#assassin namjoon

[keehomania]

troublemaker (트러블) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

you were trouble, everyone knew it. from the moment you entered a room, you carried an aura that demanded attention, the kind of allure that held people captive in the snare of your presence. in a world where appearances could be weapons, you were the embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype as lethal as it was beguiling. your beauty wasn’t merely skin-deep; it was a complex tapestry woven from threads of danger, allure, and an almost tangible sense of enigma.

your eyes, framed by a cascade of midnight-black lashes, were twin pools of mystery that could ensnare anyone who dared to meet your gaze. they shimmered with an intensity that hinted at secrets too dark to unveil, secrets that whispered of peril and allure in the same breath. when you walked, each step was a masterstroke of elegance and seduction, the hem of your dress swaying like the tendrils of a siren's call. the colors you wore were never just colors; they were statements, woven into the fabric of your being like the brushstrokes of a master painter’s most provocative work.

your voice, when it cut through the ambient hum of a room, was velvet and smoke—rich and inviting, yet laden with the promise of consequences that could spiral into chaos. it could lure and disarm, coaxing even the most guarded heart into the realm of vulnerability. conversations with you were like navigating a labyrinth; each word, each pause, was meticulously crafted to captivate, ensnare, and ultimately control.

in your presence, the air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, an ethereal glow that made reality seem like a mere shadow of the world you conjured. you moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, a dance that was both hypnotic and dangerous. the way you tilted your head, the slight curve of your smile—it all contributed to a spellbinding performance that kept everyone on edge. if looks could kill, you would have been executed long ago. your mere gaze was a weapon honed to perfection, capable of dismantling the strongest of defenses with a single glance. the enchantment you wielded was not merely a play of physical beauty but a deadly precision of emotional manipulation and psychological prowess. to encounter you was to walk a tightrope over an abyss, where every step was fraught with the potential for either profound enchantment or complete destruction.

you were a canvas of contradictions, a symphony of beauty and menace. each interaction with you was an intricate dance on the edge of a razor, where the thrill of the unknown mingled with the inevitable sting of consequences. In the grand theater of life, you were the lead role in a drama so intense and captivating that it demanded the audience's complete surrender. the enigma you embodied was a work of art in itself, crafted with the precision of a masterful painter and the allure of an ancient legend. you were the perfect embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype so potent that even the hint of your presence could render the most formidable of souls powerless.

you were a vision of lethal elegance, the very embodiment of danger wrapped in glamour. in the dimly lit bar, your presence was nothing short of an intoxicating spell, casting a spell that had everyone under its sway. the room pulsed with life, the throbbing beat of music mingling with the electric current of your allure. all eyes were drawn to you, some with a flicker of lust, others with a trace of envy. you anticipated this reaction with an almost preternatural certainty, knowing exactly how to wield your beauty as a weapon of desire and control.

perched on a plush velvet bar stool, you sipped your martini with an air of nonchalance, the delicate glass catching the ambient light and casting glimmers that mirrored the sparkle in your eyes. the glistening liquid within the glass seemed to reflect the dangerous playfulness that danced beneath your composed facade. every sip was a deliberate act, each moment stretched out to heighten the tension that thrummed through the bar like an electric charge.

as you savored your drink, a man, drawn in by the magnetic pull of your presence, approached you with a confident stride. his gaze was fixated on you with a mixture of desire and admiration. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur as he offered to buy you another drink. you responded with a smile that could melt steel and a purr that was as soft as it was deadly. “i’m not thirsty anymore,” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear. “in fact, i’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

your words were accompanied by a slow, deliberate exploration of his body—your knee pressed suggestively against the bulge in his pants, your fingertips tracing lazy, teasing patterns along his arm. he was ensnared, mesmerized by the intoxicating blend of your touch and your voice. with each subtle caress, you could feel his resolve dissolving, his body responding with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. you guided him with practiced ease toward the staircase leading up to the hotel above the club. each step you took was measured, each glance you cast over your shoulder a calculated part of the seduction. when you reached the room you had rented hours before, the anticipation hung in the air like a charged current.

inside the room, the atmosphere shifted from the vibrant chaos of the bar to an intimate and charged tension. you pushed him onto the bed with a combination of grace and dominance, your lips finding his in a heated kiss that spoke of all the promises and perils to come. as the passion intensified, you suddenly pulled away, a playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “wait here,” you instructed, your voice a velvet command as you slipped away to the bathroom. the soft click of the door closing behind you was the only sound before you emerged, your form now adorned only in a lacy bra and panties. in your hands, you held a bundle of rope, its coiled lengths a stark contrast to your alluring appearance. you presented it to him with a languid, almost theatrical flourish, the rope glistening in the soft light as you displayed it with a provocative grace.

his eyes were locked on the rope, his eagerness palpable as he reached out, his breath quickening with anticipation. but before he could fully grasp his desires, you were swift and unerring. the rope was suddenly around his throat, its fibers cold and unyielding against his skin. his eyes widened in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to breathe. the thrill of the moment was palpable in the room, the transformation from seduction to danger swift and complete.

your expression remained impassive, almost detached, as you tightened the rope with measured precision. you watched with an indifferent gaze as the life began to ebb from his eyes, the struggle growing weaker with each tightening of the rope. the room was silent save for the faint, strangled sounds of his attempts to breathe, and your own calm, steady breaths as you held him in your grip.

once the light of life had dimmed from his eyes, you released the rope with a smooth, practiced motion, the finality of your actions as clean and efficient as the execution of a well-rehearsed performance. without a moment's hesitation, you retrieved your phone from the nightstand, dialing the number you knew by heart. your voice was cool and composed as you delivered the message, “the job’s finished.” the transaction was complete, your demeanor as flawless and unperturbed as ever. the power of your presence, combined with the lethal precision of your actions, left no room for doubt. your looks could, indeed, kill.

in the dimly lit ambiance of a high-end club, where shadows danced along the walls and whispers wove through the air like silk, kim namjoon emerged as a figure of compelling elegance and magnetic allure. his presence was a striking contrast to the dim setting, an embodiment of polished sophistication and commanding charm. from the moment he entered the room, it was as if the very air around him shifted, aligning with his undeniable magnetism.

his appearance was nothing short of captivating. his sharp, chiseled features were sculpted with an artist’s precision—his high cheekbones, a strong, defined jawline, and the perfectly straight bridge of his nose created a visage that could have been plucked from the pages of a fashion magazine. his eyes, dark and intense, held a glimmer of mischief beneath their calm facade. they were the kind of eyes that seemed to see through every pretense, a deep, penetrating gaze that drew people in and held them captive, like a spell they were powerless to break.

his hair was styled with an effortless grace, each strand falling into place as if it had been carefully tousled by an unseen hand. it framed his face with an artful disarray that only enhanced his allure, giving him a look that was both casually disheveled and meticulously groomed. every movement he made was fluid, a smooth, deliberate motion that spoke of both confidence and control. his attire—a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame—was a testament to his keen sense of style. the fabric draped over him with an elegance that was both understated and luxurious, the dark hue of his suit contrasting sharply with the warm glow of the club’s lighting.

as he navigated through the room, every step seemed to radiate a quiet power, his aura compelling and commanding. there was an inherent grace to his movements, a calculated ease that made him seem as though he were gliding rather than walking. women turned their heads as he passed, their gazes lingering with a mixture of admiration and desire, their reactions a testament to the impact of his presence.

he knew precisely how to wield his beauty and charm, turning it into a weapon of seduction and influence. his smile was a carefully honed tool, flashing with just the right amount of warmth and allure to disarm even the most guarded soul. it was a smile that suggested both confidence and an intimate understanding of human nature, a combination that made him irresistibly intriguing. in conversation, his voice was a smooth, velvety timbre that could both soothe and stir, a voice that could command attention or whisper promises of indulgence. each word he spoke was measured and deliberate, imbued with a charisma that made every interaction feel like a dance. he could make the simplest of exchanges seem like a tantalizing game, where every glance and every phrase was part of a larger, more complex play.

kim namjoon was more than just a man of striking appearance; he was an embodiment of an almost otherworldly charm that made him a force to be reckoned with. his beauty was not merely skin-deep but a carefully curated blend of aesthetics and allure, sharpened by a sly intelligence and a commanding presence. his very being radiated a magnetic energy that drew others to him, an aura of irresistible power and charm that made him both a captivating enigma and an undeniable force.

as he moved through the crowded club, his presence was like a magnetic force drawing the eyes of every observer, yet his attention was singularly focused on one woman. she was a vision of allure, her eyes locked onto him with an unspoken recognition of his power and charm. he approached her with a fluid grace, his every movement deliberate and poised.

he came from behind her, his touch an intimate caress that seemed to awaken a shiver down her spine. she arched into his touch, as if her body had anticipated his arrival, responding to his presence with a blend of eagerness and trust. his fingers traced a path along her delicate skin, sending waves of warmth and anticipation through her. leaning in, he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “do you wanna get out of here?” the words were laced with a promise of excitement and danger, an invitation wrapped in seductive undertones. she nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips curving into a smile of eager compliance as she allowed him to guide her through the throng of revelers.

as they navigated their way out of the club, namjoon’s hands continued their languid exploration along her back and sides, each touch a reminder of the allure he wielded with such ease. they moved together in a rhythm of anticipation, their path illuminated by the flashing lights of the city as they ventured into the shadowed recesses of an alleyway. in the quiet, obscured alley, the vibrant chaos of the club seemed like a distant memory. his whispers became more insistent, his words slipping into a darker, more provocative territory. the woman's excitement was palpable, her breath hitching as his voice wove a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

as they reached a more secluded spot, his hand brushed against his pocket, his keys falling from his grasp and clattering onto the ground. he paused to retrieve them, his movements precise and deliberate. it was in this moment of vulnerability that the woman's anticipation turned to confusion, her eyes widening as the reality of her situation began to dawn on her.

in a swift, practiced motion, his demeanor shifted from seductive to menacing. as he straightened, his hands were no longer gentle but cruelly firm. his fingers closed around her throat with an unyielding grip, his strength a chilling contrast to the tenderness he had earlier exhibited. her eyes, once filled with lust, were now wide with a horror that seemed to freeze time itself. he applied pressure with a cold efficiency, the life gradually ebbing from her eyes as she struggled against the relentless force of his grip. he watched impassively as the light in her eyes dimmed, her struggles growing weaker until her body went limp. the transition from desire to demise was abrupt, the room falling into a stifling silence as she dropped dead at his feet.

