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hollyhomburg · 2 months

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Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

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kuuipobangtan · 2 months

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luciathcv · 26 days

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drunken facetime - jjk

summary: your boyfriend drunkenly says something embarrassing to you in front of your mom || warnings: jungkook is drunk || genre: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, angst, comfort || word count: approximately 800

I sat in the car with my mom, the both of us had just finished having dinner together, and she was currently driving us back home, where my boyfriend, Jungkook, was waiting.

She was busy talking to me about work when my phone started vibrating in my lap. I looked down at it and checked it, seeing that Jungkook was Facetiming me.

"It's Jungkook." I told her. She knew Jungkook, considering I've been dating him for a few years at this point and the fact that I've lived with him for a while as well.

"Answer him." My mom told me, wanting to say hello. And so I accepted the Facetime, not thinking much of it.

When I answered the call, I could see that Jungkook was in the living room, his hair was a bit messy and his face was a little red.

"Hi, baby." Jungkook said, and I could tell that he was drunk as his voice was a little slurred.

"Hey. What's up?" I asked with a smile as I looked at my phone.

"I just wanted to check in on my baby." Jungkook told me and I couldn't help but blush a bit at his words.

"I'm having a good time. My mom's driving me home right now." I told my boyfriend. I then moved my phone so that Jungkook could see my mom and my mom waved at him.

"Hey, Jungkook." My mom greeted him.

"Hey, (your mom's name)." Jungkook said back sweetly. "How are you?" He asked.

"I'm good. How are you?" My mom responded.

"Good. Thank you." Jungkook said and I turned the phone to face me again.

"I'll be there soon." I told him.

"Good, when you get home I'm going to make love to you so good, you-" Jungkook started saying, whispered, but still loud enough for both my mom and I to hear.

I gasped as I heard what he said, "Jungkook!" I said, shocked as I avoided looking over at my mother.

"What?" He asked, really not seeing the problem with what he did in the moment.

"I- I'm hanging up." Is all I said before I hung up the Facetime.

I looked over at my mom awkwardly as she just laughed. Oh my god. I couldn't believe him.

I walked into the apartment and took my shoes off, still feeling immensely embarrassed. I walked down the hallway and into our bedroom as I changed out of my clothes and into some pajamas. As I was putting my shirt on, my back facing the door, Jungkook walked inside the room, and quietly walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my stomach and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

I was upset with him so I pushed him off of me and stepped away, putting my shirt on all of the way. I then turned to face him.

"What's wrong, baby?" Jungkook asked. "Why'd you hang up on me so fast?" He then asked.

"What's wrong?" I repeated. "I'm so embarrassed." I told him. "You talked about making love to me and my mom heard you!" I complained.

"She did?" Jungkook asked.

"Obviously." I said as I walked past him and out of the room, sitting down on the couch next to Bam as I started petting him.

Jungkook followed after me, sitting next to me on the couch. "I'm sorry, baby." I pouted as I looked down at Bam who was now laying his head on my lap. "I would never embarrass you on purpose, especially in front of your mom." Jungkook said as he put his hand in mine, squeezing it gently.

When he said that, no matter how upset I was, I knew that he meant it. He always did everything to protect me from everything really, but embarrassment too, even when he was drunk so I knew he wasn't lying when he said that.

"I know.." I said as I looked over at him. "Do you forgive me?" Jungkook asked.

I gave him a pouted look, making him smile a little, before I nodded. Bam hoped off of the couch, going to drink from his water bowl, and as soon as he did so, Jungkook gently pushed me so that I was laying down on the couch, before he got on top of me and started kissing me all over my face.

I giggled as he did so, his hair tickling me. Jungkook then pulled away for a moment, looking down at me. "I love you so much." Jungkook told me.

"I love you too." I said with a smile as I looked up at him, holding onto his biceps.

He smiled down at me before leaning down and kissing me. You forgave him but were the both of you definitely going to be embarrassed the next time you saw your mother? For sure.

-- link to my masterlist

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sugajimin · 1 year

Photo

“if you can’t hold back, it’s okay to cry. you’re already more than enough to be loved.”

#yoongi #suga #bts #btsgif #userbangtan #btsedit #myedit #mygifs #min yoongi #people pt2 mv #he is my safe zone my comfort zone #my home

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agustd3 · 1 year

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-`♡´- HAPPY 30th BIRTHDAY MIN YOONGI (09.03.1993) -`♡´-

#dailybts #btsedit #btsgif #yoongiedit #min yoongi #suga #thank u for always giving us strenght and comfort i love u a lot #gif #i tired ok im not used to making things like this #i scheduled this hopefully it posts at a right time

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boraswan · 5 months

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close your eyes

pairing: yoongi x gn! reader

words: 1k

warnings: none? first kiss. a lot of fluff. yoongi calls reader “honey” several times.

♡

You lay in his bed cuddled up together, your head on his chest and his right hand tangled in your hair. He listened contently to your rambling about your current obsession.

“I mean seriously, can you even believe that yoongi?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I believe it, honey.” He looked into your eyes, and then down to your lips, licking his softly. You two have had a few moments like this now. Everything was totally perfect, you were comfortable, even being so close to him like you were now. But every time the energy shifted, you couldn’t help but get nervous. You didn’t mean to shut him down. But just like every other time, nothing could stop the subconscious tensing of your body.

“Hey, is everything alright, honey?”

His hand had stopped moving in your hair now.

“Yes, sorry. I don’t mean to be so jumpy.” you said looking back down at the foot of the bed. You started rubbing his chest with your free hand. A failed distraction.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay. It’s just…”

He paused for a moment, obviously thinking carefully about how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Do you feel like we are moving too fast? I don’t want to rush you. I notice that every time I try to kiss you, it seems like you…shy away?”

You quickly shook your head no.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we are moving too fast. I want to kiss you Yoongi, I just…get really nervous when it’s about to happen.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” he said softly, smiling down at you.

“Oh…okay?” you said while letting out an awkward laugh.

Not the reaction you were expecting.

“Yes, of course honey. We shouldn’t do anything you aren’t ready for.”

It was your turn to be quiet in thought now. You wanted to kiss him. So badly. But how could you tell him the real reason why you were nervous? Maybe it would be better if you just kinda went for it. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him right?

“Honey, look at me.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, but forced yourself to anyway. You felt so exposed for some reason. You hadn’t even told him yet. There was no way this was going to work. You definitely couldn’t kiss him if you struggled to just make eye contact.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

He was making you too flustered. You already felt overwhelmed by the situation, really not expecting to have been called out like you were.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. Not if it’s got you worked up like this.”

He really wasn’t going to drop it. You were silent for a few more moments.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s just me.” he said, much softer this time.

“Tell you what, I’ll close my eyes while you tell me, will that help?” A little thing you guys did when you had something overwhelming to share.

Yoongi had suggested he close his eyes when you told him you had a crush on him. Oddly enough, it worked.

“Yes, please.”

He shut them.

Here goes nothing.

“I haven’t kissed anyone before. I really do want to do it with you. I promise. It just, makes me so nervous because… I don’t know how. And I don’t wanna mess up, or mess us up.” you said, looking at the ceiling.

Yoongi took your silence as a sign that you were done, opening his eyes.

But you were still looking at the ceiling, dim lighting in the room barely allowing you to see the whole thing. But you didn’t need to be looking at him to feel his eyes on you.

“You won’t.” he said seriously.

“W-What?”

“You won’t mess us up. I like everything about you, no matter how you kiss me. No matter if you kiss me. We’ll go at your pace, honey.”

He was so good to you.

“I like everything about you too.” you said sheepishly.

“I’m glad sweetheart.” he said chuckling softly.

He used the arm you were laying on to pull you into a tight hug, and brought the other one to rub your back up and down in soothing circles.

“Yoongi?”

He loosened his grip to look down at you.

“Yes, honey?”

He looked at you so lovingly. You thought you were going to melt.

“Would it be okay if … I kissed you now?”

You fiddled with the neckline of his shirt nervously. Smiling, he gently nudged your face to look at him.

“Of course, honey.”

“Can you … close your eyes?”

His chest shook with laughter.

“Yes, love.”

He looked at you lovingly, rubbing up and down your arms. Shifting the two of you to be laying down facing each other, he made sure you could lean in easily.

“Are you okay? Do you still want to do this?” he asked softly.

“Yes. And I’m okay.” You smiled up at him.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” you breathed out.

“Okay pretty girl.”

He sent you one last smile, before slowly letting his eyes fall shut.

You looked down at his lips, and back up to his closed eyes. You didn’t feel like running away. You felt completely calm. It was perfect.

You scooted in a little bit, tentatively resting your hand on the side of his neck. Taking one last deep breath, you leaned in slowly. Placing a chaste kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. He brought his hand up to the side of your face as soon as your mouths met. Not trapping you, but a comforting embrace. Remind you that it was just him, and it was okay. You allowed yourself to relax fully, closing your eyes at last.

When you pulled away and looked at him, his eyes were still closed. His face was expressionless, completely relaxed. You started moving your thumb on his throat back and forth, causing him to slowly open his eyes. His silence unnerved you.

“W-Was it okay?”

He looked at you with a dazed, far away look in his eyes, one you couldn’t read.

“Can I give you another one?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out.

♡

plz I love him so much

thx for reading <3

#bts x reader #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts suga #suga x reader #bts fluff #bts comfort #gn reader #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x gender neutral reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fic

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interesting-interludes · 10 months

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the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4.8k

→ summary: you learn what you are, and your reaction is far from what they expected. as they try to help you feel safe, the boys learn about your triggers, and they try their hardest to help in any way they can.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (self-loathing, mistrust, flashbacks/nightmares) effects of brainwashing, lil’ bit of lore, overt and internalized racism/species-ism (?), vomiting, anxiety, mentions of starvation/food poisoning, mentions of physical abuse, dissociation, mentions of torture, aversion to touch, mc pushes jimin but he’s okay, jimin is an angel, facial/body scars, body dysmorphia/repulsion

→ a/n: thank y’all for your patience :) here’s some more hurt before the comfort lol

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

The man is pointing at a detailed image drawn in faded ink. The rest of the page is filled with scripted text and anatomical diagrams.

You can’t look at first, scared of what you’ll find.

When you finally do, you don’t know what to think. There’s the thought that he’s kidding, he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

The drawing is of a creature with tawny-feathered wings extending magnificently in the air. It has the body of a powerful big cat, muscular yet elegant. Its four legs end in sharp-taloned feet. Its neck is framed by a golden mane, looking like a big frilly collar. The mane’s trail travels down the creature’s chest and back, ending in a flowing tail. It has the face of a lion, with white whiskers and deep yellow eyes, yet the regal posture of an eagle.

A diagram off to the left shows the inside of its mouth, lined with row upon row of sharp teeth and protruding fangs.

Looking back up, you search the faces of the men around you. None of them appear to be joking.

You can’t speak.

You’re one of them, one of the creatures they all despised. The creatures that roam the wild lands for easy prey, spreading carnage wherever they go.

No wonder they hated you so much. You’re not even human.

A few silent, involuntary tears fall from your eyes, which are locked back on the page. You wipe them away hastily.

The boys don’t know how to react, all looking at each other with concern.

“What...” you squeak out, voice choked. “What is it?”

“A gryffin,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a shifter.”

Something gurgles in your stomach. You clench your teeth, nails digging deep into the meat of your thighs.

You believe him. You don’t want to, but you believe him. You’ve always felt less than human, like something wasn’t right about you. Like something was just beneath the surface, clawing its way up.

Now you know why.

Jungkook, who’s sitting closest to you, slowly, cautiously puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

You don’t catch the look of hurt that flits across his face. He knows you can’t help it, but it still stings to think that his touch physically repels you.

“What did they tell you about atypicals?” Namjoon presses, trying to shift your attention so you won’t look so disheartened by the reality of what you are.

From the way you look at him, he knows that you’ve never heard that word before. Or at least you don’t remember it.

“Atypicals are anything that falls out of the humanic species,” he explains patiently.

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

You don’t understand why he’s talking like that. You’ve never heard these terms before. In the place you came from, the “facility,” anything that wasn’t human was an abomination, a mistake in the eyes of nature.

Simple as that.

But here, things seem to be a bit more complicated.

Nausea is starting to bubble in your gut. You breathe carefully through your nose as you consider Namjoon’s question.

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

They’re all on the edge of their seats, desperately wondering what those bastards brainwashed you to believe about their kind, your own kind.

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

“That...that they deserved to be hunted down like dogs.”

They can hear the pain in your own voice, either from witnessing their cruel behavior, or from realizing that you’ve been the target of it this whole time.

Your stomach churns.

“They said I wasn’t even worthy to lick the ground they walked on.”

