him.

“Why do you ask that?” You return a question, voice just as soft.

Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face. “Karl…he…” he didn’t see what happened but the aftermath of it is right before his eyes. “And Leehyun and…..” He presses his lips together. “You have..so much to cry for.”

“...Do I now?”

“Is there nothing left?” He asks, a hand brushing back small strands of hair that tries to block your eyes.

You don’t nod because you’re too tired to move so you nod through a blink. “It’s all dried up.”

From the water that he used to clean your face, a drop falls from your lash and trails down your cheek, mirroring what a teardrop looks like, and then you say, “But…if I knew how to cry……do you think you deserve to see them?”

He doesn’t reply but you have your answer.

He doesn’t feel worthy.

This Jungkook and the Jungkook you once knew long ago are the same in the way they always feel unworthy of something. No matter how many times you can assure him, he will always think there is something he can do better, that he is undeserving, that he can never be enough.

But unlike idiots who simply say “I don’t deserve you” and go about their days after breaking your heart, Jungkook says it and steps up to do what he can to try and prove to himself that he can be someone deserving.

He always did all that he could and when there came a point when he looked as if he could finally come to terms with being at peace with his love for you, it was ripped away from him all too soon and now he’s back to square one, trying to prove himself.

Even if it isn’t in the form of love.

Jungkook will always care.

But even still,

“I still hate you.”

It comes out soft, it comes out quiet, and a little timid and a little brave, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out.

If you were wide awake, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable state, you would have never spoken those words to him. But because your consciousness is on the verge of slipping away, you speak them out loud for him to hear.

“I know.” And he replies in the same voice, the same softness, quiet, and timid, and brave.

He doesn’t leave your side even after those exchanges uttered unto each other and you fall asleep next to his presence, next to his comfort, next to his warmth.

.

.

.

Jungkook wasn’t there when Taehyung said he witnessed you sleepwalking but he said that it wasn’t the sort of sleepwalking you’d see in a normal person. He said you looked like a ghost more than anything, and that at times, you’d just stand still in the middle of the room and not move an inch.

No, not a ghost. A corpse.

And now here he is, after endless refusal to sleep and finally allowing your eyes to stay closed, he witnesses what Taehyung had meant.

A corpse standing still in the middle of the room, blanket over her shoulders, eyes staring up at the dim sky outside the window, blank and without any hint of life in them.

He watches you from a distance, a furrow in his brows, with his tongue bitten back and his fists clenched by his side.

Subtle anger lies in his heart, brewing, not at you but towards the world that has made you into the sort of person you are today. Or maybe it had always been this way, maybe you had always been hurting and he just never noticed, maybe it was always like this all along and maybe, perhaps, they made it worse when they left you all alone to fend for your own self.

Feeding you to the wolves.

He’s angry not just at the world but at himself and Jungkook knows that if the truth were to ever leave your lips about what actually happened to you, about all the things that you’ve gone through, he knows that this hatred he feels right now is only but a small fraction waiting to build up before it all breaks into the tiniest little pieces.

Shattering in the way he had broken you.

Shattered.

The world can only do so much but he encouraged it by standing by, by letting it all fall down onto you, by letting himself be convinced that you’d be fine, that everything would be alright.

But nothing turned out alright.

In the days and months and years that followed your absence, they returned to how things were, returned to loving one another, accepting one another, forgiving one another. But in those days and months and years, he can only imagine what sort of events you had to face.

While they had each other, while they always had each other to lean on, did you have anyone by your side?

The Reapers may be one thing, supporting you and giving you their utmost loyalty, but did they ever hold power over the things that happened to you in the way Namjoon could have handled it? In the way he would have handled it?

“Y/N?” You don’t answer him when he calls out to you but he expected that so he walks on over to where you’re standing.

You’re as still as ever, and he approaches with a careful, watchful gaze, hesitant when he reaches a finger over to you. 

A small touch to the blanket, just over your shoulder, and when you don’t freak out or move away from him, he puts two fingers. 

Then another.

Then another.