with her lifeless body at his feet, namjoon remained calm, his expression a mask of unperturbed satisfaction. he removed his phone from his pocket with the same grace he had shown throughout the evening, his fingers moving with practiced precision. dialing a number, he spoke into the phone with a voice that was as cool and collected as ever. “the job’s finished,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate persona he had so masterfully projected moments before. the efficiency of his actions, the seamless transition from charm to ruthlessness, underscored the true extent of his dangerous allure. kim namjoon was a master of manipulation, his beauty and charm just facets of a more profound and deadly artistry.

the morning sun cast a golden haze across the room, its rays filtering through the gauzy curtains and illuminating the opulent space in a soft, ethereal glow. you sat gracefully at the edge of a lavish, velvet-clad armchair, a picture of effortless sophistication. in your hand, you held a glass of deep, ruby-red wine, the liquid swirling gently as you lifted it to your lips. the wine’s rich aroma filled the air, mingling with the faint hint of your perfume—a heady blend of jasmine and sandalwood.

there was a certain serenity in the ritual of your morning indulgence, despite the gnawing presence of alcohol's creeping dependence. the wine had become both a sanctuary and a torment, a paradoxical solace that masked the terror of its increasing hold over you. each sip was a delicate escape from the relentless pressure of your world, a brief respite before the day's demands unfolded.

as you savored the wine, your phone buzzed on the polished marble table beside you. the sharp, insistent sound shattered the tranquil cocoon you had wrapped yourself in. with a graceful motion, you reached for the device, your fingers curling around it with a practiced ease. the screen lit up with the name of your boss, and a flicker of tension passed through you.

you answered the call, your voice steady and composed despite the slight edge of apprehension that had begun to surface. “yes?” you intoned, your tone smooth but alert. the voice on the other end was cold, the authority it wielded palpable even through the phone. “listen closely,” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats. “we have a high-priority target for you today. this isn’t just any assignment. you’re to eliminate kim namjoon.”

the name hit you with an unexpected force, a jolt that made you sit up straighter. you had heard whispers about him, tales spun in dark corners and hushed conversations, but it all seemed like distant lore—stories of a man who was, in your mind, nothing more than an intriguing footnote. now, the reality of the task set before you was both startling and intensely personal. “kim namjoon?” you repeated, your voice a blend of disbelief and challenge. the name rolled off your tongue, testing the weight of its significance. “i’ve heard of him. he’s part of a rival team, correct?”

“correct,” she affirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “he's a significant player, a dangerous one. this job requires precision. you must understand the risks. he’s not to be underestimated. we need this done cleanly and without trace. his elimination will shift the balance in our favor.” the intensity of her words sharpened the focus of the task ahead. the air around you seemed to thicken with the gravity of the assignment, the warmth of the wine now mingling with a cool edge of determination. the threat posed by namjoon wasn’t just about personal rivalry; it was a crucial move in a broader, more intricate game.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle upon your shoulders. your resolve hardened, the initial disbelief melting into a fierce, unwavering determination. “i understand,” you said, your voice resolute. “i assure you, the job will be finished in no time.” with that, the call ended, leaving you with the echo of her command and the impending challenge that loomed large in your mind. you set the wine glass down, its contents reflecting the slivers of sunlight that now seemed to pierce through your calm exterior. the stakes had been set, the target identified, and the path forward was clear.

kim namjoon would be your next conquest, a puzzle to be solved with the precision and finesse that defined your craft. the thrill of the hunt coursed through you, blending with the calm confidence you had cultivated over countless assignments. the morning’s tranquility had dissipated, replaced by a focused intensity that sharpened your every sense. the game was on, and you were ready to meet it head-on.

the morning sun peeked through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a hazy light that filtered through the cluttered room. namjoon sat at the small kitchen table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. the rich aroma of the brew was a stark contrast to the disarray that surrounded him. his gaze was fixed on the scene before him—his disheveled roommate sprawled across the couch, the telltale signs of a wild night evident in the scattered cans of alcohol and the faint scent of stale beer that clung to the air.

namjoon’s distaste for alcohol was well-known, a preference rooted in the queasiness it induced rather than any moral stance. to him, the presence of the empty cans was a nauseating reminder of indulgences he avoided. he turned his attention back to the comforting warmth of his coffee, seeking solace in its steady, untroubled existence. the silence of the morning was abruptly broken by the shrill ring of his phone, an intrusion that jolted him from his thoughts. he glanced at his roommate, ensuring that the phone’s call wouldn’t disturb his friend’s slumber. with a deft motion, he picked up the phone, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he answered.

the voice on the other end was as sharp and commanding as ever. “namjoon, good morning,” his boss greeted, the tone both professional and serious. “i trust you’re ready for the next assignment?” he nodded, even though his boss couldn’t see him. “of course,” he replied, his voice steady and attentive. “what’s the task?”

there was a moment of silence, heavy with anticipation, before his boss continued. “today’s assignment is likely the hardest one you’ve faced. we’ve come across a particularly elusive target. her name is (y/n) (l/n), and she’s not just any case. she’s known for her lethal precision and cunning. the stories you’ve heard about her are not mere rumors; they’re a testament to her skills.”

the gravity of the warning was palpable, and namjoon’s interest was piqued. he had heard fragmented stories about a woman of your reputation, a figure shrouded in intrigue and danger. he had never expected his path would cross with someone like you, nor had he anticipated the challenge this would present. “understood,” he said, his tone taking on a determined edge. “i’m aware of her reputation. if she’s as formidable as you say, i’ll handle it with the utmost care. rest assured, i’ll eliminate her with the precision and efficiency expected.”

the conversation concluded with a sense of mutual understanding and resolve. namjoon ended the call, his mind already strategizing the best approach to the task at hand. he looked once more at his roommate, who remained oblivious to the gravity of the conversation that had just transpired. with his coffee in hand and a newfound determination, he prepared himself for the day. the sight of the alcohol-strewn room and the hungover state of his friend were now just background noise, eclipsed by the seriousness of the mission ahead. the challenge posed by you—an enigmatic and dangerous opponent—was about to become the focal point of his day, a test of his skills and resolve that would push him to his limits.

you entered the coffee shop, the soft hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping you in a warm embrace. the morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a serene glow over the rustic wooden tables and mismatched chairs. as you walked to the counter, your mind buzzed with tactical considerations, strategizing the most effective approach to handling the formidable kim namjoon. the complexities of the task at hand melded with your thoughts, each possibility and scenario swirling in your head like the delicate patterns in your latte.

you placed your order with a casual ease, the barista’s polite nods and friendly banter barely registering as you were lost in contemplation. when you finally settled into a corner booth, the quiet rustle of newspapers and the clinking of cups provided a backdrop to your musings. men around the café couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, their eyes lingering with a mix of admiration and intrigue. you were accustomed to such attention, a mere side effect of the aura you carried, but it never failed to draw your awareness.

as you were absorbed in your thoughts, a voice interrupted the solitude of your reflection. “must be tiring, isn’t it? getting looks like that all the time?” the voice was warm and smooth, laced with a hint of curiosity. you turned your head to find a man standing by your table, a friendly smile playing on his lips. he had an air of casual confidence, his demeanor effortless and disarming. you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to effortlessly attract the gaze of those around him, much like you did. offering him a measured smile, you replied, “it seems like you’re no stranger to stares yourself,” gesturing toward the group of women who were openly admiring him from across the room.

he laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and charming. “true enough,” he said with a shrug. “but it’s something i’ve chosen to ignore.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “would you like to join me? it looks like most of the other seats are taken.” without hesitation, he accepted your offer and slid into the seat across from you. As he settled in, he extended his hand with a graceful flourish.

“i’m kim namjoon,” he introduced himself, his voice steady and inviting. a chill ran down your spine as the name registered, a shockwave of realization coursing through you. was it fate? you fought to maintain your composure, your face draining of color as you processed the situation. with a controlled breath, you extended your own hand and offered a smile. “i’m (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, namjoon.”

his eyes widened imperceptibly, a moment of surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a practiced ease. you were even more striking than he had imagined from the stories he had heard—an ethereal beauty that exceeded every expectation. his heart sank slightly, a sinking feeling that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

the two of you engaged in conversation, each of you carefully concealing your underlying tension. namjoon asked about your work, his curiosity piqued. you swallowed your nerves and fabricated a story, telling him that you worked in finance. his gaze remained steady, though the mention of your profession triggered an internal churn in his stomach. he responded with a lie of his own, claiming to work in business management—an elaborate deception. as the conversation flowed, punctuated by casual laughter and probing questions, you felt the delicate balance of this encounter shift. the façade of casual coffee talk masked the underlying intensity of your real interactions. with every exchange, you assessed his reactions, every nuance of his demeanor scrutinized as you navigated this unexpected encounter.

when the time felt right, you reached into your bag and pulled out a slip of paper, extending it toward him with a nonchalant air. “here’s my number. it would be nice to continue our conversation sometime.” he accepted the slip with a genuine smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of intrigue and admiration. “i’d like that,” he said warmly, his tone sincere. “i’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

with that, you gathered your things, the weight of the morning’s revelations settling heavily on your shoulders. as you stood and made your way to the door, his gaze followed you, a lingering reminder of the complex web you had just woven. the encounter had been more than mere chance; it was a delicate dance of deception and allure, setting the stage for the intricate game that lay ahead. the bell above the café door chimed softly as you exited, leaving behind the warm, inviting space and the enigmatic man who would soon become central to your plans. the city outside bustled with its usual rhythm, but within you, a storm of anticipation and calculation brewed, your path now irrevocably entwined with his.

you paced your room with a measured intensity, the rhythmic scuff of your heels against the floor mirroring the churn of your thoughts. the walls seemed to close in, laden with the weight of strategy and anticipation. every corner of the room held a potential plan, a calculated move in the intricate game you and namjoon were unwittingly playing. the persistent buzz of your phone interrupted your brooding. you glanced at the screen, recognizing namjoon’s name. with a composed breath, you answered. “hello?”

“hey, (y/n),” his voice came through with a casual warmth. “i was wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing lunch sometime today. or am i already being too clingy?” you couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that was as light as it was genuine. “i’d love to have lunch with you, namjoon. where do you want to go?”

he suggested a charming bistro not far from where you were staying, a place known for its elegant ambiance and exquisite cuisine. you agreed, and after hanging up, you turned your attention to your wardrobe. selecting a dress that clung to your curves with just the right balance of elegance and allure, you prepared to meet your unexpected lunch companion.

arriving at the bistro, you found him already seated at a table near the window, his gaze scanning the room with an anticipation that matched your own. when he saw you, his eyes widened slightly, a clear reaction to your striking appearance. the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile that softened the usual sharpness of his features.