They can all hear you choking on your tears, despite your attempts to hide it.

Jimin and Jungkook feel like their chests are going to burst from holding it in, both the sorrow they feel for you and the urge to rush forward and drown you in affection.

Jin and Namjoon have storms raging inside their heads. Namjoon is calculating, trying to decode what exactly their motive was and how to use it to track down the ones in charge of it all. Jin’s mind is reeling with ways to undo the damage they’ve done, mentally and physically.

Yoongi is swimming waist-deep in despair. He can’t help but think of what’s to come. You’ll have to relearn everything. How to shift, how to fight, how to cast. That is, if you even want to.

You feel the newly strung tension in the air, looking like you just realized you said all of those things out loud.

One look around the room, and your newly found voice retreats deep into your throat.

The man called Namjoon, his eyes have darkened, jaw clenched and ticking like he’s grinding his teeth.

The one who tended to your wounds is sitting stiffly in his chair, staring ahead with a new sharpness in his face.

The small dark-haired man has his hands clenched, prominent veins crawling up his arms.

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

“You have to know,” Yoongi begins, voice calm as ever despite the rage just below the surface. “That’s not how most people think. Especially not here.”

Here in the North Regions, atypicals make up the majority of the population. Law enforcement, government, and public works are largely run by them, and prejudice is rarely an issue.

But how could you know that now?

They can all see the change. It’s almost instantaneous, the way your face shifts and loses all semblance of emotion. Just like that, the mask is back up.

Then there’s something else. A slight twitch from your nose, a well-hidden shudder. They can see your throat bobbing.

For a few seconds, it looks like you’re about to say something. Your tongue is moving inside your mouth, and you’re blinking rapidly.

Namjoon is about to utter some gentle encouragement, but a jolt racks through your body, making you hunch over.

All of a sudden you’re vomiting up everything you just ate.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin can’t help but jump to their feet, panicked noises filling the air.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. All his limbs go rigid, paralyzing him in his seat. He feels sick himself.

Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all look at each other.

Yoongi thrusts into action, heading to the kitchen with Jungkook in tow since he isn’t good around pungent-smelling things.

Namjoon starts giving instructions. Jimin, paper towels. Hobi, get the mop. Said men jolt into action, scrambling to do whatever they can to help.

Jin’s eyes have been fixed on you for some time now, catching your every move, including all the suppressed flinches and tremors.

He’s at your side in an instant, on his knees to try to catch your eyes. But it’s no use, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like you’re expecting to be hit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he mutters in his gentlest voice. “It’s no big deal. No one is upset with you.”

As much as he wants to, he refrains from touching you right away.

Eyes still tightly shut, you flinch away from the sound of his voice, twitching with anxiety.

Jin can see you start to spiral, so he does the only thing he knows will work.

“Hey,” he begins, voice firmer than it was before. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

“That’s my girl,” Jin says before he can help it. “You’re going to calm down for me, yeah?”

Your eyes desperately search his face, looking for any sign of anger or deception. You find none, not even a hint of disgust, and your breathing starts to slow.

All that’s there is the man who tended to your wounds, watching you with those patient eyes. His handsome face is calm, attentively anticipating whatever you need right now.

Sweat gathers on your skin. That same sensation crawls up your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth.

Jin notices the signs immediately.

“Come with me,” he orders softly, putting a light hand on your back and leading you to the nearest bathroom.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You remember vomiting a few times at the facility. Once from eating a rotten vegetable, the mold making it impossible to identify. And once when a handful of keepers had held you down, repeatedly punching you in the stomach, until you gave in and called yourself a mutt.

Both times you were severely punished for making a mess. You learned to hold it in your mouth and swallow it down after that.

Jin guides you to kneel over the toilet. He keeps talking to you, but you only process half of what he’s saying.

“Go ahead, let it out,”

You can feel it creeping up, burning and sour. But something deeper, something almost instinctual, tells you to keep it down.

“Stop holding it in, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not good for you. It’s okay to let go.”

Before you can think to suppress it, another wave of nausea surges through your body. The crescendo of it makes you wretch, emptying the last of your stomach’s contents.

“Good, good, just get it all out,” he encourages instead of beating you until you can’t breathe.

The bile is bitter in your mouth, but not more bitter than the dread clinging to your entire being.

He’s not going to punish me, you finally realize. It’s almost an impossible thought.

For a moment, you stay hunched over, frozen. Not sure what to do next.

“Here, come wash your mouth out,” Jin says, helping you stand up on shaky legs.

The sound of running water rings in your ears. You feel the coolness against your tongue, but barely register that you’re the one cupping it to your lips. Numb. You feel like you’re controlling your body from the outside rather than the inside.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You look up at him for the first time in a while. His face is as kind as it was before, with the same full-lipped smile and warm brown eyes.

The man starts to lead you out of the room, that same gentle hand resting on your back.

It isn’t until then that you realize you’re still in the grimy clothes they found you in. And now the entire front of your shirt is stained with even more filth.

You glance into the living room as you pass through the hallway.

The other men are diligently cleaning the area you just soiled. The small dark-haired man and the muscular man are missing, though you can hear rustling from the kitchen.

The one with the jet black hair and bright face catches your eye, flashing a reassuring smile. It makes you rip your eyes away.

Jin guides you into the living room, and everyone immediately looks your way.

Shrinking, you’re shrinking into yourself as much as your body will allow.

“Someone run a bath,” Jin announces. “I think it’s time our little guest got some sleep in clean clothes.”

The fair-haired one steps forward and exchanges a subtle look with Jin, who’s standing slightly behind you.

“Would you follow me?” the shorter man says, holding out his hand.

It’s the one with the silver-gray hair and warm eyes. You think his name is Jimin. His face is soft and friendly. It asks a silent question: will you trust me?

You don’t take his hand, but you do take a step up the stairs in the direction he’s leading you.

You don’t catch it, but Jimin and Jin exchange a heartfelt glance, nearly ecstatic at the fact that you’re beginning to trust them.

Jimin leads you up the stairs as the rest of them settle things downstairs.

When you reach the top, he guides you down a spacious hallway that’s filled with potted plants and window light.

Every single door, down to the very end of the hall, is open. Whether it’s open wide or just a crack, not one of them is closed or locked. You’re not used to it.

The man, Jimin, stops at a door halfway down the hall and looks back to check if you’re still following him.

You stop a few feet away from him, still keeping your distance, but your expression is open and neutral, waiting on his next move.

He gives you a calm smile, and continues into the room with you behind him.

This room is just as bright and inviting as the rest of the house. White walls and clean tile floors, but this time with a large porcelain tub and a sink with marble countertops.

The man turns to look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

It’s a harmless question, a considerate question. But your mind is yanked back to that place.

Shower. A torrent of fire raining down on you, vision blinded by steam. It comes from every angle, unrelenting no matter how much you scream.

They would strip you down and lock you in a metal stall the size of a coffin. Then the dotted ceiling would unleash a downpour of near-boiling water.

You would bang on the walls, but the water made the metal surface just as hot, the floor burning the bottom of your feet. Minutes or hours they kept you in there, not letting you out until your body was covered in burn marks.

Bath. The most intense cold you’ve ever felt. It’s everywhere, submerging you up to the neck, seeping down to your very bones.

They would chain you down in a tub full of ice, nothing but your head poking out of the frigid water. The cold chains cut into your skin the more you struggled. Your lungs would heave from the shock of it, your whole body shivering violently.

Then they would hold your head underwater until you were bucking like a stuck pig. This went on until you were utterly exhausted, falling limp against the freezing porcelain with nothing but the tight chains holding you up.

You’re snapped back to reality when the man takes a step closer. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your face.

Finally remembering that he asked you a question, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head.

You don’t want either. You don’t want to be anywhere near that tub. You want him to leave you alone.

Jimin guesses that the gesture means you don’t care which one. He figures you’re most likely still weak from malnourishment, and he doesn’t want you fainting and hitting your head.

So he opts for a bath, turning on the faucet. He sits on the edge of the tub, hand under the spout to monitor the temperature.

The sound of running water makes every muscle in your body tense up. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. The fire, the ice, it’s going to burn and sting and cut into your flesh. You won’t be able to escape it.

Jimin doesn’t notice it at first, too focused on adjusting the knobs to get the water not too hot and not too cold, but your breathing has picked up again.

You can already feel it filling your ears, your mouth, rushing down your throat as your head is held down. Your skin prickles from the heat, it quivers from the cold.

The water in the tub continues to rise, and you can’t move. Your body is frozen, feet rooted to the floor as the sound of sloshing roars louder and louder in your ears.

Halfway full, now. It’s coming any second. He’s going to turn on you, throw you down and hold you under.

Burning, freezing. It’ll hurt and hurt and hurt.

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pursed like you’re trying to bite back a scream. Fists clenched at your sides, shoulders trembling, as your chest heaves up and down.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet and rushes over to you.

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?”

Then he makes a big mistake. He puts his hands on you.

His touch is gentle, nonthreatening, nothing but two hands on your shoulders. But you don’t want it, you’re repulsed by it. Because touch always comes before the pain.

On instinct, your body jerks away, arms moving to push the unwelcome touch away, just get it away. Your hands collide against something, hard.

When you open your eyes, the man is on the floor. Sprawled on his back, looking up at you with wide, slightly watery eyes.

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

Jimin’s soft heart hurts a little, he can’t help it. In all the years he’s known you, loved you, you’ve never ever been repelled by him. But that hurt is soon drowned by guilt.

He scared you, he made you feel unsafe. You felt the need to protect yourself and it’s his fault.

You’re staring at your hands in horror, completely floored by what you’ve done. You’re in for it now. He tried to help you and you hurt him. Now they’re going to hurt you even more.

Several sets of pounding footsteps draw near. The others must have heard the thud from downstairs and rushed up to see what was wrong.

What they don’t expect to find is Jimin crumpled on the floor and you standing over him in a braced position, but that’s exactly what they see when they peer through the doorway.

They’re all a little astonished, Jin and Namjoon are thinking deeply, and something in Taehyung’s eyes shifts.

He isn’t proud of it, but a surge of protectiveness washes over him, for his Jimin. He knows it’s unreasonable, unfair even. But it’s still there. And he can’t snuff it out.

A new fear consumes you. You were insubordinate, you resisted. You know what comes next.

A sob gets trapped in your throat as you sink down to the floor, burying your head in-between your knees and using your arms to shield yourself.

Immediately, the same way Jimin did, they all rush forward to comfort you.

“No!” Jimin blurts out, making you flinch and shake violently. “Don’t touch, give her some space.”

They all obey, keeping their distance with concern flooding their features.

Jimin shifts onto his knees, scooting a little closer but still keeping enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, like he’s talking to a wild, cornered animal. “It was my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m truly sorry.”

Jimin’s voice has always been soothing, even in the darkest times, and your breathing slows a little.

Jimin realizes that the faucet is still running, and he reaches over to switch it off. Then it comes to him.

He turns back to your trembling form, still waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re scared of the water, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

He doesn’t expect you to reply, he just wants to let you know that he’s trying to understand you, to help you.

You nod slightly.

It shocks them all again. You’re becoming more responsive.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jimin says with all the sincerity he can muster. “It’s not your fault. I promise I won’t do that again.”

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

Jimin looks at his mates and gestures for them to give you some more space so you can calm down.

They all do as he says, except Tae. He lingers in the doorway, his piercing eyes flickering between you and Jimin, thinking.

The two men exchange a meaningful glance. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head as if to say “There’s nothing to worry about. I got this.”

Tae gives a slight nod back and turns to leave, throwing one last look at you.

Jimin sees the hint of distrust hidden in that look. He files it away for later.

Turning his attention back to you, Jimin looks at the tub and thinks of a solution.

“You don’t have to get in the tub, okay? We can just...” Jimin opens the cupboard under the sink and takes out a handful of washcloths.

“Like this, see?” He dips one of the cloths in the water, using it to wipe down his face.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You scan his face. Those big brown eyes are full to the brim with kindness, as if you didn’t just hurt him moments ago.

You nod.

Jimin smiles so big it almost hurts his cheeks, heart swelling as you hesitantly hold your hand open. He puts another cloth in your waiting palm.

“Okay, here’s the soap, shampoo, conditioner. You can wash your face with this. Use whatever you want, okay?”

You look at him, trying to convey with your eyes what your mouth can’t say. He stays there for a moment, sitting with you on the tile, answering your every question with just his expression.

It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You can trust me. I understand you.

Breaking from his reverie, Jimin gets up and moves to leave.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, swinging the door closed.

You shoot forward and grab the knob just before it shuts.

Jimin jumps a little, whipping back around. There’s confusion on his face, then understanding.

“Okay, we’ll leave it open just like this. I’ll be just outside if you need anything, okay?”