And when you don’t react to his hand, he proceeds to place a hand on your head and press it towards his chest.

You don’t resist.

“Come on, let’s head back to bed, yeah?” And understanding that you’re okay with him even in this lifeless state of yours, because he knows your body is capable of telling the people you trust and don’t trust apart, he puts his other hand under your knees and picks you up to carry you over back to the bed.

You comply well with him despite your unresponsive self, and when he tucks you back in with the blanket pulled over your chest, he looks back to see your eyes staring straight toward him. Empty yet lonely.

Vacant.

Not at him but through him, and his heart aches a little at the sight.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re alright.”

If Hoseok had been here, would he have been able to do a better job looking after you?

“I thought you might come back around here. Thought I would welcome you home again, angel.” He says with a smirk that’s almost audible. He slowly struts his way over to you, your eyes unwavering from the make of his dark silhouette. As you meet face-to-face again, you realize he’s still just as handsome as you remember and for a brief second, you can’t quite recall why you stayed away for so long. 

“You can’t call me that anymore. I’m not…” You trail off as Jungkook's movements take you off guard, head leaning down, breath that could just kiss your cheeks. His familiar scent hits you and the memories flood back in an instant, weakening your knees and nearly disarming you altogether. 

“You’ll always be my angel. Even when you run away without so much as a goodbye kiss.” He whispers, sneaking a hand into your hair, trailing down to your cheek. Jungkook pauses and holds his gaze on your lips. A tender laugh leaks out of his throat, and he brings his lips to ghost over your forehead. You freeze, feeling his warm lips on your skin again. 

You missed him. 

You missed him so much, you could wrap your arms around his neck and have him right there on the floor without a second thought - but you can’t. You could, but you know you shouldn’t. Your lives weren’t compatible. He killed people, he was in a dark business that played with drugs, fire and gambled in human lives. You were a regular, working woman, not even close to the kind of person who could stomach this constant close proximity to death. 

It wouldn’t work, not in the long run, so you left. Even though you loved him. You thought you could get away from this dangerous life, from the scary man he has become, you thought he might let you move on after six months. 

But boy, were you ever wrong. 

“I think I’ll have to punish you, angel. You’ve been a bad girl, leaving me all alone and only coming back to our house when you needed something from me.” He kept his lips against your head, teasing you with the ever so slight skin contact. He could feel you shiver beneath his simplest of touches. Jungkook knew then and there, that he still had absolute power over you. Just like you do over him. Still have over him. 

Before you could protest, he grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and pinning you to the couch nearby. You could do nothing but screech in surprise, fall beneath him and take whatever he was about to give you. He placed one hand over your two wrists, holding them above your head. Along with his knee nestled right between your legs. At the contact, you nearly let out a moan. You knew you missed him, but didn’t realize that the tiniest of touches had this deep of an affect on you still. 

“I have your passport, my love.” He pulls it from his jacket pocket to show you, before throwing it over his shoulder and away from the two of you. You can’t meet his eyes, you feel like you’ve betrayed him. You guess you have. 

“Do you really want to escape me so bad?” Jungkook asks, and for a brief second, his tough exterior dissolves. He looks… hurt. You see his eyes flicker between your own, looking for some sort of comfort, reassurance. You don’t see him like this very often, his sentimental side. But you both know this will only go one of two ways, and Jungkook needs to know how you feel. He’s showing you he’s still the man you fell in love with, that deep under that tough exterior, he still had a place for you in his heart.

“Baby?” He asks, taking you from your thoughts.

“Jungkook-” You start. “I never wanted to leave you, I just couldn’t be in that life anymore.” You hesitated, waiting to see if Jungkook would let you continue.

“You killed him, I saw it.” You confess. You hadn’t told Jungkook you saw him kill Yoongi at the time. His enemy that consumed his every waking second. You had gone into Jungkook’s gang bar in Itaewon, looking for your boyfriend. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, his drive to wage war against Yoongi consumed him entirely. He would text you he would be home shortly, then disappear for days on end with nothing reassuring you he was even alive. There was only so much you could take before the utter loneliness and worry drove you mad. 