“wow,” he said as you approached, his voice tinged with admiration. “you look amazing.” you smiled, feeling a warm flush of pleasure. “thanks. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

you both settled into the cozy booth, the soft light of the bistro casting a flattering glow on both of you. the menu was soon presented, and you made a decision almost automatically. “should we start with a bottle of wine?” you suggested, the words flowing with casual ease. his demeanor shifted subtly, a fleeting shadow crossing his face as he flinched slightly at your choice. “actually,” he began, hesitating for a moment, “i’m not really fond of alcohol.”

your curiosity was piqued. “oh? why’s that?” he leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “my father was an alcoholic. it left a pretty negative impression on me. i avoid it whenever i can.”

you noted the pained edge in his voice, your own heart twisting in sympathy. “i’m sorry to hear that. let me get us a coffee instead. we can still enjoy a great meal without the wine.” namjoon’s smile brightened with genuine appreciation. “that sounds perfect. thank you.” you signaled the waiter and changed the order, opting for coffee instead. namjoon’s gratitude was evident in his appreciative nod, his eyes softening as he watched you.

the conversation flowed naturally, a gentle exchange about his father and the memories that lingered. “he was involved in some dangerous dealings,” he recounted. “the debts caught up with him, and eventually, it cost him his life. it’s a part of my past that’s hard to shake off.” you reached out, placing a comforting hand over his. “i’m truly sorry for your loss, namjoon. it must have been incredibly difficult.”

his gaze met yours, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability shining through. “thank you. it’s been a challenge, but i’ve managed to move forward. meeting someone like you today has been a nice distraction.” as the food arrived, he leaned forward to serve himself. in a moment of unanticipated clumsiness, his glass of water tipped precariously on the edge of the table. instinctively, you reached out with practiced precision, catching the glass before it could hit the floor. it fell into your grip with barely a sound.

his eyes widened as he watched the maneuver, a dawning realization of your skill and preparedness clear in his gaze. “you’re pretty adept at handling situations,” he commented, a note of surprise in his voice. you shrugged lightly, attempting to downplay the incident. “just a little bit of practice. nothing to worry about.”

with a playful smile, you encouraged him to continue enjoying the meal. as the conversation resumed, the initial tension between you seemed to ease, replaced by a genuine connection forged over shared stories and experiences. the food was delightful, and the time spent together was as pleasant as it was unexpected. both of you indulged in the meal, savoring each bite and drink as if it were a reprieve from the unspoken truths hovering just beneath the surface. the lunch was more than a simple meeting—it was an intricate dance of charm and deception, a prelude to the complexities that lay ahead.

as you and namjoon strolled back toward your place, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the natural rhythm of it making the day feel almost ordinary. the world seemed to hum in harmony, your laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the city, creating a brief respite from the tension that lurked beneath the surface.

however, as you approached a lamppost with a memorial photo attached, you felt a sudden jolt. the image on the pole was unmistakable—the face of the man you had eliminated the previous night. his eyes seemed to stare out from the photograph with a haunting, silent plea, and you shuddered involuntarily. namjoon, noticing your abrupt halt and the sudden pallor of your face, turned with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

you swallowed hard, struggling to compose yourself. “i knew him,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “he was a friend.” his expression softened with empathy. “i'm sorry. that must be really tough.”

you offered him a shaky smile, appreciating his kindness. “thank you.” the two of you continued walking in contemplative silence until you reached your house. you turned to face namjoon, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. it was a simple gesture, free from any ulterior motives, and as you held him close, you felt a fleeting connection that seemed both comforting and poignant.

his smile broadened as he returned the hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. “good night, (y/n),” he said softly. “i’ll see you soon.”

“good night, namjoon,” you replied, pulling away and watching him walk down the street with a bittersweet feeling.

as he made his way home, the streets began to fade into the distance, and he took out his phone. the sense of unease that had been bubbling beneath the surface now surfaced with a jolt. with a few swift taps, he brought up the details of the deceased man’s profile. his eyes widened in shock as he read the police report—the victim had been strangled to death with rope, and the case was eerily devoid of leads or footage.

his mind raced, the chilling realization of the situation dawning upon him. the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with unnerving clarity. he had just spent the afternoon with the very person who had carried out such a methodical and lethal act. the connection between you and the man on the pole was a stark revelation, and the weight of the truth settled heavily upon him. he shuddered, his thoughts spinning as he grappled with the realization of who you truly were—and what he now had to confront. the night seemed to grow darker and more foreboding as he walked, each step echoing the grim understanding that had just settled into his gut.

the next evening, you found yourself once again in the opulent embrace of the hotel. the grand ballroom, resplendent with its glimmering chandeliers and elaborate decor, was a far cry from the grim memories it held for you. the place where you had claimed your previous victim now seemed almost serene, its beauty contrasting starkly with the dark deeds that had unfolded within its walls. with practiced ease, you adjusted the earpiece nestled in your ear and connected with your boss. the cool, metallic voice of your superior resonated through the small device, crisp and unwavering.

“(y/n), are you in position?” the voice inquired. “yes,” you replied, your tone steady. “i'm monitoring the cctv feeds now. the hallways are clear, and namjoon should be arriving soon.”

“good. remember, we need to ensure the task is completed efficiently. keep your wits about you and stay focused.”

“understood,” you said, disconnecting the call and turning your attention back to the array of monitors before you. the security cameras provided a meticulous view of the hotel's layout, allowing you to track every movement with precision. your gaze was fixed on the entrance, waiting for namjoon’s arrival. when he finally appeared, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his striking features, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation. he moved with a confident grace that only added to his allure, and you watched as he navigated through the crowd.

as soon as he entered the room, you swiftly disconnected from the monitoring feed, leaving the cameras to their own devices. you made your way through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, your heart beating with an unusual mixture of excitement and trepidation. “namjoon!” you called out, your smile warm as you approached him. he turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “hey, you look absolutely stunning.”

“thank you,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “should we head to the bar? i thought we might enjoy a drink.” the two of you made your way to the bar, the conversation flowing as naturally as it had the day before. you refrained from drinking, choosing instead to sip on sparkling water, a choice that did not go unnoticed by him. he observed you with a blend of admiration and curiosity.

“why no drinks tonight?” he asked, leaning closer to you, his voice a soft murmur. you met his gaze with a calm smile. “just a personal preference. i don't wanna drink in front of you.”

his heart swelled at your sincerity. “that’s admirable. i wish i had your self-control.”

after some time spent in pleasant conversation and gentle flirtation, you glanced at him with a knowing look. “if the noise gets too overwhelming, i’ve rented out a room here. we can escape the crowd if you’d like.” he seemed intrigued and a bit relieved. “that sounds like a great idea. lead the way.”

you guided him through the bustling crowd, the stares of other guests momentarily ignored as you made your way to the reserved room. the door closed behind you with a soft click, and an almost palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. the room, dimly lit and serene, was a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the gala. as you stood there, his gaze was filled with a mix of awe and longing. without a word, he closed the distance between you, his eyes locked onto yours with a intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in slowly, and you felt his lips brush against yours in a tentative, electrifying kiss.

you responded with equal fervor, your lips meeting his with a growing urgency. the kiss deepened, turning heated and passionate as the world outside seemed to fade away. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved with a fervent intensity. your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him as the kiss became a fervent dance of desire and need.

his hands traveled to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you to the bed. you landed softly on the plush surface, your body arching slightly as namjoon followed, his lips never leaving yours. the bed beneath you was a luxurious expanse, and the sensation of his body pressing against yours was intoxicating.

his kisses trailed from your lips to your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he explored your skin. you moaned softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of fabric as he undressed you with a careful urgency. his touches were both tender and possessive, his desire evident in every caress. “you feel incredible,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “show me,” you breathed, your hands pulling him closer as the night unfolded in a passionate dance of exploration and desire. the world outside became a distant memory as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, the intensity of your connection making every touch, every kiss, a thrilling and unforgettable experience.

his fingers traced the contours of your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. his eyes, dark with lust, took in the sight of you laid bare before him. “so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. you felt a rush of heat pool in your belly at his words, and you reached for him, eager to return the favor. your hands found the hem of his shirt, and with a quick tug, you pulled it over his head, revealing the firm planes of his chest.

his skin was warm and smooth under your fingertips, and you took a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles and the faint scent of his cologne that lingered. your eyes traveled down to the waistband of his pants, and a devilish smile played on your lips. you bit your bottom lip, and with a seductive glance, began to unbuckle his belt. namjoon watched you, his pupils dilated with anticipation.

once his pants were discarded, you took in the full view of him, your eyes widening with desire. he was already hard, his arousal clear and prominent. you reached out, your hand lightly brushing against his length, and he hissed through gritted teeth. you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. “fuck, you’re so big,” you said, a hint of wonder in your voice.

his hips rolled into your touch, and he groaned, his head falling back. “yeah, baby, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and strained. you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin, hot and velvety under your palm. “you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. your heart raced as you felt the power of his desire in your grasp. “i want you so badly,” you admitted, your voice a breathy whisper.

his hand reached down to cup your cheek, pulling you back up for a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in your veins. you could feel his urgency, the need to claim you, to make you his in every way possible. your hand didn’t stop moving, but instead picked up the pace, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. “i need to be inside you,” he growled, his control slipping.

his words sent a bolt of excitement through you, and you nodded eagerly. he reached for a condom from the bedside drawer, and you watched as he rolled it on with a practiced ease. the anticipation was palpable as he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. you took a deep breath, ready for the delicious stretch as he pushed inside you.

his first thrust was slow and deliberate, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck, yes,” you moaned, your back arching to meet him. he began to move, his rhythm steady and deep, his eyes never leaving yours. with each stroke, the pleasure built, your body responding to him in a symphony of sensation.

you matched his pace, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans of pleasure. his grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more forceful. “you’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice gruff with need.

you couldn’t help but let out a filthy response, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. “i’ve been waiting for this all night. need you to fuck me hard, namjoon.” your words seemed to push him over the edge, and he obeyed, his hips driving into you with a newfound ferocity. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

his thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he approached climax. you felt your own orgasm building, your muscles clenching around him. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, his voice tight. you nodded, your eyes locked on his, and together, you fell over the edge, your bodies writhing in a delicious crescendo of pleasure. his release came, moans rolling off his tongue, and you felt yourself shatter around him, the intensity of your climax stealing your breath. for a moment, you were lost in the feeling, your bodies joined as one. as the waves of pleasure receded, he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

when dawn’s first light filtered through the thin curtains, you awoke to the disorienting haze of reality. the hotel room, now bathed in soft morning light, seemed almost serene compared to the passionate chaos of the night before. you lay on the bed beside namjoon, his body sprawled in a relaxed, innocent slumber, entirely unaware of the dangerous path that had led to this moment.