You feel the tension release from your chest, and nod back.

Another warm smile, and then he disappears into the next room.

He’s not going to lock you in. Another impossible realization.

Turning around, you stare at the full tub. Your heartbeat skitters a little, but you take a step towards it anyways.

When you dip your fingertips in the clear water, you expect it to be scalding, or cold enough to numb, but it’s neither. The water is warm and calm, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t sting.

Another breath releases from your lungs.

You use the cloth and soap to wipe down your whole body, shedding your dirty clothes and tossing them aside. Soon the tub is cloudy from the dirt on the washcloth. You even dip your hair into the water and use a little shampoo to get some of the grime out.

You sit there and wash yourself until the water turns cold. Using the counter to steady yourself, you slowly come to a stand, even though your legs are aching.

The sight in front of you is enough to shock you into silence again.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection. You wish you weren’t seeing it now.

The person in the mirror is ugly and pathetic. Her short hair is a mangled mess. Haphazardly cut with a pair of dull scissors, it sticks out in all different angles. Her eyes are blank and lifeless, red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. There’s a large, hideous scar across her left cheek, deep and forked like a flash of lightning.

Her body is weak and repulsive. Slouching forward, she’s barely able to hold herself up. She’s covered in scars and marks, all over her legs, her arms, her torso.

You know there are worse scars behind you.

Horrifically entranced, you slowly reach up to touch the scar across her face, your face. Your fingertips meet the textured tissue, and then there’s the pain.

It’s not a physical pain, it doesn’t originate from the scar itself. It’s a pain deep in your chest, spreading and infecting the rest of your body. It maims you, twists your insides, disfigures your soul.

You muffle the silent scream with a hand over your mouth. Knees buckling, you barely have any strength left to keep yourself upright.

You’re barely you. You don’t remember who you were before, but you know it wasn’t this.

A gentle knock on the door.

You immediately stifle any signs of discomfort, snapping the mask back on with frightening accuracy.

Jimin’s arms poke through the gap in the door. He sets a bundle of clothes on the counter.

“Here you go," his pleasant voice says. “Please let me know if they’re comfortable enough.”

You wait a good twenty seconds before you reach for them. A warm green sweater and soft cotton pants.

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

Leaning closer to the door, you try to hear beyond the wood. Hushed voices, muted footsteps.

“Ready, love?” a smooth voice sounds from just behind the door.

You flinch away, trying your best to make your hair look less unkempt.

It’s Jin who cautiously swings the door open, greeting you with an affectionate smile.

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

You manage a curt nod, following him with your head down to another room.

It’s the room from earlier, the one with the massive bed. The rest of them are here waiting, muttering quiet words until you arrive. Then they go silent and set their eyes on you, asking a question you can’t understand.

Why are they all looking at you? You don’t like it, not at all. People who look like them shouldn’t look at someone like you. You’re wrong, inside and out.

They all notice the change. Now your eyes are trained on the ground, head bent and shoulders folding in on yourself like you wish you would disappear.

Jin ushers you towards the humongous bed, encouraging you to settle in under the covers. He tucks the comforter around your body, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“There, nice and cozy,” he says, sounding satisfied for the time being. “Rest up, okay love? You’ve been through a lot.”

Why are they talking to you like that? You’re disgusting. They should be throwing you out on the streets to fend for yourself like a common rat.

The small dark-haired man kneels down next to you. He hands you a mug of steaming amber liquid, using the bed sheets to shield your hands from the hot surface.

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

While Jimin was getting you cleaned up, Yoongi and Jungkook were hard at work cooking up a tincture for your nausea. Essence of lavender to help you sleep, peppermint to refresh your throat, a little ginger to ease your stomach, and some of Yoongi’s highest-quality potions to replenish your nutrients. And, of course, Jin stirred in a copious amount of honey to sweeten it up.

You hold the cup in your hands like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Yoongi looks at his mates in confusion and concern, not sure what to do. Jimin catches his gaze, and gestures wildly with his hands. He exaggeratedly mimics holding the cup and taking a sip, and then Yoongi understands.

He gently takes the mug from your hands and holds it up to his nose.

“Let me check if it’s too hot for you,” he says, blowing off some of the steam and taking a long sip. He makes sure to swallow with audible emphasis.

“Okay, it should be good,” he says, handing it back to you.

This time you hold it close to your chest like it’s a precious gem, slowly sipping away at the frothy liquid.

They all look at each other with a relieved, triumphant expression.

Namjoon steps forward and leans down to level his face with yours.

“There’s water for you over there,” he gestures to a table in the corner, complete with a pitcher and cup. “And the bathroom is the next door over.”

You nod to show your appreciation, still avoiding eye contact.

Jin enters your field of vision again.

“Do you think you can hold down some meds?” he asks. It’s sincere, no seeming deception behind it.

But you still shake your head vehemently. You don’t want anymore pills. In fact, you don’t want to see another pill ever in your life.

“Okay, love,” he says, smiling again. “Just rest up for me. For us.”

You have no idea what he means by that, but you sink into the pillows anyway.

One by one they filter out of the room, casting a last look at you before they leave.

You wish they wouldn’t. Their eyes seem to leave even more marks on your skin.

The door starts to swing shut. Then someone mutters something, and it stops just before it closes completely.

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

You manage a few more sips from the steaming mug, eventually setting it aside. The bed is soft and comfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to lie down.

You sit there, watching shadows dart across the wall, for hours.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed it please leave a comment on what you thought of the story/any questions it would mean the world to me!! and if you’re feeling extra generous, please reblog with tags it helps to spread the story around, thank you!! 💖

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bangtaninborderland · 10 months

Text

MYG - Secrets In The Sheets

Genre: smut, maid reader x mob boss Yoongi, 18+, REQUESTED

Warning: mentions of guns and death, spanking, oral (f&m receiving), penetration, hair pulling, choking.

A/N: thank you for requesting this! I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it please let me know what you think I always do try my hardest to make requests as good as possible.

BTS MASTERLIST

Yoongi sighed, tossing his keys atop the small glass table, and sliding his shoes off along with his jacket.

God, he needed a drink.

He shuffled over to the small drinks table he had installed in the corner of the living room overlooking a rather dark Seoul, picking up a bottle of whiskey not bothering to read the label as he poured himself a glass. It didn’t matter what it was called nor how strong it was, what mattered was the few moments of peace he felt as the liquid slid down his throat, a light burn in its wake. A small piece of relief in his rather hectic and unusual life.

He chucked remembering how Hoseok had explained that stress was his own fault, “Hyung.” The younger had called up, running in front of him to open the sleek Mercedes. “You know, you wouldn’t be so stressed if you took a holiday. You don’t always have to be a mob boss.”

“Hobi you know I couldn’t leave, probably end up with a bullet in my head on some random beach. You know I don’t feel like being fed to the fish thanks.”

“So uptight Hyung, get home safe.”

“Always do.”

He loved his team as much as he refused to admit it, his team were his life and he would step in front of a thousand bullets to protect them.

He placed his glass down, unbuttoning the top button of his black shirt. You could tell the fabric was expensive, but then again - everything about Min Yoongi was expensive.

He was about to settle in his study preparing to go over the mass amounts of paperwork that built up over the past week when he heard a shuffle in the upstairs bedroom.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his gun, checking the bullets before heading up the stairs. Eyes searched every corner of the house as the noise grew louder, what was once a slight shuffle now being muffled moans.

Definitely fucking weird.

He watched his steps, careful not to move too fast to alert the intruder to his presence, hand pressing his bedroom door open before returning to hold the gun properly.

He was taken back in absolute shock as he watched the maid laying on his bed, legs spread wide as her fingers disappeared inside of herself. Her other hand gripping the crisp white sheets.

Walking over to you he did the only thing reasonable, he held the gun against your temple. Eyes hard as you jumped in surprise before registering the barrel against your skin. Your face falls, overcome with a clear look of fear. “M-mr min.” You stuttered. Legs fold over themselves to give you some cover.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi spat, nudging the hun further against your head. “I don’t pay you to fuck yourself in my bed I pay you to fucking clean.”

You whimpered, pushing yourself into the bed further to make your frame seem smaller. “I- I’m sorry I just I I’ll leave please sir I’m so sorry.”

“What got you so desperate that you couldn’t wait?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity taking over as his eyes raked around your body. You felt your nipples harden against the fabric of your uniform, your thighs coated in wetness.

He tore his eyes away, mentally shaking his head, he may have been a ruthless killer but he had some decency.

Your eyes wandered around, a hint of embarrassment in them. “It- y-you Mr. Min. I was just cleaning the spare room and a box fell and the… the toys fell out and I… I’m sorry I’m so sorry.”

He sighed, removing the gun from your temple, flicking the safety on before placing it on the table close enough but still out of reach. “What was it that turned you on?”

“What?” Mr min I do-“ you stuttered being cut off as yoongi placed his hand over your mouth.

“The only thing I want to hear from you is an answer. What got you turned on.” He tutted, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he pulled his hand away. Resting it atop his hip. “Well?”

“The- the vibrator sir.” Your face was flushed, the embarrassment only worsening with every moment you were trapped underneath Yoongi.

“Why?” He was genuinely confused, his little toy box housed an array of toys, ranging from relatively simple to more complex, degrading.”

“I.. uh….” Your voice grew quiet as you mumbled out her explanation. “I thought about you using it on me.”

“My maid is fantasising about me fucking her?” Yoongi smirked, an idea already forming. “I suppose you want to keep your job huh?”

You sighed, that was something easily answered. “Yes, Mr Min.”

“Okay, only if you let me give you what your pretty mind was thinking about.” He sits on the end of the bed, expressing nearing bored as he continued his mental assessment of your body.

“I don’t- I can’t.” You looked away, not bothering to move but not as settled. “It’s wrong Mr Min.”

He shook his head, a wicked smile tantalising the maid. “Call me Yoongi, I won’t force you, sweetheart. If you want to go you know the house better than I do, I can give you a recommendation I’m sure someone else would love your…services. However, you could give yourself what you want most and keep your job.”

Yoongi lets you have a few minutes to think, never wanting to force someone. “If…if I took you up on your offer…would we get to do it more than once?”

He shrugged. “It depends on you and if it’s good.”

“I think I can be of satisfaction to you Sir.” You pouted, lightly offended by his comment.

“Now don’t pout, why don’t you show me how else you can use those pretty lips?”

“You really want me, Mr Min?” You giggled shyly, it was no secret Min yoongi was a wanted man. Anyone who had the privilege of seeing the man wanted a taste of him, both men and women alike would take their shot throwing all kinds of compliments and date proposals at him only for him to reject every single one of them.

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true darling.” He rasped, watching you drop to your knees was a fucking sight. He wasn’t a bad man, not in that sense anyway, but he knew a beautiful woman when he see one.

“Want me to take your cock out, Yoongi?” Your tone had a dangerous lilt to it as you said his name for the first time, If he wasn’t hard before he was now.

He nodded, resting his hands behind him to keep him steady. “Do whatever doll.”

You relished in the cute pet names he had easily been addressing you with. You didn’t respond to him verbally, instead, your hands went to his belt buckle, undressing him as fast as you could. You wanted to moan the second his cock sprang free, the length and thickness both much better than you could ever have imagined. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” He chuckled, he was very aware of his body, of how good he looked.

“Love what I see.” You corrected, looking up at him for consent before continuing. He gave you a small nod once he realised what you were asking, once he did your hand was wrapped around his cock pumping him a few times. “What do you want from me Mr min?”

“I told you, darling, I want to see what that pretty mouth can do.” He winked, throwing his head back as you brushed your finger along the tip of his cock.

“Well then Mr min, I won’t keep you waiting.” You smiled, lips parting around the head of his cock, tongue swirling around a few times earning a groan from him.

You felt his hand upon your head, he didn’t push you down instead he lightly brushed your hair from your face. “God you’re fucking amazing.”

You responded by hollowing your cheeks, taking his cock as far down your throat as you could, even pushing a little past that point to show off. “Fuck your mouth is like heaven.” He groaned, thrusting upwards a little making you gag.

You recovered quickly, ignoring the feeling of tears pricking your eyes as you continued sucking his cock, hand wrapped around the base massaging the length you couldn’t fit. He let you sit there for a few minutes, his hand running through your hair, gripping it gently every time your tongue swirled around the tip, before lightly parting your cheek. “Off, my turn.”

You pulled off, making a ‘pop’ sound as you did. “You’re turn what?” You panted, your own arousal still growing.

“I want to see if you taste as good as you look. Lay down on the bed.” He patted your thigh, waiting for you to situate yourself on your back before he pushed your legs apart, making room for himself between them. “Every part of you is fucking beautiful, I might just have to keep you here forever.”