That’s when you saw him, Yoongi, Jungkook’s long term rival, kneeling before your lover. He was bleeding, beat up so bad he could barely see out of his bruised up eyes. That’s when Jungkook placed the gun to his forehead. That’s when he pulled the trigger and took another man’s life in front of you. 

You simply ran at the sight, the shot still ringing in your ears. You never looked back after that, too afraid to confront the truth. Jungkook watched you run from him, and in that moment, he froze. He felt shame, he knew he needed to let you process for a while, but he never gave up on trying to get you back. Jungkook let you be for the last couple months, watching closely. It was only today he realized that he could really lose you for good, and that terrified him. 

“He wanted you, Y/N. Yoongi was coming after you to get to me. He wanted to hurt you and I-.” Jungkook breathed out, letting go of your pinned hands and sitting up straight. He felt his heart collapse at the thought, tears flooded his eyes. 

“Y/N, I don’t know what I would have done if he had got you.” He confesses back, pouring out his heart for you.

You sit up, staring at Jungkook in shock. You had never seen him cry before. Sure, you had seen him emotional in rage, denial and revenge, where he really showed his feelings. But never sadness, out of heartbreak, and never over you. 

“Please say something.” Jungkook cleared his throat, attempting to wipe the tears from his eyes. You jump to him at the sight, instantly rushing to his side. He may come with a dark past, but he is also just a man who loves you in this moment, showing you his whole heart. 

You could never resist him anyway. 

“Jungkook,” you hush, wiping his tears for him, holding his head in your hands. “I’m sorry I left you. I was scared. I didn’t believe my eyes and I couldn’t cope with what I saw. I ran in fear and didn’t care to understand. I was scared - scared of this life. But now I want to understand, you make me want to understand. I’m sorry for hurting you by running away, I didn’t mean to…” You confess.

You couldn’t control yourself around him, instantly abandoning your resolve the second he comes running. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to stay away in the first place. Perhaps you should have been more careful, perhaps you wouldn’t have gotten back into his bed if you had been… 

Jungkook looked up into your wet eyes and knew, he knew you meant every word you said. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved you for it. In this moment, you were his again and he wasn’t about to let you slip from his grasp. He’s got you back, and he’s going to keep you there if he has anything to do with it. 

A gasp escaped your throat the second Jungkook sprung on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch. He rested himself back between your legs, allowing your hips to meet. He was finally kissing you again with passion, fire, everything you missed and craved over the last six months. You moaned into his mouth and twisted your hands through his hair. He felt good, just as good as you remember. Everything was blurred, and as you kissed him back, letting his tongue meet yours, you couldn’t remember why you would ever run away from this. You were his. You knew it too.

“Angel,” Jungkook moaned into your mouth, and ever so slowly started making his way down to your throat. Your hips writhed under him, pushing up against him for more friction. 

“You’re so gorgeous for me, impatient too, but just as gorgeous as I remember.” He said in between kisses, one arm wrapped around your middle pushing you closer to him and the other pushing your shirt up to display your breasts. Once they were out on display for him, he let his mouth dance along them, and took your nipples into his mouth. You moaned at the sight and his wet touch, determined to get your pants off as soon as possible. 

“Jungkook, please.” You whined. Not having had him for months made you desperate. He could only laugh. 

“I know, angel. But I want to take my time with you, show you how much I missed you. How much I want to keep you, show you that you should stay.” He purred, making his way back up to your mouth. 

“Jungkook!-” You insisted, you could barely stand the foreplay at this point. You just really needed him inside you or it felt like you might combust. 

“Baby, you’re not listening to me.” He took your chin into his hand, centering your focus on him again. “Do I have to shut you up?” He smirked, looking into your eyes which were entirely dilated. “Be a good girl and take my finger in.” Jungkook slipped his pointer into your mouth, lubricating it. You immediately wrapped your lips around it and swirled your tongue around it. 

“Shit- The things you do to me, baby. Can you feel how hard you make me?” He pushed his covered length into your core, both of you sucking in air at the friction. 