the memories of last night crashed over you like a tumultuous wave. the intimate connection you had shared with him, the unexpected depth of your feelings, and the chaotic rush of desire—all of it felt like a vivid, intoxicating dream. but reality was a stark contrast. you had a mission, a job to complete, and the time for pleasure had long since passed. as you slowly and carefully disentangled yourself from his warm embrace, you glanced at him. he was completely vulnerable, his handsome face serene and peaceful, the picture of tranquility. it was then that you remembered the task that had been set before you: to eliminate him. you had let your guard down, and it could cost you dearly.

your hand instinctively reached under the pillow where you had left it the night before. your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. the sensation sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. your breath caught in your throat as you realized what you were holding—a gun. It was not your own; it was an unfamiliar weight that felt both foreign and foreboding. you pulled the gun from beneath the pillow, its cold metal a harsh reminder of the deadly precision required of your role. for a moment, your hand trembled around the grip. the thought of ending his life right then and there, of completing the mission with ruthless efficiency, was overpowering. his calm breathing, so close to you, only added to the intensity of the moment.

you aimed the gun at him, pressing it into his haie, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him. every instinct told you to pull the trigger, to end it all quickly and cleanly. but as you tightened your grip, the weight of the decision pressed down on you with crushing force. anger and frustration surged within you. it was supposed to be a straightforward task, a mere job to be done. yet here you were, paralyzed by your own conflicted emotions.

the gun felt heavy in your hand, the responsibility of the act you were about to commit weighing down on you. you cursed under your breath, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to echo your inner turmoil. your eyes burned with unshed tears as you fought with the impulse to follow through with the assassination. the gun trembled in your grasp, your resolve wavering as the reality of what you were about to do loomed large.

in a fit of anger and desperation, you hastily shoved the gun back under the pillow, as though trying to hide the physical manifestation of your internal struggle. you shoved on your dress with frantic movements, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as if it were a shield against the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. without another glance at him, you fled the room. the hallway outside seemed unnervingly quiet, each step echoing with the weight of your decision. your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as you made your way through the hotel, each step driven by the desperate need to escape the oppressive weight of your failure. the mission had become a tangle of conflicting desires and stark reality, and you were left with the knowledge that you had to confront both, no matter how painful it might be.

the morning had settled into a quiet, contemplative silence as you sank into your armchair, the soothing warmth of the wine mingling with the turmoil in your mind. the shower had washed away the remnants of the night, but it did little to cleanse the confusion and guilt swirling within you. your hair was pinned up, an effort to restore some semblance of order to the chaos you felt inside. the half-empty wine bottle on the table served as a silent testament to your attempts at solace.

as you took another sip, the doorbell’s chime shattered the solitude. your heart skipped a beat. the sound seemed to carry an unspoken promise of complication. you set your glass aside and padded to the door, bracing yourself for whatever awaited you on the other side.

opening the door revealed namjoon, his presence as strikingly composed as ever. his soft smile greeted you, its warmth contrasting sharply with the chill of your internal disarray. “i hope i’m not intruding,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle. you blinked, momentarily lost for words. “not at all,” you managed, stepping aside to let him in. as he crossed the threshold, his gaze fell upon the nearly empty wine bottle, its presence seeming to draw an involuntary frown from his lips.

“do you drink this often?” he inquired, a note of concern edging his tone. you offered a wan smile, trying to mask the discomfort brewing beneath the surface. “i drink as often as i can,” you admitted, trying to sound casual despite the tumult within you.

his eyes softened as he looked at you. “how about we lighten the mood a bit? any plans for today?” relief washed over you at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the wine. “actually, no plans at all,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope. “would you like some breakfast? i could use the company.”

his smile broadened, and he agreed readily. “i’d love that.” you led him to the kitchen, your heart racing with an unsettling mix of anxiety and anticipation. as you prepared breakfast, the knife felt heavier than usual in your hand. each slice through the vegetables seemed to echo with the weight of your thoughts. you clenched the knife tightly, struggling to maintain composure, but namjoon’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“are you uncomfortable with what happened last night?” his question was gentle, but it carried an undertone of concern that only deepened your internal conflict. you tensed momentarily, the knife’s grip tightening in your hand. “no, not at all,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “what about you?”

his smile was reassuring, but it did little to ease the knot in your stomach. “i enjoyed it quite a bit,” he admitted, his eyes holding a glint of sincerity. his compliment, however genuine, did little to dissolve the worry gnawing at you. you could feel his gaze on you as you worked, his presence a constant reminder of the dangerous duality of your situation. yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but appreciate his genuine demeanor.

as you plated the food, you made a conscious effort to push the wine bottle out of sight, its dark contents now a symbol of a past you wanted to distance yourself from. the wine in your glass met the sink’s drain, a small but significant act of cleansing. namjoon’s eyes widened slightly at the gesture, and he offered a look of quiet gratitude.

the breakfast was pleasant, if a bit tense. as you neared the end of the meal, an idea took shape. “would you be interested in going to the local fair with me?” you asked, trying to offer a distraction from the lingering unease. namjoon’s face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. “that sounds like a great idea. i’d love to.”

as you finished clearing the table, the simple, shared activity brought a momentary respite from the tangled web of your thoughts. the fair, with its bright lights and cheerful bustle, seemed like a perfect escape—a chance to savor normalcy amidst the chaos. little did you know, the fair would bring its own set of revelations and challenges, testing the fragile truce you had established with yourself and with namjoon.

the fair was alive with vibrant hues and lively sounds, a kaleidoscope of lights and music weaving through the crisp evening air. the scent of popcorn and cotton candy mingled with the excitement of the crowd, creating a sensory tapestry that seemed to momentarily lift the weight from your shoulders. namjoon’s presence beside you was both comforting and disconcerting, a constant reminder of the complexity of your situation.

as you strolled past the myriad of stalls and attractions, his enthusiasm was infectious. his laughter rang out, mingling with the ambient noise of the fair, as he pointed out various games and food stands. “you have to try that one,” he said, gesturing toward a colorful stall where a shooting game was set up. curiosity piqued, you followed him to the stand. The game was simple: shoot a gun at moving targets to win a prize. the booth was adorned with bright lights and plush toys, each one more garish than the last. the carnival worker handed namjoon a toy gun with a grin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he took it with casual confidence.

his demeanor was relaxed, his face lit up with a childlike excitement as he aimed at the targets. the way his fingers wrapped around the gun was almost graceful, and you could see the focus in his eyes as he lined up each shot. goosebumps pricked your skin, an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the moment. the steady click of the gun punctuated the otherwise joyous cacophony of the fair. each shot he took was precise, hitting the center of the targets with unerring accuracy. his movements were fluid and practiced, a testament to his skill and composure. as he finished, he set the gun down with a satisfied nod, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“you’re really good at that,” you commented, trying to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. his smile widened, and he reached over to collect his prize—a large, plush stuffed toy, its bright colors and oversized eyes almost comical. he turned to you, his expression a mix of pride and affection. “here,” he said, extending the toy toward you with a charming grin. “i think this is for you.”

your fingers brushed against his as you took the stuffed toy, and you could feel the warmth of his touch linger on your skin. the toy was soft and absurdly large, its beady eyes staring up at you with an innocent expression. despite the cheerful facade, you couldn’t shake the cold, creeping sensation that the toy represented something far more ominous.

you accepted it with a smile, but your mind was racing. the stuffed toy felt like a symbol, a reminder of the precarious balance between your roles as predator and prey. you stared at the toy, its bright, plush exterior now a stark contrast to the dark reality that lurked beneath the surface. his gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. “i thought it might make you smile,” he said, his voice tender. “do you like it?”

you forced a smile, nodding as you clutched the toy a little too tightly. “it’s very thoughtful,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. the toy seemed to loom larger in your hands, a reminder of the mission that still awaited you. you had promised yourself that you would finish what you had started, but in that moment, amidst the lights and laughter of the fair, you found it increasingly difficult to reconcile your feelings.

his expression remained hopeful, his gaze never wavering. “let’s walk around a bit more,” he suggested, seemingly oblivious to the internal battle raging within you. you nodded, trying to push your worries aside and focus on the present. as you continued to wander through the fair, the toy felt like a weight around your neck, a reminder of the danger and deception that hovered just beneath the surface of your seemingly normal day. the fair was a fleeting escape, a chance to revel in the illusion of normalcy, but the shadows of your true mission loomed ever closer, threatening to shatter the fragile peace you had managed to cultivate.

the two of you eventually found a bench situated beneath a canopy of fairy lights, their gentle glow casting a warm aura over the space. the bench offered a moment of respite from the sensory overload of the fair, and you both settled down, the lively sounds of the carnival muted by the small oasis of tranquility.

as you sat side by side, you watched the children running around with boundless energy, their laughter mingling with the distant music of the fair. the sight brought a soft smile to your lips, a fleeting sense of nostalgia for something you had longed for but never quite had. “i’ve always wanted to be a mother,” you admitted, your voice almost wistful as you watched the joyous chaos before you. “seeing these kids, it just makes me realize how much i’ve dreamed about it.”

namjoon turned his gaze from the playful scene to you, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth. “i can’t imagine you not being a wonderful mother,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “you have such a kind heart. i’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

the compliment warmed you more than you expected, and you glanced at him with a tender smile. “thank you. that means a lot coming from you. what about you? have you ever thought about being a father?” namjoon’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow of something deeper flickering across his features. he took a deep breath before responding. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. i always wanted to be a dad someday. i just don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

you could sense the weight of his words, the way they tugged at his heart. “you’re nothing like him,” you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. “i’ve seen how you are with people, how you handle things. you’re kind, thoughtful. you’re not defined by your father’s mistakes.”

a pang of vulnerability flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked lost in thought. he managed a small, grateful smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “it’s hard not to feel like i’m stuck in his shadow sometimes,” he admitted. “but hearing you say that—it helps.” the sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “you’re creating your own path, namjoon. you have your own values and your own way of being. don’t let his past define your future.”

his smile widened slightly, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “thank you. i guess i needed to hear that.” you both sat there for a moment, the carnival’s vibrant activity humming softly in the background. the connection between you felt genuine and poignant, the weight of your respective burdens momentarily lifted by shared understanding.

as the evening drew on and the lights of the fair glimmered around you, the conversation deepened, weaving a tapestry of hope and reflection amidst the backdrop of the carnival. the simple joys of the fair seemed to highlight the more profound truths you both were navigating, bringing a sense of clarity and closeness that neither of you had anticipated.

the evening had passed in a tranquil haze, and as you finally arrived home, the comforting stillness of your home seemed to envelop you. the echoes of laughter and joy from the fair faded behind you, leaving only the soft hum of your own thoughts.