“All for yourself Mr Min? isn’t that selfish?” You teased.

“I’d like to see anyone try and touch what I claim doll, everyone knows to stay away from whatever the mins own.” He chuckles, shaking his head as though surprised and your comment. “Shuffle closer.”

You carried out his request, pushing your body closer to him, letting your eyes flutter closed as his breath grew heavier against your skin. He started at your thighs,, kissing and licking every now and again choosing a particular part to bite down on, definitely leaving marks. “More.” You whispered, hand reaching down to pull him closer.

Everything stopped and you opened your eyes, confused by the lack of touch. As you did his hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Patient girls get nice things, do you want me to show you what I do to girls who demand darling?”

You shook your head, mouth dry and eyes a little fuzzy. “N-no Yoongi.”

“See I knew you were smart.” He smiled, moving back to his previous position. This time you let him carry out his torturously slow pace, trying to keep as still as possible. The last thing you wanted was for him to stop.

Eventually, he moved higher, his lips heaving over your labia and whether you meant to or not you bucked your hips at the sensation earning a slap to your thigh. “Still. Don’t disturb me.”

“Yes, Mr min.” You whined, fisting the sheets to keep you grounded. “Sorry.”

Once again he brought his mouth to your cunt, tongue licking a long stripe between the folds. “God.” You groaned, relishing the way his tongue swirled around your clit.

He was good with his tongue, too fucking good. He covered your pussy with his mouth, both sucking your clit and using his tongue at the same time to flick the bud repetitively giving you no time to catch your breath. His hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you trapped against him.

“Yoongi- too- ah fuck too much too much” you screamed, hand pushing at his head to move him away.

Despite his smaller frame, he was much stronger than you, your fighting did nothing against him if anything it only encouraged him more as he slid his tongue into your hole. “I’ll cum right now yoongi fuck wait.” You thrashed around, the pleasure overwhelming you.

Your orgasm was winding around your stomach, with just a few more stripes of his tongue you’d be brought to a mind-blowing orgasm. You would have been but you weren’t. He pulled away just before you could be pushed over the brink, your orgasm dwindling away. You’d never been edged before but the smug look on his face when you opened your eyes initially wanting an explanation somewhat calmed you.

The look he wore told you what you need to know, he wasn’t ready to be done.

“I want to see you riding me. Think you can handle it or are you done already.”

“Please.” You huffed, brushing your hair out of your face before pushing him backwards, his body landing on the bed with a light thud. “Give me a little more credit Mr Min.”

“Someone’s got a little confident?” He raised an eyebrow “Condom. Top drawer.”

You rushed off the bed, handing him the packet. Within a matter of seconds, you were back on top of him, his eyes dark, focused, watching you align his cock with your entrance.

His energy was everything, dark, alluring, dangerous but even so he was still smug and the thing about you? You could be smug too. You smiled back, practically a grin as you slid down, tightening your walls around him as much as possible. “I’ll show you confident Mr min.”

You ground your hips in a circle before beginning to ride him, his cock filling you up perfectly. “Come here.”

He pulled you down to him, placing a rough kiss against the corner of your mouth before locating your lips properly, you riding him made it a little more difficult but still his grip around your throat was firm, keeping you close enough to explore your mouth with his tongue.

You moaned into his mouth as he thrusted his hips upward, his free hand grabbed your ass cheek, slapping it hard enough to echo throughout the room. You pulled away from the kiss, biting his lip. “Want you to fuck me.” You gasped, legs growing tired.

He flipped you around, your body pinned beneath his. His cock slid inside of you easily, your pussy dripping with the need to orgasm. He fucked into you, your eyes rolling back as he pressed into you further. “Fuck you’re so warm, so tight.” His voice was raspy, rough.

“Slow, slow please.” You mumbled, already too fucked out to speak clearly.

“Whatever you need petal.” He mumbled, his hips rolling against you, his cock filling you most deliciously. Every antagonising stroke sends your nerves haywire.

“Who knew the pretty maid could be so dirty hm?” He slid his length out leaving just the tip, pausing for a second before ramming into you, a resounding scream tore out of you. “I used to want you cleaning, used to see the way you’d bend over right in front of the cameras. You’ve always been a little tease, haven’t you? Wanted me to come and bend you over my desk and teach you a lesson?”

“Wanted- wanted your attention.” You stuttered in between moans.

“Let’s see how that works out for you doll.” Without warning his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly around the sides, only enough to make you dazed. His hips snapped against you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room accompanied by your moans and slurred words.

“S’ good” you babbled, nails scarring down his arms. “gonna cum.”

He reached down, kissing you effortlessly silencing your screams. “Cum for me sweetheart, cum around my cock.”

With a few more thrusts you were pushed over the edge into a blissful orgasm, everything went fuzzy. You felt him grow erratic, his thrusts slowing down as he filled the condom. “Fuck.” He groaned as he pulled out.

You whined at the loss of contact, still out of it. “Let me get a cloth to clean you up, love.” He explained, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with a black cloth. You winced as he helped clean up the mess between your legs. “Do you want a shower? You could have some clothes?”

You nodded. “Later. Was it good?”

“It was fucking amazing.” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead before flopping down next to you. “Sheets are a fucking mess, the maid is going to have fun cleaning that up.” He winked.

You slapped his arm, laughing. “Shut up. You can clean these it’s your fault. I can’t believe you held a gun to my head.”

He shook his head. “Actually if you weren’t having a world of fun in MY bed we wouldn’t have done that. I was surprised you didn’t run away the second I did that, sometimes I can be a little erratic forgive me.”

“Please don’t remind me it’s so embarrassing I really didn’t think you were going to be home until later and I swear I would have changed the sheets. It’s forgiven by the way, it’s not as bad as some things I’ve seen working here.” You’d grown used to an awful lot over the five years you’d worked for Yoongi but you stayed because he wasn’t a bad man, he treated you respectfully.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “and don’t worry about it love we all do things we aren’t proud of.” He sighed, his voice was softer than usual.

“Wait, you said it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t catch me.” You sat up on your elbows, eyes wide. “You weren’t tempted one of the many times I teased you?”

“More than you know. Felt like an uncontrollable school boy watching you.” He laughed, hand threading through your hair.

“Well, the schoolboy got top marks on the exam.” You giggled, playing along.

“Who said it was finished? That shower is still an offer.” He winked, standing up with a hand out.

You groaned, slipping your hand into his.

Min Yoongi may have been a vicious crime lord, a dangerous killer, and a powerful businessman but he was also the best boss you’d ever had, him having a great cock and high stamina was just a bonus. A very big bonus.

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kookiesbuckethat · 1 year

Text

he makes you insecure

Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

WC: 3.5k

taglist: @awinkies @wedarkacademia @yiyi4657 @astralandcosmos @scuzmunkie @mooonlitstars @manchuria @joondiary @ygimsgw @royallyjjk @yoongititss @mwitsmejk @kitty-kair @blissedjoon @vrittivsanghavi @kimahnjung98

tw: unhealthy eating habits, bad body image

nothing too detailed but just bc this can be a very sensitive topic to some!! that being said, im not trying to romanticize unhealthy eating habits or anything like that. as someone who has struggled with these things, fics like these hit a little close to home. but that’s what makes them all the more comforting to me and i hope this fic will have the same effect for anyone that also may also relate. plz be kind to yourself and your body, it’s beautiful and does so much for u!! lots of love, take care 💜💜

Coming off the stage, the soreness of Yoongi’s shoulder becomes harder to ignore as the high of finishing yet another successful concert starts to wear off. After the long hours of practice and leaving it all on the stage, it all seems to catch up to him all at once as he keeps his head down to hide his grimace.

As soon as Yoongi steps foot backstage, he’s immediately knocked back a few steps as you run into his chest. “You were amazing!” you breathe out as you wrap your arms around his neck, engulfing him in a warm hug. Wrapping his good arm around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, Yoongi grits his teeth and breathes in your comforting scent to help him bear the pain.

Handing him a water bottle, you gently brush his sweaty hair away from his forehead as he gulps down the cool liquid. “You work so hard,” you tell him with a gentle smile, “I’m so proud of you.” For a while, the pain in Yoongi’s shoulder is pushed to the back of his mind in your presence. He practically purrs as you gently play with his hair, closing his eyes and subconsciously leaning into your hand.

Basking in your attention, Yoongi’s moment of peace is interrupted when the maknaes come running over, wanting your praise as well. Your attention is stolen away from Yoongi as you turn to the maknaes, showering them with compliments and giving all of them pats on the head. No longer having your touch to distract him from the pain, Yoongi brings a hand to his shoulder and rubs at it while nobody’s looking.

When you all arrive back at the hotel, you decide to get started on dinner while they go on V-live to talk to ARMY. Just as you set the last plate on the table, they all burst into your and Yoongi’s hotel room. “Mmmh!” Jungkook exclaims, “It smells good!” You giggle as his nose guides him to the food, his eyes going wide when they land on the table.

Taking a seat, Hoseok looks up at you in amazement, “Wah, it looks so delicious!” Laughing as you wave off all their compliments, you suddenly feel an arm wrap around you as Yoongi comes up behind you, giving you a slight squeeze in thanks before sitting down next to you. Thanking you one last time, they all dig in, moans of satisfaction filling the room.

When everyone finishes up, you refuse all their help to wash the dishes. “You all worked so hard today, the least I could do is wash the dishes!” you insist. “But you already cooked-” Seokjin starts to argue but you interrupt him. “No buts! Out of the kitchen! You guys need to rest,” you stand your ground, pushing him out of the kitchen and towards the door.

Sighing in defeat, they thank you one last time before wishing you goodnight and heading back to their rooms. Closing the door behind them, you walk back into the kitchen only to find Yoongi by the sink. “And what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, an accusatory tone in your voice as you place your hands on your hips and frown at him. “Washing the dishes?” he answers as he reaches for the gloves.

You grab the gloves before Yoongi can, defensively holding them behind your back and out of his reach. “When I said you guys need to rest, that included you too,” you tell him, a slight pout to your lips and a small furrow in your brow that he found absolutely adorable. Knowing better than to argue with your stubborn nature, Yoongi raises his hands in defeat as he backs away from the sink.

Letting out a small “Hmph,” as you put the gloves on, you turn your back to him as you start washing the dishes. But you freeze when you feel his lips press a kiss to your temple. Yoongi’s not the most affectionate guy as he prefers to show his love in other, quieter ways, so moments like these always catch you off guard.

“Cute,” he breathes out as he chuckles at your blushing cheeks and ears. “Hurry up and go shower already,” you mumble, willing your face and ears to stop burning. With a grin on his face, Yoongi finally leaves you to wash the dishes. Listening to his retreating footsteps, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. No matter how long you’ve been together, Yoongi always manages to surprise you and make your heart flutter.

Flicking on the lights, Yoongi steps into the hotel bathroom, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he takes a moment to brace himself before attempting to undress. Letting out a hiss of pain as he raises his arm, a few curses escape Yoongi’s lips as he pulls his shirt over his head. Dropping it onto the floor, he lets out a breath of relief. The hardest part was over.

Discarding the rest of his clothes, Yoongi steps into the shower. He rolls his shoulder as the hot water streams down his body, relaxing all his muscles. He realizes that without your comforting presence, the pain in his shoulder is more apparent than ever, and he can only hope you finish doing the dishes soon so you can hold him in your arms.

Your heart has calmed down by the time you dry the last plate, placing it back in the cupboards before hanging the towel back in its place. You enter the bedroom just as Yoongi exits the bathroom, lazily rubbing at his hair with a towel. You silently reach out to him, asking him for the towel. Placing it in your hand, his head drops forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder as you gently dry his hair.

Nearly falling asleep with how exhausted and relaxed he is, he lets out a whine and wraps his good arm around your waist when you start to pull away. “Yoongi,” you giggle when he pulls you flush against him, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He was being more affectionate than usual today, not that you were complaining, but you had to shower.

“What’s with you today?” you ask curiously as you pull away enough to look at his face. A groan is the only answer you get, pulling a breathy laugh out of you. “I have to shower Yoongi,” you tell him as he reluctantly lets you go, “I’ll only be a few minutes.” Walking over to the bed, Yoongi closes his eyes as he lays down, counting the seconds until you return to him.

Coming out of the bathroom freshly showered, you spot Yoongi laying on the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. A mischievous smile forms on your face as you quietly creep up to his side of the bed. Jumping onto his unsuspecting form, you giggle as you hear Yoongi let out an “oof,” at the impact. “You’re so heavy,” he groans, weakly trying to shove you off with one arm.

Your smile falters for a second at his comment, but you’re quick to brush it off. Yoongi’s always been a complainer, and you take his seemingly half-hearted attempt at pushing you off as a sign that he doesn’t really mean it. You laugh as you lay your head on his shoulder, wanting to indulge in the affectionate mood he seems to be in today.