“Slide your skirt up for me, angel.” He demanded, and you swear you never moved faster. 

“Oh. You dirty girl, Y/N.” He tsked as he realized you came all this way without wearing any underwear. Just for him. He glanced up at you, smiling. A genuine smile, and you couldn’t help but smile and giggle back. 

You planned for this, just in case. 

Nothing could encourage Jungkook to continue more than knowing his angel still wanted him, still planned to have him. 

“What can I say,” you started. “I can’t resist you, Jeon Jungkook.” You teased.

“God. I’m going to absolutely ruin you.” He bit his lips in anticipation and brought his mouth up to kiss you once more. He let his wet finger dance against your exposed core, playing with your clit and into your slit. Your back arched at the touch you had just nearly forgotten. 

“Jungkook!” You moaned, the tiniest of his touches setting you off. 

If you were already like this now, what were you going to be like in 5 minutes? 

“I think you’ve missed me, haven’t you, baby?” He kissed your mouth, swallowing your moans as his finger entered you. Pushing inside you, your brain shut down at the pleasure. You could do nothing but take it, Jungkook had this power over you. There was no doubt. 

“Tell me.” He encouraged, as he began slowly slipping his finger in and out of you. 

“Yes-“ you breathe, unable to think straight. 

“Yes what, baby?” He asked as he added another finger, filling you up even more. 

“Please, don’t stop-” Your heavy breaths cutting you off, trying to focus but unable to.

“Should I fuck you stupid, baby girl?” Jungkook purred, taking his tongue to your ear, letting the shivers travel down through your body.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim, not caring about the consequences in the slightest, all you want is him. The familiarity of your lover's arms, kiss and length. Him.

Jungkook then moved quickly to take his pants off, freeing him from his restraints and that much closer to actually having him inside you once again. It felt exhilarating, and forbidden, perhaps that’s why you craved it even more. 

Maybe you would feel silly about it later, however you now find yourself unable to take your eyes off of him while he strips for you. His strong stomach, tattoos that decorated his whole body, his hips, his weight that now settled on you and his large length now sliding up and down your aching hole. 

“Ready, baby?” Jungkook asked, kissing your neck and sliding his length up and down to gather your wetness. “God, you’re so wet, you’re dripping all over me.” He cooed, glancing down to see the mess you’ve made all over him. 

You could only focus on the feeling of him just barely entering you, only for his tip to pull out again. Your body was writhing under him, his arms locking your frame in place. 

“Please, Jungkook. I need you.” You whimpered, your fingers sliding up to his back, nails ever so slightly digging into his skin. You remembered how it drove him crazy over you. 

“Fuck, baby, okay.” He captured his lips with yours, finally pushing into you and bottoming out immediately. You gasped and clenched around him, squeezing him.

“Shit, don’t do that, baby girl. I’ll finish too quickly. You feel so good, just like I remember.” Jungkook kissed your cheeks, trying to distract himself from finishing inside you already. 

Finally, you began to relax around his length, needing him to move inside you and take you already. 

“Please- please move.” You encouraged, kissing his arms around your head that held him above you. 

“Okay, baby. I got you.” He purred, dropping to his elbows to get closer to you, moving his hips in the slightest. Immediately, you reacted to his touch, preparing to take him over and over again. God, how you missed him.

Jungkook set a brutal pace, barely preparing you for his hips running into yours repeatedly. However you could do nothing but take it, just how you liked it. It felt so good to have him take control and spoil you again. He was so strong, so caring in the moment like this. This, this was the Jungkook you knew and loved. He’s always there, like this, somewhere beneath the surface - you just hoped it could stay like this forever. 

You were taken from your thoughts and he plunged himself so deep into you, he made contact with your cervix and the pain mixed with the pleasure ran through your system. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaimed and his eyes immediately locked onto yours, full of concern. He then slowed down slightly. “You okay?”, you quickly reassured him.

“Yes, yes! It felt so good, please keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you wanted all of his pleasure and you know in the next moment, he would surely deliver.