you were in the midst of unwinding, removing your shoes and loosening your coat, when the sharp ring of your phone broke the serene quiet. the caller id displayed your boss's name, and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. you answered, the line crackling with the unmistakable edge of frustration. “where have you been?” her voice cut through the air like a blade, its harshness bringing you back to the present with a jolt. “you were supposed to be focused. the mission isn't over. it’s crucial that you finish it.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the surge of guilt and urgency her words stirred. “i understand. i was preoccupied, but i’ll get back on track immediately.” the silence on the other end was brief but heavy, her displeasure palpable. “you have a job to do. this is not a game. you’re dealing with someone who’s as dangerous as they come. i need results, not distractions.”

with a firm sigh, you replied, “i’ll get it done. i promise.” the call ended abruptly, leaving you with a lingering sense of urgency. your gaze drifted to the drawer where you had carefully stored your weapon. with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, you walked over and pulled it open. your fingers closed around the cold, metal grip of the pistol, its weight a stark reminder of the gravity of your task.

you took a moment to steady your breathing, the echoes of the evening’s warmth fading into the background. the contrast between the peaceful day and the chilling reality of your mission was stark. As you clicked the safety off and checked the chamber, a steely determination took hold. tonight, you promised yourself, the job would be done. the warmth of your recent encounters would be set aside, replaced by the icy focus necessary to carry out your orders. the boundaries between personal and professional were blurred, but you had to navigate the dangerous dance with precision.

the night air was crisp and sharp as you approached his house, the weight of the pistol heavy in your hand. each step felt deliberate, every breath a careful measure against the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the street was quiet, shadows playing tricks in the moonlight as you neared the front door, which stood ajar. your heart raced as a chill of apprehension ran down your spine.

you hesitated, the open door a harbinger of foreboding. had he anticipated your arrival, or was something else afoot? the usual calm of his home felt eerie in its silence. you stepped inside, the creak of the floorboards loud in the stillness. you moved with practiced stealth, checking each room with growing trepidation. the soft murmurs you heard drew you upstairs, the sounds of struggle and muffled voices leading you to his bedroom.

the door was slightly open, and you pushed it gently, your pulse quickening. the sight that greeted you was one you hadn’t anticipated. the room was a disarray of empty beer cans, a stark contrast to the polished image you had seen earlier. namjoon was pinned against the wall, his roommate's hands wrapped around his throat in a desperate, violent struggle. the scene was raw, the tension palpable.

for a moment, you were frozen, shock and horror warring within you. but the urgency of the situation jolted you into action. with a swift, practiced movement, you pulled the pistol from your holster. the shot rang out, a sharp crack that cut through the chaos. the roommate crumpled to the floor, his body going limp as a bullet found its mark in his head. namjoon fell to his knees, gasping for breath, tears streaking down his face.

you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. “namjoon, are you okay? What happened?” your voice trembled with a mixture of fear and concern as you pulled him into your arms. hee clung to you, his sobs muffled against your shoulder. “he was an assassin,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “a part of a rival group. he came after me—and i couldn’t stop him.” his voice broke, the weight of his words pressing down heavily.

you looked around the room, the sea of empty beer cans now a grim symbol of his internal struggle. “what’s with all the beer cans?” you asked, trying to piece together the fragments of the night’s horror. namjoon swallowed hard, his voice strained. “he drank—a lot. the alcohol, it brought up old memories. bad ones,” he hesitated, a pained expression crossing his face. “i killed my own father, you know. it was me who took his life. the alcohol made him violent, it twisted his mind. i couldn’t stop it.”

the revelation hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling. the man you had come to care for was entangled in a web of violence and guilt. you tried to offer comfort, your own shock mingling with the empathy you felt for him.

“did you know about me? about who i am?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you nodded slowly, unable to meet his gaze. “i did.”

he seemed to digest this, a troubled look crossing his face. “and i knew about you too. i left the gun under the pillow, to see if you would use it. when you didn’t, i knew you wouldn’t kill me.” the admission struck you hard. his confession left you feeling as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. the intricate dance of deceit and truth that had bound you both seemed to unravel in an instant. your heart pounded painfully in your chest as you grappled with the realization.

despite the turmoil inside you, holding him in your arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt strangely precious. the notion of completing your mission seemed to fade in the face of his vulnerability. you tried to fight it, but the connection you felt was undeniable. his presence, despite everything, seemed more valuable than the task at hand.

as you held him close, the night’s darkness seemed to swirl around you, a reminder of the tangled, violent path that had brought you together. in the midst of the chaos, one thing was clear: the boundaries between duty and desire had blurred, leaving you both grappling with the consequences of a night that had irrevocably changed everything.

you held him close, the weight of the night crashing down on you as you tried to steady your racing heart. his tears mingled with yours as the gravity of your shared truths settled around you. his face was flushed, eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and sorrow as he clung to you.

in a moment of aching tenderness, you cupped his face gently, your fingers trembling. you leaned in, pressing a soft, bittersweet kiss to his lips. the kiss was delicate, a fleeting touch that conveyed a world of regret and unspoken emotions. the taste of his lips lingered, a painful reminder of everything that had led to this moment.

tears streamed down your cheeks, the sorrow overwhelming. you pulled back, the anguish in your eyes mirrored in his own. “i’m so sorry, namjoon,” you whispered through your sobs. “i’m so sorry.”

his confusion deepened, the words you spoke only adding to the turmoil. as you stood up, a fresh resolve hardened in your chest. with shaking hands, you pulled the gun from your side, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your tears. you raised it slowly, pressing the barrel to his forehead. his eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as he stared up at you.

but you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. you turned away, the enormity of your actions crashing over you like a relentless wave. your fingers tightened around the trigger, the weight of your decision feeling unbearable. the muffled sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room, reverberating through your very soul. the finality of it struck you hard, and you stumbled backward, feeling as though your heart was being wrenched from your chest.

standing amidst the wreckage of your emotions, you fumbled for your phone. with a final, heavy sigh, you dialed your boss's number, each ring a jarring reminder of the mission that had led to this. the call connected, and your voice was shaky but resolute.

“it’s done,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “the job’s finished.”

✧.*

a/n: this hurt to write omg if yall want a happy ending lmk bc...

[jimxnslight]

Finally Free || PJM

Summary: Kidnapped at a young age, Y/N is forced to work for an organisation that specialises in killing. All is well until she begins to realise her partner, Park Jimin, may be keeping more secrets from her than she realised.

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: Assassin reader, assassin Jimin, enemies (?) to friends to lovers, assassins AU, angst

Word Count: 22.9k

Warnings: Kidnapping, murder/assassination, gun violence, knife violence, physical violence, major character death, mentions of a dead animal, blood, heated making out

“Once upon a time, there was a girl.

She was haughty and smug, plagued with the impression that those around her were inferior in every way possible. Her notion was not without foundation, for she topped her classes again and again, excelled in every activity she’d ever bothered to try, and had every student in the school wishing her to give them the time of day. Teachers lifted her with commendation and boys begged for but a simple chance. 

Her only problem was that she was too good, and she didn’t bother to hide it.

She would revel in the praises of her classmates, flaunting her grades and trophies to no limits. New strangers were not seen as the beginning of a novel relationship, but new opportunities to show off her excellence. Adoration had become her perpetual melody. 

Until one day the turntable turned no more.

The girl brushed her hair softly as she sat in front of her dresser, watching as the silky curls bounced against her nightgown. She was in awe at her porcelain skin and the delicate dip of her nose. Admiration for herself was nothing out of the ordinary, enough to put even a man like Narcissus to shame. But what she didn’t notice that night was the shadow watching her from afar. 

Its gaze fixated through the cool glass of the window with focus and intensity. Had the girl been just a little aware, she might have even caught it, but she was much too immersed in stretching across her bed happily as thoughts of tomorrow’s exam results filled her with glee.

Her ignorance continued as the shadow finally moved, slithering within the darkness until it emerged from the shadows, slowly stepping towards the girl.

That was the last time anyone had ever seen her again. 

Her parents had sworn they had heard a scream erupt from their daughter’s room at the strike of midnight, but upon stumbling into her room, they were only met with an empty bed, a window left wide open, and a message engraved on the alabaster wall dripping in crimson red blood:

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

The next day, gasps reverberated against the walls of the school. Not at the news of the girl’s disappearance, no the parents had not disclosed such information just yet, but at the results board that had been pinned in the hallway. 

The girl that had never gotten below a full mark in her life had just received a zero, her name written boldly at the end of the list of students. 

The day after, the school newspaper’s front page had, for the first time, displayed a headline worthy of turning the students' heads. It had been a three page summary of every sin the girl had ever committed, from cheating on her boyfriend in the eighth grade to bullying her friends into obedience in the tenth.

At the end of the newspaper, was an oddly written sign off.

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

One by one, everything the girl had worked hard for throughout her life had been torn down within a month- her reputation, her achievements, her school rank. Until one day, even the mention of her name was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. 

‘It’s good she’s gone, she got what she deserved.’

‘If she’s really done all that, I hope she’s dead.’

‘She was snobby and arrogant anyway, good riddance.’

Jealousy is such an easy tool to play with, and they indeed played it with ease. But their intentions were not influenced by such an emotion. The pettiness of an action motivated by jealousy was far too low for their standards. They took the girl because they wanted her. They wanted her brain, her body, her soul. And they didn’t need to ask permission from anyone. 

Because they see all.

They know all.

And they control all.

So, what is the moral of the story?”

The room was met with silence. Once upon a time you would rush to fill the quiet void created by the darkness of midnight and your mother’s expectations. Her words would seep into the marrow of your bones and create some of the worst nightmares you could think of.

But now you could only scoff.

“Don’t be a show off,” the words left your lips automatically. You were only half paying attention anyway, the mind of a nine year old tended to do that when being told the same story for what was probably the hundredth time. 

All you wished to do was burrow into the blanket covering your frame and fall into the peace that was a gift of sleep.

Your mother simply hummed. She had asked this question as many times as she had told the story, and your reply was always the same. Even her hum in response was no different from the other times. It was never any indication as to whether the answer satisfied her, only a mere act of acknowledgement. 

But instead of turning off the nightlight of your room and calling it a night like she always did, this time she stayed behind, gaze boring into yours as she watched your tiny figure hugging the pillow on the large bed.

“Is that truly what you believe the moral to be?” She asked unusually.

Your mother has always been ominous in everything she said. You were sure her words always held some kind of double meaning, like she knew things you didn’t and she wanted to make sure you knew it.

“Yes?” You replied, doubt weakening your response. Up until now, you had always believed that your answer had been adequate enough.

Was it not?

Your mother chuckled, another unusual action for her. Tonight seemed to be full of surprises. 

“You will figure it out one day,” she stood, obviously refusing to answer anything in a way that might make sense. 

“Did you lock your window?” She asked, checking the lock anyway.