“Seriously, get off. You’re crushing me,” he says coldly, all the playfulness gone from his voice. It feels like you’re hit with a bucket of cold water, scrambling to get off of Yoongi as if his touch burned you. His eyes are shut tight as his face turns into a grimace, quickly turning away so you can’t see his pained expression. But he also misses the way your face crumples, tears quickly welling in your eyes.

You stare at him, wide-eyed as he leans on one elbow, turned away from you so all you can see is his back. You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine the angry expression he must be wearing if he can’t even look at you. Yoongi was never the type to yell, so you know you must have really messed up to reach the end of Yoongi’s usually never-ending patience.

In reality, Yoongi is holding his shoulder with one hand, biting back a curse because of the shooting pain in his shoulder. He isn’t mad at you, he could never be. And he would never say such a thing so carelessly, he wasn’t even fully aware of what he said because, in the moment, the only thing he could focus on was the pain in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to even finish the sentence. I didn’t know I was that heavy. You were comfortable in your own skin, especially because Yoongi never failed to make you feel loved. But body image is a fragile thing that can be broken just like that if you’re not careful with your words.

Suddenly feeling sick, you clamber off the bed and run into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t stop the tears that start falling from your eyes as you suddenly see a million things you don’t like about the reflection in the mirror.

When the pain finally starts to subside, Yoongi rolls back onto his back, letting out a breath of relief. He patiently waits for you to return to him, snapping in and out of consciousness as he tries his best to stay awake and wait for you.

Splashing your face with cold water and taking a few breaths to calm yourself down, you do your best to avoid looking in the mirror as you make your way out of the washroom. When you climb back into bed, Yoongi already has his arms open, waiting for you to snuggle into his chest like you always do. But this time, you don’t. You lay about an arm’s distance away-which is much too far for Yoongi’s liking-with your knees pulled to your chest.

Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion at your strange behaviour and he can’t shake the feeling deep in his gut that something is wrong. But he’s exhausted from the concert and knowing that he has another one to perform the next day, Yoongi decides to leave you be for now, not because he doesn’t care enough but because that’s simply his nature. He never makes you feel rushed or pressured with his infinite patience, always willing to wait as long as you need.

As the days go on and the concerts continue, it’s become routine for everyone to crash at your room for dinner, not that you minded. They never failed to make sure you knew how much they love and appreciate your cooking, and watching them enjoy your food just warms your heart.

Yoongi takes his usual seat next to you at the dining table, grabbing some food and cutting it up for you before placing it in your bowl. It was his was one of his silent forms of love to make sure you’re eating well. But your appetite has been lost ever since Yoongi made that comment about your weight, and suddenly the food doesn’t look that good to you anymore.

Yoongi’s hurt and a little offended when you take the pieces of meat he cut up for you and place them into Jungkook’s bowl. But he’s more concerned about how much of it you’re actually eating compared to how much you’re giving to Jungkook. Yoongi’s very attentive to you and your needs and he has a pretty good idea of how much you usually eat, but you haven’t even eaten half of what you usually do.

Yoongi watches you out of the corner of his eye as you place your chopsticks down, signifying that you were done eating even though there was still food left in your bowl. “Not hungry?” he mumbles as he raises his eyebrows in question. You shake your head as you give him a small smile. “I was snaking while making dinner,” you lie smoothly, chucking sheepishly to make the act convincing.

But your answer doesn’t ease Yoongi as much as it should because he can feel that something is off. Not wanting to press in front of everyone, he accepts your answer for now but he takes note of how the amount of food you eat becomes less and less.

Arriving at the hotel after the final concert, you all head up to your room as usual where the guys will crash in the living room while you head into the kitchen to start cooking. But you’re pleasantly surprised to find the table already filled with food-you’re favourite food-when you walk in through the door. “You’ve worked hard too and we wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” Namjoon explains.

“You guys didn’t have to,” you tell them, touched by their actions. “But we wanted to!” Hoseok insists. “Now come on,” Seokjin says as guides you to the table, pulling out a chair and gently pushing down on your shoulders to make you sit down, “Let’s eat. Yoongi got all your favourites.”

Jungkook and Jimin run to get the kitchen to grab plates and utensils while the rest open all the food on the table. You excitedly kick your legs under the table, your eyes practically sparkling as you excitedly look at all the food. Pulling out the chair next to you, a small smile appears on Yoongi’s face as he watches you fondly.

But his expression melts into one of confusion when your face suddenly seems to fall and all your excitement comes to a halt. “Is something wrong?” he asks gently as he accepts a bowl from Jungkook and places it in front of you. Your head snaps up to meet his eyes, not realizing that he was watching you. “Oh, no, everything’s great! Thank you for this!” you shake his worries off, plastering a smile on your face.

The food smelled and looked so delicious and you were just so excited to eat all of it. But then you remembered that you were trying to lose some weight and you couldn’t eat as much as you wanted to. And of course, Yoongi noticed that one moment you let your expression fall.

You begin to sweat under Yoongi’s intense stare, feeling like he can read you like an open book. But then he’s suddenly looking away, reaching for your favourite foods and placing them in your bowl. “Eat, you must be hungry,” he says simply. Picking up your chopsticks, you bring a piece up to your mouth, chewing slowly and making sure to savour each bite as a lone tear escapes your eye, but you’re quick to wipe it away before anyone can see.

“I’m so full,” Hoseok says as he leans back in his chair, patting his stomach. “Me too, Hyung,” Jimin agrees, pushing his bowl away because he can’t eat anymore. Jungkook happily takes Jimin’s bowl and finishes what he couldn’t, making sure no food goes to waste. You all watch fondly as the maknae eats to his heart’s content, making an angry face because of how good the food is. There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing your loved ones eating well.

“We better start packing, we have an early flight tomorrow,” Seokjin says as he stands from his chair, starting to gather all the plates and bowls. “Don’t worry about that,” you say as you stand from your chair as well, holding your hand out to take the plates from Seokjin, “You guys go pack, I’ll clean the dishes.”

But he holds the plates up and out of your reach as he shakes his head at you, “You’ve done the dishes every time, let us do it for once.” You’re about to protest when Hoseok takes the dishes from Seokjin and heads for the kitchen, “It’ll be done faster if we all help anyway.” Pouting in defeat, you’re about to follow them into the kitchen when Yoongi gently grabs your hand and pulls you away into the living room.

Wordlessly, he lays on the couch before pulling you down to lie on his chest. Panic washes over you as you try to keep your weight off of him but your arms start to grow tired so you attempt to get off of him. But this only causes Yoongi to wrap his arms around you tighter, pulling you close until there’s not a centimetre of space left between you two. “Relax,” he tells you, gently stroking your back to try and help you calm down.

Reluctantly laying your head on his chest, your heartbeat slows as your heart starts to beat in sync with Yoongi’s calm one. You listen to his heartbeat in one ear and the chaos going on in the kitchen with the other. You can hear Seokjin and Hoseok yelling as the maknaes laugh, no doubt starting a water fight while washing the dishes. “Come on! How old are you?” you can’t help but giggle when you hear Namjoon whine. When they finally finish, they let you know the dishes are done and that they’re leaving, wishing you two goodnight before you hear the door shut.

You and Yoongi lay in peaceful silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence after such a busy time. Suddenly, Yoongi’s deep voice rumbles through his chest. “You’ve gotten lighter,” he simply observes, giving you an opening to let out whatever’s on your mind, but only if you want to. It’s a simple but caring gesture and before you know it, your eyes are brimming with tears.

Hiding your face in his chest, you let your tears fall and soak into his shirt as he simply holds you. “I just wanted to lose some weight,” you admit, voice watery. You hadn’t realized how much it was taking a toll on you until it all became too much for you to hold in. “Why would you want to do that?” he asks gently, not in a way of judgment, but simply wanting to understand you.

You shrug your shoulders at his question, “You said I was heavy.” Yoongi’s heart clenches at how small you sound and he curses himself for being so careless with his words. You were his light on his darkest days, his safe space, and just your comforting touch could wash all his pains away. You were his everything, and Yoongi will never forgive himself for making you feel like anything less, for letting you forget just how much he loves you; all of you.

He tightens his hold around you, hoping the action will help you understand just how precious you are to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, “I never meant it like that and I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” You shake your head at his apology as you snuggle further into him to communicate your forgiveness. Yoongi was the softest and gentlest person you’ve ever met. He’s never once raised his voice at you and you know he would never say anything with malicious intent.

“Don’t go on a diet. I don’t want a single gram of you leaving this Earth,” he says gently. “So cheesy,” you mumble into his chest. “Whatever,” he grumbles as he sits up to hide his burning cheeks, “Come on, I was able to grab some of your favourites before Jungkook could eat them.”

And you can’t say no as he secures his hands underneath you before standing up and carrying you to the kitchen where he places you on the counter. A fond smile forms on your face as you watch Yoongi move around the kitchen, silently heating up and plating your food with care. He may not be a man of many words, but you’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words and Yoongi’s actions spoke volumes.

You’re so enamoured by him that you only snap out of your trance when Yoongi comes to stand between your legs, his large, warm hands gently rubbing up and down the tops of your thighs. When Yoongi sees that you’re back with him, he picks up a piece of food with some chopsticks, holding his hand underneath as he lightly blows on it.

You accept the piece he holds out for you, letting out a sound of contentment and happily kicking your legs as you finally allow yourself to really enjoy it. Yoongi’s heart is full as you happily eat every bite he holds out for you until the bowl is empty. “I’m so full,” you breathe out as he places the bowl down. “Good,” he says as he once again wraps your legs around his waist and lifts you off the counter, “The best time to go to sleep is when you’re full.”

Carried back to the bedroom by Yoongi, you quickly fall asleep with your heart and stomach full, and Yoongi’s arms full of you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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myg-butterfly · 1 year

Text

How Many Things

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Tags: Non-Idol AU, Anti-Social Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks, Yoongi is an asshole for a minute, some of his friends are big time assholes, insecurities, social anxiety, lots of feelings, Teahyung and Namjoon are sweethearts, crying, jealousy, author's first fic lol.

A/N: HEY HELLO HI!!! This is my first fic that I'm publishing here so pls be gentle 🙏 And if you enjoy, leave feedback, good or bad, I love interactions. This is self-indulgent comfort that I've been thinking about for a long while and I was like ,,,,,, Yoongi got me 🥰🙏 Also this was slightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "how many things" from her album EICS go listen if you want the extra angst. So yeah, enjoy!

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You began to panic, the music was so, so loud, the clattering of dishes and glasses from the bar, the yelling, all the bodies and their humidity, it was all becoming too much, and to your dismay, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to recollect yourself as you began pushing through the crowd, determined on finding him. With every slip past a person, every step and stumble, you grew even more exhausted, but then finally, Yoongi came into view.

He was to the other end of the bar, a smile plastered in all his glory. Whoever he was talking to was clearly making him laugh, and just the sight of him made the tension in your shoulders ease a little bit. You were just about to call out to him, maybe even when fling yourself in his arms, but then-

Then you saw her. The one responsible for the way his face was currently scrunched with a happy grin. They stood close to each other, even as they turned the other way and moved to take a seat together at the bar. They were hand in hand, they looked like the human embodiment of perfection.

You felt your heart deflate as Yoongi pulled out a chair for her, proceeding to signal something to the bartender, the peace sign on his fingers and the pointing between him and her gave you the idea he asked for a drink for both of them. They continued to laugh and talk, and you had to force yourself to look away.

The sight of them made you remember why you hated going out, but even worse, you remembered why you vowed to not get romantically attached to anyone, especially not Yoongi.

The turning of your stomach was becoming hard to ignore, your quick breaths making matters worse. You knew you had to get out of there; with or without Yoongi. So with one last glance at him -who was still engrossed deeply in conversation with the woman next to him, leaning to whisper something in her ear and her reacting in a flustered manner- you fought your way to the door, tears beginning to spill the moment the night breeze greeted you.

As much as you wanted to just run and run and run until your body gave out on you, you knew better than to try and make it back to the dorms by foot.

You sighed defeatedly and pulled out your phone, texting the one person who you knew would be here without fail. As much as you didn't like bothering him (even though he's told you countless times you're not) you knew he'd scold you if you walked home on your own, and a scolding from him was never an enjoyable experience.

Y/N: are you busy rn?

Namjoon: Not currently. Why?

Y/N: can u pls come pick me up

Namjoon: Where are you? Are you safe?

Y/N: yeah, here's my location *📍*

Namjoon: I'll be there in less than 10. Stay put, okay?

Y/N: ok. ty joon.