Jungkook’s concern for you rapidly turned into a smirk and he continued with his pace. He locked his tatted arms around your head and shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist and he began pounding into you. Your head went into overdrive and could only focus on his tip hitting your G-spot over and over and over again. 

“Fuck! Jungkook, oh my-” He gently raised a hand to your throat, pressing the sides ever so slightly. He still remembered exactly what you liked in the bedroom, the movements and positions that had you seeing stars. He knows you like nobody else knows you. 

“You like this, don’t you baby?” Jungkook chuckles, watching your face curl up in pleasure. His length entering you over and over again, filling you up completely each and every time. 

“I’m gonna cum-” you managed to let out as the unstoppable pressure started building up in your tummy. 

“Me too, baby girl. Cum for me. Cum on this dick. Made just for you, only you…” Jungkook is whispering in your ear, his words taking you over the edge as he pounds into you. His length, his lips, his presence, his love - you can’t contain yourself anymore and you let yourself go, the white wave of pleasure finally releasing. “Shit, shit, you feel so good, baby”, Jungkook exclaims as he feels you clenching and finishing around his length. He can’t help but finish too, filling you and holding your body close to his as he does so. 

You two come down from your highs together, wrapped up in eachothers limbs, breathing heavily. It feels oddly intimate, and the feeling of his body weight on you feels euphoric. Sometimes you think you could die like this - Just desperately wanting to be so close to him like this. He’s your love after all, even if he’s done some bad things, you can still see the person underneath the facade. 

Your Jungkook. 

When the high passes, you two are able to think a little more clearly. The haze finally leaves your minds, and Jungkook sits himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes. You look at him, almost concerned, you now feel nervous about what he’ll say next. Your innermost fears and doubt creeping up on you in your moment of vulnerability. 

Will he leave now that maybe he’s gotten what he wanted from you? Will he threaten you? No, no surely not. He loves you, tonight has proven so… right?

“Y/N.” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts, “I can see what you’re thinking, you know?” He slightly smiles down at you, and instantly you feel more relaxed. You smile back a little too. 

“I know, I wear my emotions, you always told me.”

“You do, my love.” He coos, coming to kiss your lips ever so slightly. He then hovers above you slightly -

“...Do you regret it?” 

“What? No, no of course not.” You immediately refute. Your hands come up to comfort his concerned face, fingers wiping the tears that start to pour from his eyes a second time tonight. 

“I thought I had lost you for good, Y/N.” His resolve breaks and he tucks himself into your neck, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you close. 

“I don’t want to be without you - I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to be a man you’re ashamed of loving.” He cries into you, tearing falling onto you wet and warm. You start to tear up as you hear him sob, the tough-guy persona falling apart as he opens up to you. This was the Jungkook you were in love with. 

“I want to try and be better for you, for us. I want to be the man you need and deserve. I want us to be together, Y/N. Please, I want to change.” Jungkook kisses your neck, wet and all over. It tickles you as he reaches that one spot just beneath your ear, it leaves you giggling. He immediately whips his head to look at your expression below him. You're crying too, but smiling at him, looking at him so fondly.

“I love you, Jungkook. I do. I want to be with you, but we have to try and do better. No more of this life, we can leave together. For good, okay?” You look deep into his eyes, searching for reassurance. He smiles down at you once again, holding your hands on his face, fingers running over yours soothingly. 

“Okay. Let’s leave this life behind. We’ll move, we’ll get normal, boring 9-5 jobs and a little apartment together.” Jungkook giggles, and it makes you giggle as well.

“Can we get a little dog too?” You chime in, already loving the idea of your new life together that’s being imagined up before your eyes. 

“Yes, and two beds. One for sleep, one for sex.” He winks, kissing your palm. He wiggles his eyebrows, trying to win you over to the idea. You simply roll your eyes and eventually nod. You can’t resist him, especially like this. 

“Fine, but you’re doing the extra laundry then.” You smirk, Jungkook smiles softly back at you.

“I will. So long as I’m with you, everything is right in the world. I love you, angel.” 