You nodded your head, another routine question answered flatly.

“Then let your dreams give you comfort,” she said, one of the rare phrases of hers that genuinely brought warmth to your chest.

“Goodnight,” you replied, watching her walk out of the room while gently closing the door behind her. 

Your room was drenched in the night’s darkness, only a sliver of moonlight allowing you to see the outline of the fancy furniture distributed throughout the room. You could hear the screeching caw of a bird outside your window, the tick tocks of the grandfather clock hiding behind your dresser, and the occasional tussle of your bedsheet as you squirmed around. 

You were restless tonight, the words of your mother oddly bothering you awake.

If the moral of the story wasn’t to not show off, then what else could it possibly be? If the girl had not flaunted her achievements, they wouldn’t have known how smart she was and they wouldn’t have taken her. It was a logical answer with a logical explanation.

You huffed as you pushed the blanket off yourself and made your way to the window, eyeing the bright moon as you swam in the ocean that was your thoughts.

Maybe she should have tried to be more likeable? If she had been more genuine towards her friends, they might have liked her enough to search for her after her disappearance. That’s how it was in those movies, wasn’t it? The main character’s friend disappears, the police close the case due to lack of evidence, and then the main character takes it upon themself to search for their friend alone.

Maybe that was what your mother was trying to point towards?

You sighed, not feeling any kind of enlightenment at your ideas. Your small hands found the lock of the window and pulled it open, feeling the light breeze of the fresh air outside. 

Life is not a movie my dear child. Reality is a lot more harsh than what they make it out to be.

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, though you don’t even remember when she’s ever said them. She seemed to have grown a consciousness of her own in your head. You suppose most people would classify that as some kind of mental illness.

You felt yourself lean forward, resting your arms on the windowsill as you closed your eyes and basked in the chill breeze. For a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would feel like to walk outside, to feel soft grass, or hard sidewalk concrete. That was what normal people did, didn’t they? They went on walks and played in parks. But you had never done those things. Maybe that’s why you felt like you were going crazy.

As you opened your eyes, they suddenly flitted across a shadow that you swear you saw on the stone driveway of your house. It had been small, and if it had really existed, then it had also been very quick. You strained your neck forward so that you could get a better look outside of the window. Your driveway was still within your house thanks to a tall iron gate, so no one other than your mother and the maids could be outside and at this hour it was unlikely that any of them would even be up at all.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t realise just how far you had been leaning against the window until you felt your hold on the windowsill slip. Your arms slipped forward, bringing your whole body with you. You only had a second to register the fact that you were going to fall, from a height that could very much kill you. But you didn’t. Your body didn’t slip outside of the window, nor did it hit against the hard stone driveway. Instead, you felt a hand grab your collar from behind, and throw you across your bedroom. Your back collided with the wood of your dressing table, causing pain to flare in your bones. 

That’s when you finally saw him. 

A figure wrapped in black clothes stood before you as he breathed heavily. The only parts of him that were uncovered were his hair and hands, otherwise his face was covered by a black mask. 

You tried to get yourself to your feet, to scream at the sight of his presence, but he was much quicker. His hands were on you in seconds, one pinning you roughly to the floor while the other was held tightly against your lips.

Of course you struggled, but the figure kept you pinned with strength you could not match. You suddenly felt like the girl in the story your mother had just told you about.

Except this was real life. Either you would die here or you would be taken somewhere else.

With an idea forming into your mind, you slowly stopped struggling, letting your limbs fall to your side. The figure must have thought you were giving up because you could feel his grip loosening.

But he was wrong to think you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

In a quick motion, you moved to hit him on the head. But even with the element of surprise on your side he was still quicker. Instead you hand connected with his face, and in a moment of desperation, you grabbed onto the black mask covering his features.

The cloth ripped off of him, causing the two of you to freeze. He looked like a normal boy, maybe a few years older than you, but definitely no older than 12. His cheeks were soft while they were framed by his dishevelled black hair. But his eyes…

Despite their common brown colour, there was a hurricane of emotions hiding behind them. Anger, determination, fear and pain.

So, so much pain. 

The two of you locked gazes for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

Then the boy stood and began dragging you towards your window, which was now wide open. Once you were outside, no one would be able to save you. Your fate would be handed over to this unusual boy.

A sudden panic overtook your mind.

“Wait! Please,” you begged, your hands clawing at his grip on your arm with no success, “I’ll do anything, just please let me go!”

He ignored you, continuing to walk towards his exit with no plans of stopping. 

“Please,” you were crying at this point, “who are you? What do you want from me?”

At those questions, he paused for a moment before slowly turning to face your small figure. His eyes were once again on you, this time regarding your arms, then your clothes, and then lastly your eyes. 

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed the shaky breath that escaped his lips, but you were too busy being terrified over where your future lay now. 

He took a bold step towards you, causing you to back away as much as his grip on your arm would let you.

“Who are we?” He asked, his voice steady. It was the only thing you could focus on without panicking before nodding slowly. 

He took another step towards you, “after today your life will never be the same.”

Another step.

“You’ll either live in fear, shivering in the shadows of darkness.”

One more.

“Or you’ll learn how to hide in them and use them to rise to the top.”

You felt your back bump against a wall, but he didn’t stop until his face was barely a breath away from your own.

“Either way, you’re ours now.

Because we see all, we know all, and we control all.”

15 Years Later

“There’s no way you don’t see it. You’re dumb, but not that dumb.”

Your back leaned against the mahogany bannister in a crouched state as your neck strained to continue focusing on Jimin, who was crouched on the other side of the staircase mulling over your words. He had wisely chosen to ignore the jab you had sent him, opting instead to shift uncomfortably in his place with his position mimicking your own. 

Instead of an actual response, he just scoffed, turning his head to look between the gaps of the bannister rather than your face. Despite it, you could imagine his expression clearly, furrowed eyebrows and a narrow gaze as he waited for your target. 

Fortunately for the two of you, the owner of the mansion you were in had decided to go for an open concept layout, giving the two of you maximum coverage of the whole ground floor from your vantage point at the top of the wooden stairs. That, paired with the isolated nature of his mansion, was just making it too easy. You could do this mission with your eyes closed.

Which made this a perfect opportunity to bring up this topic to Jimin. It was just as much frustrating as it was pleasing how unserious he was about it. 

“I’m just saying,” you began, hoping to get the conversation going once again, “if you guys dated, it would be good for your reputation within the Organisation and you’d be loaded for life.”

You had to push away the rotten feeling in your heart at the mention of Jimin dating someone. It was so pathetic, all these years pining for a man that had probably never looked at you as more than a sister. But you couldn't help it. It was like in those movies you've watched, where the character's heart fluttered at his every touch. Or when he called their name and all their problems seem to wither away. Or just the thought of him brought a smile to their face. 

As embarrassing as it was to admit, that was exactly how you were. It was always fine, because if you had learned one thing from your life, even before who you are now, it was how to hide things. Hiding your emotions had especially become your specialty. 

But things were changing. You were starting to watch him when he spoke for too long, you started longing for his attention a lot more now and not to mention an incident involving falling onto him during a mission where you felt like your heart would explode. You were getting bad at the one thing you thought you were good at. 

And it was starting to hurt. All those years of pining weren't really torture for you, for some reason it was easy to call it nothing more than a crush back then. Knowing you could never have him was simply a fact that you didn't mind. You had his friendship and friendship was all you needed. But now, his presence did things to you, and whatever it was, it was painful. Watching him laugh only reminded you that one day it'll be someone else's and listening to him talk about the future only reminded you that one day he wouldn't be in it. 

Which was why you had to do this. You had to put some kind of boundary between the two of you so that these unwelcome thoughts would leave. So that you could finally go a day without thinking about him or without wishing he was by your side all the time. 

And what better way than to find him a girlfriend?

Jimin’s face turned towards you once again as you adjusted the idle gun in your hands, gaze scanning your expression and then your finger resting comfortably on the trigger. You were used to it. You had been under his constant gaze ever since you were 9 after all. 

Finally he turned away, staring forward in an oddly tired way. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean no? She’s the daughter of our leader. If you two dated, even eventually got married, you’d have her father’s protection and money. You’d be set for life,” you argued, chest fluttering weirdly in the process. 

But Jimin simply shook his head. You watched him for a moment, noticing his tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. He was a man of few words, you’d learned at least that much about him in the years you’d spent as mission partners. When something was on his mind, it took a little pushing to get him to open up. Since it was clear the mission couldn’t be what was bothering him, you guessed it was something else. 

“What is it?” you asked finally, gaze flickering towards the mansion’s front door in case your target showed up, “there’s something on your mind. Come on, tell me.”

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts in the process. Just because he didn’t talk much didn’t mean he was stupid. He was the complete opposite really. Every word that left his mouth was calculated, an immense amount of thought and intention behind every sentence.

Finally, he spoke up.

“Do you really think she likes me?”

The question felt like a hammer to your chest. Any hope you had of fostering a more intimate relationship with the man a metre or two away from you was crushed by the sliver of hope you could hear in his voice. Of course Jimin would want to date her. She was rich, gorgeous, and, most importantly of all, the daughter of the Organisation’s leader. Who wouldn’t?

You pushed down the jealousy threatening to make itself known.

“Yes, I’m very sure she does. So what’s stopping you?”

The digital watch on your wrist suddenly lit up, a coordinate flashing on the little map illustrated in black and white. The target was close, but not close enough to matter right now. 

Jimin’s gaze lifted from his own watch, pausing once again, “even if she did like me, which may not even be the case, her dad would probably put my head on a silver platter before he’ll let her date me.”

“To me it seems like her dad doesn’t really care about what she does,” you thought out loud, “besides, I doubt he’d stop one of the best assassins in the Organisation from being with his daughter. If anything, he’d be glad he doesn’t have to pay for her bodyguard anymore.”

You hated how much you wanted him to refuse. To say that the real reason was because he didn’t like her like that. But his next words crushed your heart once again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll try to talk to her when I get the chance.”

You wanted to ask him whether he’d been secretly pining over her this whole time, but it would have to be in a joking manner so that it looked like it didn’t matter to you and you don’t think you could muster up that kind of energy. You could barely muster the fake smile you sent his way.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to actually say anything because right at that moment, the doors of the mansion burst open and your target stomped into the room. Immediately you and Jimin took your positions, one knee steadying yourselves while your hands steadied the gun aiming towards the target. He hadn’t noticed the two of you yet as he grabbed one of the vases on a coffee table and sent it crashing against the fireplace. 

Though his anger seemed especially exaggerated, it didn’t really matter. Your mission had already been assigned, and nowhere in the outline had it said to figure out why your target was in such a rotten mood. 