Putting your phone away, you sat at the nearest bench you found, and attempted to stop the tears from falling further before Namjoon arrived.

But no matter how hard you tried, it was pretty much impossible to not think about why you were out here in the first place. Were you overreacting? Yoongi's allowed to have friends. So why are you so hurt? It's not even like you're together or anything.

In all honesty, you wanted to be mad at them.

You wanted to be mad at him for giving you even the slightest hope that there might be something more between you two.

You wanted to be mad at that girl he was with for being so damn perfect for him, for being everything that you could never begin to come close to.

But deep down you didn't have it in you to be angry at anyone but yourself.

How could you have been so stupid?

You knew that no one would want you romantically, you knew that all he felt for you was pity, that you'd never come first, and yet you still got your hopes up.

You let yourself dream that he wanted you like you wanted him. You believed all those things he said out of pity, all the reassurances and compliments, you knew that they were nothing but him simply being who he is; a naturally kind person.

You knew all of this, so why the hell were you crying? Why were you walking out and aimlessly trying to find anywhere else to go?

'Pathetic' you scoffed at yourself. You were being immature, everything everyone else had said about you was true. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Before you could continue to wallow in your self-pity, you felt a small tap to your shoulder, and you looked up to find Namjoon looking down at you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" You quickly wiped away your remaining tears and nodded your head, standing up to greet him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for coming Namjoon." You bowed slightly, trying your best to look well put together. "It's no problem dear. My car's this way, come on."

"You want me to drive you back to your apartment?" You both got in his car and he asked as you put on your seatbelts. "Yes, please. Thank you." He only hummed in response as he began to drive, a soft tune playing on the radio, just loud enough to make it less awkward.

Namjoon knew you probably weren't in the mood to talk, and you were grateful for the silent understanding you guys shared. You weren't awfully close, but you'd shared your own personal memories with each other, and you mutually knew the other would be willing to lend a hand when needed. That's what you liked about him. He was just understanding like that.

The drive to your apartment was short, and even though you lived on the 3rd floor, Namjoon insisted on walking you to your door.

"Hey, take care okay? If you need anything else don't hesitate to call me, yeah?" He said as you reached your door, the genuine look on his face made you tear up once more.

"Yeah. Thank you, Joon." You waved him off as you stepped into your apartment, closing the door as he began to turn around.

You immediately kicked off your heels and went to grab a glass of water. You chugged it down as if you hadn't had a drop of water in days, proceeding to open your fridge and let the waterworks begin as you realized your appetite was gone just seeing the carton of orange juice sitting there with a sticky note that reads, "YOONGI'S!!! DO NOT DRINK >:("

He'd helped you with your groceries about 2 weeks ago, and the orange juice he bought was claimed by him, protesting that he needed "emergency juice" because he was at your apartment so often.

Not wanting to look at his skrunkly handwriting anymore, you shut the fridge door and rested your head in your hands on the kitchen counter.

The more you thought about it, the more prominent the ache in your chest became. He was the one who invited you to that party in the first place. He was the one who wanted you to have fun. He was the one that promised he wouldn't leave your side. Yet here you were, back at the dorms, hugging yourself in attempts to conceal your heartbreak.

If you had gone on your own and just happened to see him there with another girl, then that would have been a different story.

But no.

Yoongi himself told you two nights ago that he was invited to a party, and he wanted you to accompany him as his plus one. And as nervous and hesitant as you were, he spurred you on, encouraging; "No matter what you wear you'll look stunning." And "Everyone will love you" and "I won't leave your side, okay?"

That one stung the most when you thought about it, because not even 15 minutes into the party, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. You could tell that most of his friends weren't too fond of you, and you felt ridiculous in the pink dress you wore.

You thought of how you'd taken hours to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not cry at your appearance made you cringe. You tried so hard to look nice, to feel pretty, to feel wanted, and it still didn't work.

You grew angrier, why weren't you good enough? What made it so hard to love you? You practically ripped off your dress, the fabric suddenly piercing your skin, your arms wiping off your already smearing makeup furiously, and you stomped to your bed, plopping down violently before letting out a strangled groan that sounded more like a whimper.

You felt like shit. Your whole night was shit.

Were you overreacting? You had been rude too. I mean, you left without even telling him. You're just as bad, right?

He's the one who left you standing there, Y/N. Your brain going back and forth until you decided that falling asleep would be easier.

"Sooo how'd it go with lover boy last night? Assuming things went well from what I saw." An overly excited Taehyung appeared at your side, a smug grin on his face as he poked your arms. You just shrugged your shoulders as a response, the mere mention of the previous night was enough to deflate your already souring mood.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N! I know you and Yoongi got it on last night!" Taehyung flailed his arms accusingly, as if waddling around would make his statements true. "We didn't get it on, Taehyung. Literally nothing happened. Nothing." You tried to remain calm as you spoke, but your patience was running thin.

"Oh come on Y/N. Yoongi was absolutely plastered this morning and you're gonna try to tell me nothing happened?" He kept on going as he shook your shoulders, and it took everything in you to not slap his hands away.

"Did he get home safe last night?" Your brows furrowed in slight worry at the mention of Yoongi being wasted, and no matter how hurt you were, you had to know if he was okay.

"Uh, yeah. Were you drunk too? I thought you guys left together. Do you not remember?" The lump in your throat was becoming harder to swallow down as Taehyung spoke. You had to be strong. You were not gonna cry over this to your poor friend who's excited.

"You know I don't drink. And, no we didn't leave together. I asked Namjoon to take me home." You hoped he'd stop asking questions, but much to your dismay- "You left with Namjoon?!?! Does Yoongi know?!?!? Did anything happen with him!?" At this point you were on the brink of tears, you hated talking about this.

"Taehyung, please let it go. I just wanted to know if Yoongi got home safely. Can we please just drop it?" Taehyung caught onto your pleading tone and the hurt look in your eyes, and he nodded with his softened expression.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to pry." He spoke cautiously. "It's okay Tae."

He shot you another worried look before returning to walking in silence beside you once again.

The rest of the day went painfully slow, your mind too exhausted to deal with walking from one side of campus to the other, and much less to pay attention to what your professors were saying.

Expectedly, you collapsed onto your bed the moment you went back to your dorm. You were gladly going to continue feeling sorry for yourself, but the ringing of your doorbell rudely interrupted you.

You groaned, hoping they'd just go away, but after a few seconds another ring came. You [grumpily] got up, running your hands through your hair in attempt to look somewhat presentable.

As you made your way to the door, you wondered who could be at your apartment, especially now that it was beginning to get late, the sun going down quickly outside.

You hesitantly opened the door, immediately wishing you would've just continued to ignore whoever was at the door once you saw who was standing in front of you.

"Hi, I brought dinner." There Yoongi stood with a soft smile on his face, lifting a brown bag in reference to dinner.

You stood stunned, wanting to say something, but your mind went blank.

"Y/N? You there?" He playfully waved his hands around trying to get your attention.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry. Just didn't expect you to come by."

"Oh, sorry if I startled you. I texted you but you didn't respond, and you didn't answer last night when I called, so I wanted to come check if you were okay." He shuffled from foot to foot, worry evident in his eyes.

"Oh, just haven't been on my phone lately." You looked down, feeling unsure on how to talk to him without showing him your hurt.

"Oh alright. So, we heading in for dinner?" The smile returned to Yoongi's face, and no matter how hurt you were, you still found it hard to say no to him.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Of course."

You opened the door a little further and stepped aside to let him in.

On a normal occasion, dinner with Yoongi would've been the highlight of your day. But now, it was filled with awkward silence and poor attempts at small talk — Yoongi hates small talk as much as you, so you don't know why he's still trying — the tension in the air was hardly going unnoticed.

It wasn't until you finished eating that he decided to just rip the bandage off.

"Are you angry with me?" Yoongi asked, and you almost questioned if he was being serious or not, but the expression he held made you realize that he was in fact clueless about the hurt he put you through.

You weren't sure what to say, so you stayed silent. I mean, it's not like you were angry at him. But you also weren't too happy with him either. Yoongi felt his heart drop as your gaze dropped his own, denying him from an answer.

"Y/N? Did I do something?" He asks from across the table where he's sitting.

For some reason hearing those words from him made the tears you've been holding back so well spill over.

Did he really have no idea? Were you genuinely overreacting? Did you just make everything up in your head?

"Do you really not know?" You tried to push your voice out firmly, but it came out in a broken whisper. You wanted to look at Yoongi, you wanted to see if his face washed over with realization, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Is this about me getting drunk at that party? I thought you said you didn't mind if I had alcohol." His wording sounded harsher than he intended, but with your already weakened state, you had to hold back from full on sobbing right there in front of him.

"This is about you leaving me by myself in the middle of the party when you promised you wouldn't leave my side!" Your frustration began to take over, did he really not see it? He's supposed to know you better than anyone else.

"Leaving you by yourself? Last thing I heard, you had found yourself a new companion for the night." Yoongi scoffed, his mood souring when he recalls finding out that apparently you'd left with some other guy.

The drinks he'd had were enough to make the night slightly blurry and to make him work a little harder to recall the night's events, but unfortunately, they weren't enough to make him forget how someone had stole you away from him.

"Where did you hear that?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt you were currently feeling.

"My friends" He responded, as if that was supposed to change what you had said.

"Your friends ... the ones you introduced me to?"

"Yeah"

"Your friends really don't seem to like me." You muttered, but Yoongi somehow caught the soft mumbling.

"What do you mean? To me it looked like they were all happy to meet you." His tone remained cold, and you felt more tears forming quickly.

"Well, you weren't there with me when they all laughed at me because I'd lost you in the crowd." You tried to defend yourself.

"They're not like that, I know they aren't."

"You wouldn't know how they acted towards me because you left me alone." You continued on, his face morphing into one resembling more of guilt.

"He left you already? Didn't even last half an hour."

"They haven't even had 1 drink tonight, no wonder Yoongi ran away so fast. Prude."

You winced while recalling how they'd laughed at you when you tried asking for Yoongi, passing it off as a joke when you'd gotten visibly upset.

You softened your tone, sadness catching up with you and replacing your frustration.

"It hurt, Yoongi. You know me better than anyone. You're supposed to know me better than anyone. You know how much I hate parties and bars, how I hate talking to people I don't know, how I don't do things alone. Ever. And you know that if I made you promise to not leave my side it's because I'm not ever planning to leave yours either. Do you know how bad it hurt to be panicking only to turn around and see you having the time of your life? Especially with someone else, when you promised me that night was for you and I only? It hurt, so damn bad."

Yoongi's heart dropped at your words, had it really been that bad for you? How did he not notice?

"I didn't leave with anyone yesterday, Namjoon brought me back to my apartment and left the moment I walked inside that door. You're the one that left with someone else last night, and it wasn't me."

A thick moment of silence engulfs you, and you begin to wait for a snap, or some sort of outburst from Yoongi, but all that comes is—

"Y/N... I- Shit. That's not-" You looked up hesitantly at the sound of Yoongi fumbling his words. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief before slowly moving closer and crouching down in front of you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I swear didn't mean to leave you. I went to go get the drinks, I did. And then when I couldn't find you I went and asked my friends if they had seen you, and they said that you'd gone off dancing with some guy, and so I went to go look for you and I ran into a classmate, which is the girl you saw me with. And I thought, since Y/N's off with someone else, it wouldn't hurt to have a drink with a girl from my class. I wouldn't have left you if I knew that you were by yourself. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi's gaze dropped to the floor as he finished, ashamed for being the root of your tears.

"I should've known better, I- I was just so opposed to seeing you happy with someone else that I immediately rejected the idea of looking for you to avoid the possibility of someone else making your night special. And I know that's not really a valid excuse, not looking for you because I was jealous- of something that wasn't even fucking happening- it isn't fair to you whatsoever. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I truly am." He takes your hands in his and takes a moment to recollect his next words.

"What can I do to make it up to you? Even if it's just the smallest fraction, I want to show you how sorry I am. Anything you want. Please." You paused for a moment, even though your conscience immediately knew what you wanted.

Hold me. Please. Hold me. Nudge your head with mine, lock our pinkies, put your leg against mine, anything. Please, hold me.

With your brain screaming mantras of 'I need to be held', you reached out for him for a second, before your body jerked to a stop.

No. I need him to hold me. I need him to reach out. He needs to initiate- please-

Yoongi's quick to notice your body language, and equally quick to react. "Do you want to be held, sweetheart?" You swear you felt yourself physically start to glow at the sound of him uttering the words you've been dying to hear for god knows how long.

You nod your head and you're so delighted by the aspect of someone- well, not just someone, but Yoongi- comforting you, that you don't even notice the soft whimper that leaves you as he scoots closer to you.