“I love you too.”

//

Yoongi was on you in a matter of seconds, checking to see if you were hurt as they started driving away. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I’m fine, Yoongi, Namjoon stepped in before anything bad happened,” You spoke softly as you reassured him, his face and body visibly relaxing as you spoke. 

“We’ve got a tail,” Jungkook spoke softly as he reached up and pressed a button on the overhead console, opening up the sunroof. He reached down beside the seat he was in a picked up the AR-15, before he stood up on the seat and stood out of the roof, and started firing at the car behind you as Namjoon started moving faster, dodging between cars and taking sharp turns down alleys. 

It didn’t take long before there were multiple cars following you. Yoongi cursed under his breath as he noticed all of them piling up and narrowing in before he pulled out his handgun and leaned out of his window, firing bullets haphazardly at the moving targets behind him. 

They were shooting back, bullets raining from people hanging out of every window of every car. “Someone give me a gun,” 

“What!?” Yoongi yelled, looking back at you before returning his attention outside, having to pull himself back in the car to dodge an oncoming bullet. Yoongi was about to protest again when Namjoon pulled the gun from Jungkook's side holster and handed it back to you. 

You pressed the magazine release to check and see if it was fully loaded. It’s a Glock 43, 6 rounds. You pushed the magazine back in and rolled down your window, swiftly moving most of the top half of your body out. You steadied yourself, aimed at the front driver’s side tire at the car directly behind you, and pulled the trigger. 

Hit

The car swerved off to the side and into oncoming traffic. The car behind them moved up quickly. Aim, hit. Two more cars move up, side by side. Car one, aim, hit. Car two, you moved to aim, squaring up the shot perfectly when a bullet came whizzing toward you, and you had to duck back into the car. Miss. 

“Why the fuck hasn’t she had a gun this whole time?” Jungkook yelled from above the car as Namjoon took another risky turn, nearly throwing Yoongi out of the car. You reached your hand up to your ear, your hand covered in blood when you pull it back down to look at it. Shit. 

The shattering of the back window made you duck down behind the seat. Jungkook groaned slightly, falling slightly before he repositioned himself; the bullet that broke through the window must’ve hit his leg. 

You positioned yourself behind the headrest of the seat, now having better cover as you aimed again, only two cars left, and two bullets left in your gun. 

“Y/n, you’re bleeding-” 

“Yeah and I need to focus,” you adjusted your aim and hit, the car swerving sideways, taking the car behind it with it as it rolled out of control. You turned around, ducking back behind the seat and Namjoon turned down an alley. Jungkook’s leg was bleeding badly, blood soaking his dark jeans and running down the armrest it was resting on. 

He almost fell back into the car and into his seat, as you took his gun from him and put it in the trunk, not really knowing where else it could go so that you wouldn’t be afraid of it going off. “Y/n, Jesus, you’re covered in blood,” Yoongi looked terrified as his hands gently moved to cup your cheeks, looking all around to see where it was coming from 

“It’s just my ear, they bleed a lot; Jungkook’s in much worse shape than I am,” You said as you pulled out of his grasp, moving forward to see if there was anything you could do to help him while still in the car. 

“We’re not far, he’ll be fine,” Namjoon rushed through his words, taking occasional glances at Jungkook while trying to navigate the grid-locked town that you were in. 

Less than a minute later, you pulled into a seemingly deserted parking lot right next to an old factory of sorts; not unlike the one Yoongi took you the day you met. You all rushed out of the car to help Jungkook; Namjoon and Yoongi carried him as you opened the unlocked door Namjoon instructed you to get for them. You all rushed in from one side of the building as Jin and the others rushed in from the other, a large group of men you could only assume to be some of his men right behind them. 

“L, go take care of the car, everyone else, secure the perimeter. What happened?” Jin yelled out orders, his men dispersing as he helped Yoongi and Namjoon get Jungkook onto a table. 

“Jungkook got hit, I need to get the bullet out,” Namjoon spoke clearly as he tore open Jungkook’s pant leg, getting better access to the wound as Jin started turning on some large lights that were already set up around the table. 