So without even a glance at each other, you and Jimin each sent a bullet flying towards the target, one slashing through his right arm, while the other through his right leg. The target stumbled to the ground, flailing around while yelling obscenities that would make a viking proud. 

But no matter how hard he yelled, the only people that could hear him were himself, Jimin and you. 

The two of you dropped from the staircase and nonchalantly made your way to his writhing form on the living room’s carpet. The red of his blood seeped into the red of his carpet, so much so that an untrained eye might not have even been able to spot it. 

“Mr. Kang,” Jimin announced. His voice when he addressed people during missions was low and authoritative, one of the only things that really scared you about him. Sometimes you could even see him leading the Organisation itself with that voice. If he started dating the leader’s daughter, would that eventually become a reality?

He continued, completely unaware of your wild thoughts, “you have betrayed the Organisation with your acts of treason, and for that, you have been sentenced to die.”

The man stared up in horror as he watched you walk up to his broken form and point your polished gun to his head. There was no one that could save him now, this was the end.

As if that realisation dawned on him, he suddenly calmed himself down. The whimpers that had been echoing around the living room ceased and he pulled himself into a somewhat sitting position.

That made you and Jimin look at each other in confusion. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he started, voice strained in pain, “they’ve made you mindless puppets only to be used for their own biddings. And when you finally stop benefiting them, they’ll throw you away the same way they’re throwing me away.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “you’re being thrown away because you’re a traitor.”

“How can I be a traitor when they betrayed me first? They promised me they’d keep him safe as long as I did their dirty work, but my years of service were rewarded with what? My own hands dirty with his blood.”

You looked over at Jimin to share your confusion but were surprised to see his shoulders tensed. He was looking at the man on the floor with an unreadable expression, but you could have sworn you caught some fear in his eyes. 

The man’s eyes widened as he seemed to catch onto Jimin’s expression too, “he knows, doesn’t he?!”

He crawled forward and grabbed Jimin’s hand, but Jimin surprisingly didn’t move, “you know what is to come! Let me go! Rebel! Run away! Do not serve them even a second of your ti–”

A loud bang suddenly reverberated across the living room, putting an end to the man’s rambling. There was a shocked expression on his face as blood dripped from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. In a matter of seconds, his body was slumped against the living room’s carpet and silence ensued. 

Jimin slowly put his gun back into his holster and started drenching the place in gasoline. But you stood, completely confused by the last 5 minutes. 

“What was that?” You finally asked, watching him drown the body in gas.

But Jimin remained silent as he continued quickly.

“He said something about they betraying him first… I’m assuming ‘they’ are the Organisation, but whose blood did he have on his hands? And why did he say you knew something?”

Jimin threw the empty tank of gasoline to the corner of the room and brought out a lighter, flicking it so that a small fire burst from the metal opening. He threw it to the ground, watching as the fire spread throughout the room. 

The two of you made it out of the mansion, watching as it crumbled to the ground in a mixture of fire and smoke. And yet after all that, he didn’t utter a word. It made you a little frustrated.

“Jimin, I’m asking you somethin–”

“It’s nothing,” He interrupted. His voice hadn’t even been loud, but there was a firmness in it that silenced you immediately, “ I don’t know what he was talking about when he said I knew something. I don’t know whose blood is on his hands and why it’s so important. He was likely just speaking nonsense.”

Both his gaze and voice was firm as he said his next words.

“But we have nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

It took you about a week after the whole incident to forget that man and his weird words, as well as Jimin and his even weirder behaviour. But your uneasiness didn’t leave that easily. You couldn’t quite forget the tenseness of Jimin’s shoulders and the fear you had picked up on in his expression for just a millisecond of a moment. 

‘He knows, doesn’t he?!’

Was Jimin really hiding something from you? It was hard to believe considering how close the two of you were growing up. Yes, Jimin was a quiet and relatively private person, but you’ve always thought that you knew him better than others. 

Had you been wrong?

And you couldn’t even begin to decipher the rest of the things the man had said. He was clearly against the Organisation because… they betrayed him? But how could the Organisation owe him anything? The Organisation owes nothing to anyone. Not to people like you. Not to the world.

‘You know what is to come!’

Was something coming that the Organisation wasn’t aware about? Or was the Organisation planning something that you all, within the lower ranks of the Organisation, didn't know was coming?

You groaned, sending three bullets through the centres of the holographic targets in front of you. So much for forgetting that incident. 

And to your disappointment, Jimin hadn’t said a word about it at all since that day. Instead he continued to be his usual quiet self, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Though, you couldn’t help but notice his shoulders tense once or twice in your presence, like he was expecting you to say something. But ultimately, you knew that if he didn’t reveal anything that day, he wouldn’t reveal anything through begging. 

“Ms. Y/N,” a voice behind you called.

You turned around to see a man dressed in a business suit waiting for you at the entrance of the training room. He had sunglasses covering his eyes and a small black wire indicating the presence of an earpiece. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

You didn’t know who that was. 

The man bowed, ignoring your confusion.

“There is a mission briefing in room 314,” he announced, “please come with me.”

He started walking towards said room, but you hesitated. Mission briefings were announced through your earpieces, you’ve never been summoned through a person before. 

“I would advise that you pick up your pace, Ms. Y/N,” his voice came from the hallway, “we wouldn’t want to keep your partner waiting.”

The mention of Jimin had you groaning inwardly. He could very well be lying to lure you into the room and do whatever it was he, or his boss, was intending to do. But what could happen, anyway? This was the Organisation. They saw all, they knew all, and they controlled all. How could this man be doing anything against them in their own building?

So with those thoughts in mind, and also a little worry for Jimin, you started following the man to the room. It didn’t take long, one efficient elevator ride later had you entering a room labelled ‘314’ in no time.

It looked like any other briefing room, except it looked old. There was dust accumulating in its corners, an outdated television perched on the wall and a large desk in the middle of the room with empty chairs surrounding it. 

Your room scan finally revealed Jimin standing near the side, posture rigid and hands behind his back. It was how you all usually stood when talking to someone above you. 

“Please, take your position next to him,” a female voice called. 

You did as you were told before you looked in her direction, which was smart now that you had identified the source of the voice. 

The Leader’s daughter, Han Iseul, stood elegantly at the head of the room, just barely paying attention to the two of you as she sifted through a few documents in front of her. She was dressed in business casual clothes that hugged her skinny figure well while her makeup was sharp and precise. She was trying to be nonchalant, but you could see through her facade as easily as looking through water. When she wasn’t moving, you caught her stealing quick glances at Jimin here and then. 

You hadn’t been lying to Jimin when you said she had a crush on him, and this only confirmed that even more. It took a lot of self control to reel in your jealousy.

“I’ve called you here today to brief you on your new assignment,” she announced finally, placing the documents she had been reviewing before on the table in front of her, “I advise that you listen carefully.”

You’ve never heard of anyone being briefed by the Leader’s daughter before, it’s always been by your superiors who had direct contact with the Leader. They would always contact you through your earpiece, outlining the tasks you had to get done, and leave you and Jimin to do your job. It’s never been this excessive.

You suspected it might have had something to do with her little crush. Some sad attempt at getting closer to Jimin by briefing the two of you on one of your missions. She really must be whipped for him to pull something like this in such a strict organisation.

“The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission,” she continued, eyeing the two of you, “this mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation. The only ones you may mention it to are yourselves and me.”

“The task I am assigning you will require you to guard the transport of a particular cargo. The details of the cargo will not be provided, but it is imperative that this cargo make it to its destination. The transport itself will take about two days, both of which you will be on active duty. We will not risk transport at night, so the cargo will be transported to a secure location on the night between these two days.”

“Any questions?” She finally asked. 

When she didn’t get an answer she nodded, “you will leave in two hours. Please prepare your gear.”

With those words, she left the room, but not before stealing a glance at Jimin one last time. It made you want to throw a chair in her face, but you knew you had no right to.

Once she had fully left, you turned towards Jimin, who had been quiet this whole time.

“Cargo protection? Since when are we, aka assassins, responsible for protecting cargo?” 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been tasked with a mission that does not involve killing someone,” he said, checking his watch for the results of his gear checkup and inventory stock. Jimin’s always been a stickler for the rules. It’s why he’s one of the best assassins in the Organisation. 

“I’ll never understand why we get missions outside of our scope,” you huffed, deciding to check your own inventory. Even though the mission itself sounded stupid, Iseul had made it sound otherwise, so it must have been important. You weren’t dumb enough to be sloppy on a mission like this.

The corners of Jimin’s lips twitched in a slight smile, “I’ve already restocked your inventory and gotten your gear up to date. Just focus on not accidentally shooting the target’s sister again.”

“That was one time!” You huffed, feeling slightly offended, “besides, I doubt we’ll be shooting at anyone in this mission.”

“Lucky for you.”

You punched him in the arm, earning you an amused chuckle. The sound had butterflies swirling in your stomach until a sudden thought struck them all down.

“So… you and Iseul must have waited a while for me,” you began, dreading the answer to your question already, “did you guys talk about anything?”

The room quieted before Jimin answered your question.

“Yes, we talked a bit.”

Your eyes widened and without thinking you blurted out, “wait, seriously?” 

You don’t know why that came as such a big surprise to you, he had agreed with the whole dating thing after all. But Jimin saying something and Jimin actually doing something were two different things. And now that something was actually happening, you couldn’t help but feel even worse than before.

“Nothing too specific,” he said, not giving much detail. But that’s the type of boyfriend you expected him to be, private when it came to his relationships, “just general stuff.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him what ‘general’ meant. Did he mean general small talk? Or general dating stuff? Is that why Iseul was looking at him so much during the briefing? Did she realise that she finally had a chance with him? Or did Jimin already confess that he was willing to start a relationship with her? Were they already a couple?

You felt your throat start to close and tears prick the back of your eyes. 

Silly girl. Didn’t I tell you boys were not worth the time of day?

It’s been a while since your mother’s voice has made an appearance in your head. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve even thought about her at all. She was a distant memory. You could barely even remember her face. But her words have never left your mind, and right now was proof of that.

“Y/N?” 

You looked up at Jimin, who was looking at you with a concerned expression. He must have been elated, knowing he would eventually become the husband of the Leader’s daughter. And here you were, a pathetic girl with a pathetic school girl crush. 

“I’m going to go double check my gear,” you managed to get out before making your way out of the room. 

You just hoped your voice didn’t betray how vulnerable your heart was. 

The breeze lashed at your hands and shoulders as you sped on your motorcycle at the first sign of dusk. In front of you stretched an empty highway owned specifically by the Organisation, while on your left was the truck carrying the cargo you had been tasked to protect. Outside of your view you knew Jimin, who was speeding on a motorcycle similar to yours, was likely on the other side of the truck. 