"Words, darling." He says softly, and your body automatically responds with soft chants of "Yes, please, yes Yoongi."

You don't even notice how tears begin to fall against your cheeks again when you feel Yoongi's hands wiping them away.

"C'mere, I've got you baby. Let's go to bed, yeah?" He grabs your legs and wraps them around his torso, before he holds you against him tightly and begins to stand up with you in his arms.

You feel yourself melting at the pet names he's giving you, glad that he's carrying you because you're sure your legs would've given out on you at this point.

You continue turning to mush when you feel how gently Yoongi sets you down once you reach your bed, how he squeezes your hand and asks for permission to lay with you with his eyes, how he reaches for you under the covers and cradles you close, fingers running through your hair softly.

The bliss is only momentarily, broken when your mouth moves faster than your brain;

"Yoongi?"

"Hm?"

"Why did it upset you when you thought I was at the club with someone else?" Your question comes out as a whisper, scared for his response.

"Y/N." He pulls back a little to see your face.

"Yoongi." You reply mocking his tone.

"Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you?" He's secretly glad that it's dark in your room, otherwise you'd be able to see the blush coating his cheeks.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, and his only response is a huff while pulling your head back into his chest.

"Yoooongiiii" Your whine comes out muffled by his shirt.

"Y/nnnnnn" It's now Yoongi's turn to mock your tone.

"Answer the questionnnn"

You feel the vibrations of his chest as he mumbles something into your hair, and you would've lost it on the spot if you weren't so focused on getting an answer out of him.

"Yoongi I can't understand you when you're mumbling like a child." You chuckle slightly, not wanting to dwell on how you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you before he mumbles once again, only this time louder.

"I don't understand you for shit." At this, Yoongi lets go of you and sits up with a sigh, looking at you for a second before securing his gaze on his hands. You follow suit and sit up as well, only slightly behind him.

"I like you. I've liked you. For a really long while." His voice is so soft and it sounds so timid, you almost think you're imagining it.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Wait- that's not a good way to respond to that. Uhhh- wait." You quickly shift so you're facing him fully.

"Do you mean like as in 'you're a homie' or like as in 'you're not just the homie you're THE homie'? Because before I say anything you would have to clari-"

"Do you think I do this with all my friends?" He cuts off your nervous ramble, grabbing both of your shaky hands with his equally shaken ones.

"What specifically?"

"All of it."

"Wha-"

"The sharing food? The holding hands and carrying you and bringing dinner over and inviting them everywhere with me? The cuddling and the 'baby' and 'doll'? You know how I am about my personal space, and you know how I am about my sleep, and you know how I am about affection. Do you think I do that with just anyone?"

"Well- I don't know, I mean- I don't know what your other friendsh-"

"I don't. You're the only one that gets to see me like this. You're the only one I treat like this. You're the only one I want to treat like this. I like you. And I want to be with you. And that's why I was upset. Because when I thought you were with someone else, it made me feel as if you didn't want the same thing as me."

Before you got the chance to even begin to process, Yoongi catches himself and feels the need to justify: "Obviously if you don't feel the same then I won't like, lash out at you or anything, it'll hurt but I don't want you to feel forced into something more with me than what we have now, it's just you asked me why I was upset and that was the only way I could explain it but I-"

"Yoongi." He's stopped by a soft tug to his shirt and the even softer sound of your voice.

You catch each other's eyes, the flickers of hope and longing between them, and the search of honesty.

"I feel the same."

A sigh leaves his lips and he breaks into a smile before picking you up in one motion and setting you on his lap so you're straddling him.

"Does this mean we're like, um- like,,,,"

"Like...?" His tone is teasing, and you know he knows what you mean.

"Like, y'know- like..."

"I actually don't know...."

"Yoongi." You huff out, your shyness getting the best of you.

"Yes?" His tone is smug, making you groan into his chest.

Working off of pure adrenaline, you mumble quietly: "Like, together."

"What was that doll?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face, making you try and shuffle away from him, but Yoongi's quicker, pulling you back into him with a giggle.

"If you're asking if we're officially dating, then don't even question it baby." He's still laughing, but his tone is firmer this time.

"So I'm taking that as a yes?"

"Fuck yes."

You burst out laughing at his response, and soon enough you've both fallen into a fit of giggles, as well as back into the bed, with you on top of Yoongi, before he flips you over so he's hovering over you.

"Y/N."

"Yoongi?"

"Can I kiss you?"

End.

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yearofinstitutionalization · 2 months

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155/638 One Suga a day while he is away

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hollyhomburg · 4 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers.

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually.

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

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Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

430 notes · View notes

urmingirl · 1 year

Text

This is so comforting♡

557 notes · View notes

spiralizera · 11 months

Text

Mistranslations

Pair: Namjoon/reader (English/anglophone)

Summary: You get into a fight with Yoongi over speaking English and not Korean.

Tags: Hurt/comfort; angst; protective Namjoon; angry Namjoon; soft so soft Namjoon; besties Namjoon and Yoongi

Warnings: xenophobia, mentions of racism [writer is white take that as you will], severe panic attacks, depression, non verbal coping mechanisms, use of the word ‘waegukin’ [I know it’s not a racial slur in the same way we understand racial slurs in the west, I mention that in the fic], chats about eurocentrism and colonialism [lol]

Notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, v spontaneous, possibly due to sun exposure, it’s like 29C rn, inspired by the gorgeous work of @dreamescapeswriting

You were waiting in the dressing room for the boys to finish their set. You’d been working in Gwanju and Namjoon had insisted that you come see him in Busan. The crowd had been insane and quite quickly you’d retreated backstage, overwhelmed. The English translator, now almost permanently on staff for unexpected interviews or even just preliminary prep on translation before content was churned out for online consumption, came and sat with you. She’d been working on her cultural knowledge of English recently and you quite quickly descended into a deep conversation about the politics of Eurovision. You were happy to help, she’d been a saint over these last few months, helping you with Korean.

Just as you were explaining the running joke that is the U.K. and the ‘nil point’ streak, Yoongi and Jungkook burst into the room on a performance high. Jungkook was giggly and jokingly collapsed into your back while Yoongi grabbed some water. They were mid conversation, their breath labouring, rushed and hard to hear. JK turned around and asked you something and since you were just talking to Seo in English, your brain couldn’t quite register what Jungkook was asking. He asked again, gesturing his hands towards the table, too tired to form full sentences. You turned to where he gestured and before you could fully kick your brain back into Korean and ask him to repeat it again, Yoongi scoffed something under his breath.

You paused, unsure if you’d misheard.

‘Sorry?’ You turned to Yoongi, asking in Korean as your brain played catch up with the chaos slowly pouring in from the stage.

Yoongi ignored you and started speaking to Jungkook. Jungkook laughed and pushed lightly off you, grabbing a bottle of water. You were close with the guys, it was easy. They had such a close and intense bond, it was impossible to be intimate with one without becoming close with the others. The only one who’d always remained at a distance from you was Yoongi. He sometimes pretended to exchange pleasantries, but largely kept himself a distance from you. He never spoke in English to you, he never tried to include you. You knew he spoke far better English than most of the boys, except for Namjoon of course. But he only spoke Korean around you. ‘Around’ was the correct word, never at you or with you, just around you, like you were an unfortunately placed pillar obstructing conversation. You largely ignored him, ignored the sick feeling in your stomach whenever he was in the room. It was natural to not click with everybody. Healthy in fact. These were Namjoon’s friends, not yours after all.

You heard the word again. You’d definitely not misheard this time.

‘Hey,’ you stood up, walking over to Yoongi. The boys turned around, jungkook slightly startled by the raise in your voice. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi looked at you deadpan. You were the same height and his eyes bore unflinchingly into yours. ‘I said,’ his English was slow like he was speaking to a child, ‘fucking waegukin.’

You stepped back, slightly stunned. It wasn’t a bad word, you knew that, it was a fact, you knew that. People referred to you as one all the time, it was fine, it was-

‘Everywhere we go it’s ‘speak English this’, ‘speak English that’, why don’t you fucking speak Korean? Why do we have to always accommodate you monolingual fucks? The level of entitlement, you come here expecting everything to be handed to you on a fucking plate. We just gave everything out there, Namjoon killed it and you’re in here demanding everyone speak to you in English, wasting the time of our translator, and not even come out and watch us. Namjoon gives you everything, what do you give him? That’s all westerners do, they take and take and demand we meet their standards, demand we make them comfortable. Would you even like Namjoon if he wasn’t an idol? Would you even like him if he couldn’t speak English? He gives so much of himself, so much energy translating and managing interviews and making sure we come across the right way to you westerners. Now he has to come home to you and your English face and your English language. Give him a fucking break. What can you give him, fucking waegukin?’

Yoongi had been getting closer and closer to you, Jungkook had tried grab his shoulder, to interrupt him but he’d shrugged him off. He’d seen red and couldn’t stop. You were just as stunned. You’d almost zoned out after a minute, watching the scene from another corner, alongside the stunned crew. In theory you knew that Yoongi was tired, that this was about something else, something bigger than you. He was right you hadn’t seen the majority of the concert, maybe something had happened onstage. There’d be a simple explanation, you knew that. You knew that. But your heart was in your throat, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. Every insecurity, every worry that had been simmering underneath your skin since you started dating Joon, that Joon had always dismissed and told you not to worry about, was now echoing about the room in one awful silence.

It felt like an eternity had passed.

‘Y/N-‘ Jungkook broke the spell, but you were faster. You didn’t even grab your things, you just needed to leave as quickly as humanly possible. You ran out the room, heading towards the cars, asking the nearest taxi to please drive, before you could see the way Yoongi’s eyes slowly cleared, the realisation that he’d truly fucked up dawning on his face.

——————————————-———————-

14 missed calls. 8 from Joon. 4 from Jungkook. 2 from Seo. You didn’t dare look at the messages that had been solidly lighting up your phone for the past hour. You just needed to get out. You needed to get out right now. You were shoving clothes into your suitcase. You’d catch a train to Gwanju, or maybe a plane would be easier, would there be any planes this late at night? Maybe the train then, or a hire car, but you weren’t really in any state to drive- Maybe you should just cut out the middle man and go straight to Seoul. You had friends there, friends from home who’d grown up split between Korea and Europe. But you didn’t want to worry then. You didn’t want them to know that this kind of relationship couldn’t work. That you were repeating the same mistakes that their parents had made, that maybe the cultural gap was too big. You didn’t want to cause them pain, you were causing everyone so much-

There was a knock at the door. You froze. Shit. You briefly debated scaling the fire escape, but thankfully dropped that idea. Maybe if you just stayed quiet, whoever it was, would go away. Maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you’d still be able to escape. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. You needed to leave right now. Right fucking now.

‘Y/N please,’ it was Namjoon. ‘Please open the door. It’s just me. Please I need to know that you’re ok.’

You softened slightly, your body couldn’t help but respond to his voice. But then your brain kicked into gear again. English, he was speaking in English. He was accommodating you, yet again, he had just finished a concert and he was probably exhausted and he had to deal with you, Yoongi’s words bouncing around your head. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t-

You heard some soft swearing behind the door. ‘Ok I’m coming in Y/N,’ Namjoon slowly entered the room. He had an idea about what had happened, he’d seen you react like this before, he was just glad you were still at the hotel. He walked slowly towards you, arms outstretched like he was approaching a stray. He’d made sure to get rid of every single bit of his anger before coming to find you. He’d ripped into Yoongi and Yoongi had taken it, stood there limply and said nothing. Still high from the stage, he would’ve punched him if it hadn’t been for Jin and Jungkook holding him back. He’d forced himself to calm down before going to find you, he knew he it couldn’t come near you in this state.

He’d phoned the hotel to check you were there before sending Hobi ahead with explicit instructions to not to knock but just make sure that your hotel room light was still on and let him know if you left.

‘It’s ok baby,’ he almost whispered. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ he softly repeated until he was close enough to envelop you in a hug. You initially resisted before allowing yourself to break down and cry. Namjoon held the back of your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head as he continued to repeat the mantra. Your legs started to go and he swiftly carried you to the bed. He didn’t let you go. He wouldn’t let you go. He controlled his own breathing, holding down the anger that bubbled just below his skin. He took your shaking hand and kissed each finger tip with such care and love before placing it flat against his chest You focussed on his heart, it’s even beats, strong and steady. You matched it’s rhythm with your fingers and eventually your breath followed.

‘It’s ok. You’re ok. I love you. I love you so much,’ Namjoon whispered sweet nothings into your hair and you focussed more on the feeling of his lips than his actual words. Eventually your eyes became heavy and you thankfully slipped away from this awful evening.