“Shit, Y/n, are you okay?” Jimin rushed over to you, Hoseok and Taehyung following right behind him. 

“It’s her ear, she wouldn’t let me look at it-” 

“Because it’s fine,” you spoke as Jimin pushed your hair to the side to get a better look. You could tell by the look on everyone's faces that it didn’t look great, but it wasn’t something you were too worried about as you looked over at Namjoon, who had forceps in Jungkook’s leg. 

Jungkook groaned loudly, almost yelling as you rushed over to him, grabbing his hand and helping hold him down as he squeezed onto you, pain coursing through him. Jin was holding his leg down next to you as Namjoon stayed focused on getting the bullet out, everyone else slowly moving around you to watch as he pulled the bullet out, which thankfully hadn’t fragmented. 

“Bullet’s out, checking for any bits of glass,” Namjoon spoke coolly as he picked up a pair of glasses with surgical loupes attached to them, and went back to Jungkook’s injury. Jungkook’s grip had relaxed significantly as he looked up at you, brow furrowed tightly as you could tell he was trying to hold back from gripping onto you any harder. 

“You sure my leg’s worse than your face?” Jungkook joked as he noticed the blood that was not only covering half of your face and neck, but had completely soaked through a rather large portion of your shirt. Namjoon looked up for only a second before he moved back to Jungkook’s leg. 

“She’ll be fine, it’ll only take me a few minutes,” Jin looked over at you in unison with Namjoon, shock covering his features, as he hadn’t noticed you yet. 

“Yoongi, you mind taking over for me?” Yoongi quickly moved over to Jin’s spot, holding Jungkook’s leg down as he had been before Jin’s hand met your shoulder. “Let’s clean you up a bit,” You looked down at Jungkook, who gave a single nod before you left him, Jin pulling you back towards a bathroom. 

“Here,” he spoke calmly as he handed you a paper towel he’d just wet from the sink before he started wetting another one. You started wiping your face as you moved in front of a mirror, where you gasped at the sight of yourself. 

“I thought everyone was being dramatic,” you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself as you started wiping the blood from your cheek and neck. Jin smiled with you as he wrung out his paper towel, waiting for you to need a replacement.

“That happens sometimes, it’s just shock: it stops you from feeling the pain as it’s happening,” 

“Y/n,” You turned around, Hoseok standing at the door. “Namjoon said he can look at you now, he’s just finishing stitching up Jungkook,” You nodded and followed him out of the room after throwing away your paper towel. 

“There’s our hero,” Namjoon smirked as he looked up at you, still finishing up Jungkook. “Just sit down over there, I’ll be over in just a second.” 

“Hero?” Jin questioned, suddenly a lot more interested in what happened on the mission than he was previously. 

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her,” Namjoon spoke proudly as he made his way over to where you were seated, moving one of the lights with him before he propped it up on your right side and pulled up a chair to sit next to you. “She shot everyone's tires, only reason we got out of there alive,” 

“You can shoot?” Jin looked almost taken back, a sly smirk still twitching on his lips. “Why didn’t you say anything, we could’ve been using you,” You shrugged. 

“No one asked,” 

-

Namjoon finished cleaning up your ear before wrapping it in gauze, and you all piled into Taehyung’s van and went back to the safe house. After getting Jungkook settled into a room, Yoongi insisted on staying in your room with you, not wanting to give anyone the chance to get back at you again. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Yoongi spoke carefully, as though he’d gone over the words he was saying over and over again before speaking them aloud. You turned to look at him, standing by the doorway as you stood next to the bed. “You know, for saving our asses,” You smiled as you looked down at the bed you were about to climb into. 

“I figured I owed you one,” You crossed your arms over your chest as you walked up to him, stopping a few feet from where he was standing. He smiled lightly, nodding his head as he avoided your eyes. 

“Where did you learn to do that, anyway?” He asked, straightening himself out to match your stance, his arms crossing. You shrugged as you let your arms fall. 

“My uncle used to take me shooting when I was a kid. Said no boys would ever want to fuck with a woman that could shoot them in the dick from fifty yards away,” You chuckled as you remembered the day he said those words; you’d hit your first target from fifty yards, and he was so proud of you. He’d picked you up and spun you around before making you do it again so he could get it on video. 

Yoongi’s expression fell slightly; he wished your uncle had been right. “Guess it’s kind of fucked up now, given the situation we’re in,” yiu spoke softly, still smiling softly. Yoongi shook his head and took a few small steps toward you. 

“No, I don’t think so,” His eyes moved to the side, staring into space as he thought for a moment. “Well, maybe a little bit, but if anything I think the fact that you have the capability to do that kind of damage and still choose not to is incredible,” 

You felt your face begin to heat up as he carefully studied your features. Every new thing Yoongi learned about you made you so much more endearing to him. All the pain you’d gone through and the struggles that set you back; yet you were still positive despite everything. And even now, after everything, you were still positive. You always found a reason to be happy, a reason to crack a joke and try to lift everyone else’s spirits, regardless of the pain you were in. 

You quite literally got shot in the head earlier today and still made sure Jungkook was okay before you even began to worry about yourself. You saw everyone struggling to keep you safe and in less than six bullets saved them all. Everything about you seemed to make him want to know more, to see more of who you really are. 

“I don’t know if incredible is the right word; I mean you have the same ability that I do, I don’t see you killing people that aren’t threatening you,” The heat in your face only got warmer as you looked anywhere but Yoongi’s face. He couldn’t help but smile lightly as you spoke. How could you still be so adorable to him now, after everything? 

“I also haven’t gone through what you have. And people generally don’t threaten me because of the people I’m affiliated with. That, and I’m not near as good with a gun as you are. I stopped paying attention for half a second and nearly got shot,” You smiled, finally bringing your gaze back to meet his. 

“Well I actually did get shot,” You joked, blushing like an idiot. Yoongi spoke to you differently than what you were used to. Even with Zeke, who was overly complimentary and always finding a new way to make you feel special or important, he never made you feel like this. 

He would fuck up and then smother you with affection. Flowers, chocolates, dinner out at an actual restaurant while he showered you with praise. He’d always tell you how pretty you looked and how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have you. 

And even though the rest of the guys didn’t mean to, they all looked at you with a certain level of pity. They all meant well, but it was impossible to avoid. 

But with Yoongi, it was different. 

It was all in the small details. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, how much he wanted you to be safe, even if he wasn’t the one keeping you safe. When he touched you he was gentle, always watching your reaction to anything he did to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable; kept his emotions in check so he didn’t scare you. 

Nothing he did was to benefit him. He didn’t like you for his own selfish wants; he liked you because of the person you were. 

“How is that, by the way?” His hand came up and gently brushed your hair back so he could see your ear, still bandaged up the same as the last time he saw it. You flinched away slightly, the side of your head still thumping. He stilled for a moment before he let your hair move back down and moved his hand to cup your cheek. 

“Not bad, I suppose. Mostly just worried about how the chunk missing from my ear is going to look,” Yoongi shrugged, looking over at the small strip of tape peeking out from behind your hair. 

“Pretty badass, if I had to guess. Especially when you tell the story of how you got it,” You scoffed, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Something so small doesn’t really matter. We’re all safe and happy; the way a little bullet wound looks isn’t something you need to worry about. Not now, anyways,” His voice was low and rough as he spoke as the two of you got gradually closer together, almost as if an invisible magnet was pulling you into him unconsciously. 

He closed his eyes as your foreheads met, his thumb rubbing your cheek gently as he sighed, almost sounding relieved. You just stood like that for a moment, your hands clutched onto his shirt, one of his hands on your cheek and the other resting in his pocket as you leaned into one another. 

Yoongi had a way of making you feel safe even in these vulnerable moments. There were no expectations, no requirements for his affection. He held you because he wanted to, because it felt good to be near you, not because he wanted something out of it. 

So there you stood, completely safe in one another's presence.