Morning came and Namjoon was still holding you. He was reluctant to let you go. Your head was heavy and you felt like were moving underwater. This was often the way after a bad night. You’d finally learnt to recognise the signs, learnt to treat them as something external, symptoms, side affects, not personal failings, character flaws.

Namjoon had learnt too. Just as you had so quickly become attuned to his bad days, the days he couldn’t leave the bed, the days he communicated solely through text messages and grunts, the days he was tired of fronting, tired of masking. It’d been hard, so hard. But you’d eventually let him in too. Let him take care of you. Stopped being so vigilant to everyone else’s needs and let him catch you.

You both stayed in bed for a long time, waking up slowly before letting yourselves fall back asleep again. Joon ordered room service and made you tea, forcing you to drink something and nibble on toast. Wordlessly and easily you moved in time with the other, understanding each others signals. Only the occasional ‘come on’, ‘jagi’, or ‘baby,’ from Namjoon as he coached you into returning back to your body. He’d put the phones somewhere you both couldn’t see them, and while you read, he went and drew you a bath.

The sound of the crowds, thickly ringing the hotel, continued to echo into the afternoon. Ideally Namjoon had wanted to take you somewhere outside, go for a walk to a park or a convenience store, something easy and familiar. But that simply wasn’t possible.

‘Jagiya,’ he called softly to you, still lying in bed, reading your book and tracing the late afternoon sun spots. ‘I’m taking you home tomorrow, is that ok?’

You nodded softly, allowing Namjoon to drag you across the bed into his arms. You felt numb. You felt tired.

——————————————————————

‘Absolutely not.’

Namjoon was trying to find his current reading book before heading to the studio. He’d reluctantly returned to work a couple days after you’d both come back to Seoul. You’d insisted, insisted that you were ok now. Maybe he’d jumped the gun.

‘You are not going anywhere near him, especially not alone.’ He came and stood in the doorway of your study, like he could physically stop you from leaving.

‘Jin is leaving in a couple of days, I’m not going to be the cause of any tension or awkwardness that’ll ruin his send off. You guys need each other more than ever now.’

You get up, matching his stance.

‘You haven’t done anything,’ he punctuated the ‘you’. ‘If anyone’s ruined anything it’s him. He crossed the fucking line.’

You sigh. Your fingers graze his arms, you can feel the anger vibrating just under there. He pretends it’s not there, he pretends you don’t know. He thinks he’s protecting you. You don’t say anything, just gently need the tension from his arms.

His hands eventually fall to your hips before travelling up your back and neck. He leans down and kisses you, your face between his hands like an offering. Its not horny. Its gentle. It’s protective. It’s like you’re the most precious thing in the word. ‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’ He whispers, refusing to even let your eyes slip from his grasp.

‘I know’, you whisper back. ‘I know Joonie. you’re good jooni, so good.’

——————————————————————

Yoongi hadn’t attempted to reach out to you since the night of the concert. Not that he would usually text you, it’d be more disturbing if he had.

As soon as Joon had left for the studio, you texted Jungkook to let him know phase 1 was complete. Jungkook’s job was to keep Joon distracted just long enough to execute phase 2. Before you could think about it too much, you picked up your phone and dialled.

‘Meet me at the convenience store in Dosan. I want to talk.’

——————————————————————

Mid afternoon the streets were almost deserted in Gangnam. Everyone was working or at least trying to avoid the mid afternoon heat. You sat at a plastic picnic table, your back against the shop’s glass windows and your feet up on the bench. You sipped on your coffee - hot drinks in hot weather, you’d learnt that working service - and watched the fruit cellar obnoxiously ring his bell, hopping from one dappled island of shade to another. If the coward didn’t show then at least you’d had a pleasant afternoon.

Two bottles of beer were carefully placed on the table, the clink of glass bringing you back to reality. ‘I thought you might like something stronger than coffee.’

Yoongi’s face was almost completely covered - the classic idol combo of bucket hat, sunnies and face mask - but he still radiated sheepishness.

You say nothing, and watch him eventually open the bottle and pour you a glass. It was unnecessarily formal for a convenience store. But you thought, let him play host. Let him show the foreigner good korean table etiquette.

You take a swig and return to watching the fruit seller. He has some customers now. It’s quite busy. They’ll need to form a line.

You’re both silent for a long time. Neither one of you are great conversationalists and Yoongi seems to be on the brink of an aneurysm. Eventually you relent.

‘Listen,’ your Korean is tense but you know it’s correct, you’ve made sure it’s correct, you refuse to give him an inch. ‘You were right the other night. It’s fucked up how the west and Europe looks at Asia, especially relatively new democracies like Korea. We hold them to,’ you gesture with your hand as you look for the word, ‘unbelievably high standards and then judge them for it. we judge you from democracies that are far far from perfect, democracies that are always on the edge of fascism, democracies that are built off the blood and backs of slavery, colonialism and ecological devastation. We forced you all to speak English and now English is the lingua Munda. You’re right to be angry, you’re right to be upset, especially considering the awful things this country has had to deal with from the likes of the USA. It must be incredibly frustrating and patronising to have to learn English, conduct interviews in English and be constantly asked for everything to be in English, to be considered worthy of international recognition. If anything you guys are proof that you don’t need English at all to dominate the global stage.’

Yoongi went to open his mouth then, but you waved him away.

‘But that doesn’t mean that you get to talk to me like that. Not you. Not anyone. Everything that you said, I’ve thought about myself ten times over and ten times worse. Namjoon and I have had so many conversations about this; before I came to Korea I had some understanding of the history of violence and colonialism this country had been subjected to for centuries, from the Japanese, from the US. But I still came to it from s western, trans-Atlantic understanding of colonialism and I’ve been working and researching to understand these different histories and thoughts and ways of speaking so I can fully understand. It’s a huge part of my job Yoongi, working in Gwanju.’

You could feel yourself getting off track. You took another swig of beer and tried to rain it back. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out into the street. You weren’t sure if your Korean was making any sense.

‘White guilt, western guilt, it’s boring and fruitless. It puts the onus on those who’ve been subjected to these systems of systemic violence. I know this. But in that moment Yoongi what you said was cruel and hurtful and i panicked and I needed to get the fuck out of there. You were right I missed half the show, I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was, whatever all of,’ again you gesture wildly, ‘whatever all of this fucked up fuckery we live in is, you don’t get to use me as a…a punching bag.’

Your Korean had become shaky at the end and you’d stumbled into English just so you could finish your point. You weren’t used to defending yourself, it still went against your instincts. Your heart was racing.

For a couple minutes, the sound of your breath was all you could hear, blood rushing to your ear drums.

‘It’s not true.’

‘What?’ You look up, Yoongi was now looking directly at you.

‘You said that what I’d said had been true. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. It was xenophobic and racist. You’re right, we’re subjected to these fucked up systems but that doesn’t mean that we can weaponise them and manipulate them to hurt each other, that’s not how they will end.’

You look at him, unconsciously mouthing some of his words as you try to process them in your head.

‘I’m sorry Y/N. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I knew about your panic attacks. I knew what I was doing. It was completely and utterly fucked up, I’m so so sorry. You’re so great with Joon and I-

‘You don’t think that.’

He faltered. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think that I’m good with Namjoon,’ you repeated. ‘Ever since we started dating, you’ve avoided me, you never talk to me.’

‘I-‘

‘In fact you often leave the room if im in it. I think the other night was perhaps the longest conversation we’ve ever had, if you can call it that.’

Yoongi seemed to close then. He drew back. You sighed, you were tired of this. ‘Namjoon acts like it doesn’t matter but you’re his best friend Yoongi. I know he’s used to telling you everything. He’s so angry right now. I don’t want to come between you two, I don’t want him to lose you. He needs you.’

Yoongi looked up suddenly at that. His eyes were bright. ‘I don’t want to lose him either.’ He whispered, quickly ducking his head and raking his hands through his hair. You were worried he might try pull it out.

‘I’m sorry i treated you the way that I did. It was cruel and unnecessary, to you and Namjoon.’

You folded your arms and cocked your head.

‘I was weary. And it wasn’t because you weren’t Korean, I’ve close friends who’ve married people not from Korea, who’ve moved abroad-‘

‘Careful,’ you interjected, smiling. ‘You’re starting to sound like those people who insist that they aren’t racist because they have black friends.’

‘-but I was worried about how it’d affect the music,’ he persisted. ‘I was worried about how Namjoon’s priorities would not only shift towards love but also across continents and languages. I was worried he’d be stretched too thin and that the music would suffer.’ He looked at you then, before voicing your deepest fears. ‘That he would suffer.’

‘I’ve known him since he was young and he wasn’t like the rest of us. He’d never allowed himself to get distracted by girls or love. He’d been 100% on the music and the group, nothing else. Part of me worried about the music, but a big part of me worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle it.’ He grabbed your hand then, he could see the guilt and panic start to fester behind your eyes. ‘Because he was falling hard for you Y/N, so hard, harder I think than any of us have fallen before.’

You nodded, unable to speak.

‘I love him Yoongi,’ you breathed, not daring to look away.

Yoongi let go of your hand, he leaned back and took a swig of beer. He fiddled with the label, tearing it into tiny pieces.

‘The truth is Y/N that I’ve never seen him so happy.’ Yoongi rolled the shreds of bottle label into tiny cigarettes and laid them in a row on the table. ‘His songwriting is on s different level and, and he’s calmer,’ your breath catches in your throat at that one. ‘He’s calmer and you can see behind his eyes, you know, he’s not…always putting up a front.’

Yoongi stopped talking then. But you didn’t dare start. You didn’t want to break the spell.

‘I said some fucked up shit the other night. One thing I said was that he must be so tired coming home to you and having to speak English, but it’s not true. I’ve never seen him so healthy, so full of energy. I don’t know your relationship, and that’s my fault, but I don’t think you drain him at all. Not in the slightest. I think you do the opposite, Y/N. Im sorry.’

Yoongi leaned back then, pretended to watch the people walking past. His shoulders slumped forward.

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’

His head whipped around. He must have misheard you. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’ You repeat again, smiling at him.

He blinks at you. ‘What is this? Primary school? You want to be my friend? Is it that easy?’

‘It can be. If you want it to be.’

Yoongi leaned back before suddenly smiling and getting up from the table with outstretched arms. ‘Come here, noona.’

You laugh and meet him in the hug.

‘You’re older than me!’

He grips you in a bare hug and shakes you from side to side. ‘Doesn’t matter, you’re far wiser than I will ever be.’

Suddenly a car pulls up and Jungkook is apologetically staring at you both from the driver’s seat. Before any of you can register what’s going on, Namjoon has vaulted out of the passenger side, across the car and scooped you into his arms.

‘Oh my god, I was so worried.’ His hands moved across your face and hair as if to make sure everything was where he’d last left it. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour but you haven’t been answering. I was freaking out and then Jimin said that Yoongi had also gone awol and hadn’t been in his studio for at least an hour and we put two and two together-‘

It was at that moment that Namjoon remembered Yoongi standing there, his arms swinging from where you’d been ripped from them. Namjoon instinctively put himself between you and him.

‘What do you want? What did you say to her? You’ve got some fucking nerve coming anywhere near her.’

Jungkook was out the car now and fruitlessly had his hands between the two, unsure who he was going to have to hold back.

You scoffed and pushed past Joon. ‘It’s ok Joon. It’s fine.’ You kept a steady hand on his arm.

‘We talked it out. It’s ok. It’s sorted, Yoongi apologised, all is forgiven, I promise.’

Namjoon’s eyes flitted between yours and Yoongi’s, the pain in them at having to fight his best friend over his girlfriend starting to seep through.

Yoongi must’ve seen it as well because he stepped forward. ‘Joon it’s true. She called me. I apologised, atoned for my sins, we solved neo-colonialism and late capitalism, we’re good.’ Namjoon’s eyes were still tight, he wasn’t moving. Yoongi sighed and grabbed his neck before Jungkook could intervene, leaning his forehead against Joon’s. ‘She’s incredible bro. You’re lucky to have her. I’m so fucking grateful she forgave me. I can’t wait to get to know her better. Can you forgive me?’

There was an intense few seconds. Before some silent communication took place because suddenly Namjoon and Yoongi were in the deepest of hugs. The kind of bear hug guys will do, slapping each other on the back and sort of rocking back and forth. You joined Jungkook on the sidelines, leaning against the car and trying not to laugh at the greatest romance in history unfolding before your eyes.

‘I missed you bro.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘Uughh!’ Jungkook loudly groaned, ribbing you. ‘Hyung can we go get tonkatsu now or what?’

#bts fic #kim Namjoon #rm #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenarios #angst #namjoon angst #hurt/comfort #namjoon hurt/comfort #namjoon fic #BTS oneshot #min yoogni #namjoon and Yoongi #relationship anarchy #love your friends people

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