The two of you had been on the road for hours, silently taking in the scenery that zoomed by you. Missions usually weren’t like this. Usually, you’d be raving about the storyline of the new movie or television show you were watching recently while Jimin tried to understand with an amused expression.

But tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to say much of anything. Iseul and Jimin’s relationship had only just started, and you already felt like a truck had run you over. You couldn’t imagine how it would be when they started getting more serious.

You shook your head in frustration, trying to get the thoughts out of your mind. Since when did you become that girl that was head over heels over a man? Why was it so hard for you to let him go?

“To your right,” you heard Jimin’s voice through your earpiece. For a second you thought he was alerting you of an attack, but when you looked to your right, you watched a bunch of horses running across an empty field together. It was enough to bring a smile to your face, watching them gallop freely. 

What must it feel like to be free?

“The holding facility is just a few metres ahead,” the voice of the cargo’s driver spoke from your earpiece, “once the cargo is safely transported there, the two of you can go on break until morning.”

You could hear Jimin’s voice agree along with yours as all three vehicles turned towards the highway’s exit. The more you all continued forward, the thicker the trees beside the road started to get until you and Jimin were forced to ride behind the truck. 

A few more metres later, a large facility appeared within the thicket of the forest, hidden well to anyone that wasn’t looking for it. Either way, a large metal gate stood between you three and the facility, ensuring no one could get inside unless they had clearance. 

All three vehicles came to a stop in front of the gate simultaneously. 

“I’ll send the message to headquarters that we’ve made it so that they unlock the gate and then I have to manually open it, so wait here and guard the cargo until I get back,” the truck’s driver said. You could feel his end of the line go silent as the truck’s door closed and he started making his way to a control panel that was likely out of sight. 

That left you and Jimin standing awkwardly next to each other as you waited for the driver to come back. You don’t think the two of you have ever been this uncomfortable with each other. 

Jimin seemed especially conflicted as his eyes flickered to your form every few seconds. Sometimes he’d open his mouth to say something, only to close it once again. 

It was literal torture, and after a few minutes, you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You scanned the now dark area, desperate to do something other than marinate in the awkwardness. The trees surrounding you were endless and the sky exhibited a few interesting stars, but it was when you looked in front of you that you got an idea. 

“Let’s look inside,” you said suddenly, pointing towards the cargo.

Jimin, who initially seemed surprised by the fact that you spoke to him, processed your words with a horrified face, “what?” 

“Let’s see what’s inside this thing,” you repeated, slapping the giant metal crate, causing Jimin to flinch. You might have laughed at his horrified expression if you weren’t in such a sour mood. 

“Y/N, we can’t do that,” he hissed, reaching towards your arm to pull you away from the truck, but you dodged him easily. 

“We’re literally risking our lives protecting this thing, the least they can do is let us see what’s inside.”

“And what if they catch us?”

You shrugged, already working on the giant latch. Jimin tried to pull you down once again, but with no luck. 

“I mean it Y/N,” he said more firmly, “they could kill us.”

“Relax, I’ll take full blame for it if we do,” you replied, finally getting the latch off. 

“I don’t care about myself, I care about–” 

His voice faltered as the door of the crate finally swung open. It was dark, too dark to accurately make out what exactly was inside. Jimin felt his heart drop as you took a step into the metal box. 

“Y/N–” he tried again, but his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and the crate’s contents could finally be deciphered.

“They’re… weapons?” You said, confusion clearly laced in your tone. 

The crate was stuffed with different kinds of weapons: guns, grenades, daggers, you name it. There had to be at least thousands of them, all neatly stacked so that no space was wasted within the crate. 

“What could they possibly need so many weapons for?” You thought out loud, scanning them all. 

The Organisation was not in need of any more weapons at all, which meant a restock was out of the question. So why were they transporting so many weapons?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy steps against the concrete. 

The driver was back.

You heard Jimin curse under his breath as he gently pushed you towards the crate’s door, “get it closed, I’ll distract him.”

Without another warning, he quickly made his way to the side of the truck, stopping the driver in his tracks with a conversation you couldn’t quite hear. But it didn’t matter as you struggled to get the heavy latch closed. 

“Dude we have to get this done before HQ thinks there’s something up,” you heard the annoyed voice of the driver get louder as he got closer to the back of the truck. 

Your arms tried to force the latch down so that it could lock again, but it wouldn’t budge. Only now were you starting to panic. When you turned to the side, the front of the driver’s shoe peeked from the corner of the crate. One step. Just one step more was all the driver had to take to see your form near an unlocked crate, simultaneously signing your death certificate in the process. 

“Wait!” Jimin suddenly yelled. 

The driver paused, looking back at him with confusion. You could still see his shoes around the corner, but with newfound adrenaline, you finally shoved the latch down, allowing it to lock in place. 

Your shoes just barely touched the ground when the driver turned the corner. He first scanned the crate, then you, and then Jimin, who looked like he had gone through ten different heart attacks in the span of a minute. 

“What the hell is going on here?” He asked, picking up on something odd. 

But you only shrugged, “I was peeing in the bushes and I guess Jimin wanted to save your eyes.”

The driver immediately scoffed in disgust.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” he said, getting back into the driver’s seat and driving the crate into the gates. 

Jimin was scowling at you, but it was nice not being the only one in a bad mood. 

“There’s a town nearby, let’s find a hotel there.”

Turns out the mentioned town was actually experiencing some kind of holiday, which meant crowds upon crowds of people swarmed the place. The good news was that crowds meant a less likely chance that you and Jimin would ever be remembered. The bad news was that the place was so crowded you two could only book a single hotel room for yourselves. 

Thankfully, the room itself was a suite, so the bedroom was separate from the common room, but that meant only one person could sleep on a bed. Considering the heart attack you gave Jimin earlier, you had insisted he take it, but Jimin, being the predictable man he was, wouldn’t have it. 

That left you staring up at the ceiling from the stiffly made bed while Jimin laid on the sofa in the common room. 

Despite the moonlight that shone into your dark room through the window curtains and the lulling sounds of the wall clock and AC, you couldn’t sleep. You’ve always had an issue with sleeping thanks to nightmares and likely some insomnia, but tonight seemed especially bad. Although you could usually sneak in a few minutes of sleep every hour or two, you could barely even manage to close your eyes now. 

You blamed Jimin, particularly his face, for your lack of sleep. Every time you felt your eyes close, you could see him staring back at you with his kind brown eyes and black parted hair. You could even remember him when you first met him, eyes wild with untamed emotions and long black hair. He had grown up so much since you met him, into someone that was intelligent but mature. Gentle but ruthless. Quiet but authoritative. It was his duality that you liked about him, because despite his extremes, he was still balanced. 

The mattress creaked under your weight as you shifted, eyes still focused on the ceiling. You couldn’t keep having thoughts like this if Jimin was going to start dating someone else. It would be unfair to him and his significant other, not to mention if Iseul found out about your feelings you have no doubt she’d have her father end you in a matter of seconds. You couldn’t tell whether it was funny or pathetic how the fear of death amounted to nothing in the face of hurting Jimin and his happiness. 

The sound of the door creaking open had you jerking upwards and reaching for the gun under your pillow, but you paused when you noticed Jimin’s hand on the door knob.

At the sight of you awake, he seemed to sigh in relief. 

“What is it?” You asked, as he made his way to the side of your bed. 

“Come on,” he said while his hand gently wrapped around your arm and pulled you up, “let’s watch a movie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest as he guided you to the common room. When you made it to the television, you noticed two bowls of popcorn already sitting on the coffee table and the red and black colours of Netflix exhibited on the screen. 

Jimin let you down on the couch with your legs crossed before settling on the ground in front of it. You could feel his shoulder brush against your knee softly, and it took everything in you to keep the butterflies at bay. 

“Pick something,” he said, handing you the remote. Your body was on autopilot now, mindlessly shifting through movies and shows you had watched a bunch of times already. 

When you didn’t pick anything for a while, mostly because you were focusing more on pretending Jimin’s shoulder wasn’t pressing against your knee, he frowned.

“You’re mad at me.”

You felt yourself tense as he turned to look at you. 

“I don’t like it when you're mad at me.”

Your gaze couldn’t meet his, opting to continue looking through the Netflix catalogue instead. But Jimin gently took the remote from your hands, forcing your gaze back to him.

Why are you mad at me?

You could practically hear his next words, but to your surprise, his question was different from the one you were expecting.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

The scoff left you before you could stop it. Of course you remembered the most traumatic day of your life. 

“You mean the day you kidnapped me?” You deadpanned. 

Your tone had been more humorous than accusatory, but Jimin looked like you had shoved a knife in his chest. He nodded weakly, and it suddenly dawned on you that maybe that day had been just as traumatic for him as it had been for you. 

“That had been the day I had finally finished my first stage of training,” he started, looking straight ahead at the screen idly, “they used to have this mini ceremony when that happened, kind of like a kindergarten graduation. They gave me some cake. Told me that I would grow up to be useful to the Organisation. There was just one little thing I had to do.”

His shoulders tensed again, “I had to kidnap you from your home and bring you to the Organisation.”

“And despite not knowing what they would do to you, whether they would kill you or force you to join them, I agreed.”

His gaze fell to his hands, “your mother had never let you outside of the boundaries of your home a day in your life, like some real-life Rapunzel. I doubt she expected anyone to even know about your existence. It had been so easy to just break into your room one night, grab you and take you back to the Organisation.”

Jimin turned back to you, the moonlight illuminating the pain in his expression, “Y/N, you deserve someone better than me. Someone that doesn’t make selfish decisions. Someone that didn’t doom you to this life.” 

Your eyes were wide at his words. Despite this entire confession, there was only one thing that you could say.

“You know?” You realised incredulously, “you know about my feelings?”

You didn’t need an answer, it was already written all over his face. He was begging you to forget him, to ‘find someone better.’ This whole time he’s known while you had naively believed that you had been hiding your emotions from him successfully. You couldn’t tell whether you were embarrassed by that or just purely in shock. 

After the initial reaction wore off, and you could process what he was saying a little better, you furrowed your eyebrows, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be stuck in this organisation, forced to kill and stay obedient. You could’ve had a life, Y/N, but I took it away from you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what life? Another decade trapped in the confines of my mother’s home? Knowing her, I doubt she would’ve let me out of there anytime soon. Besides, if you had refused, they would have just gotten someone else to do it. I’m glad I at least got someone like you, who's been with me and supported me every step of the way.”

But Jimin still shook his head, barely hearing a word you were saying. You never realised just how deeply he still thought about that whole ordeal. Aside from a few nightmares every now and then, you didn’t think about it much anymore. You had already suspected that Jimin had been forced into it, so you had never even held it against him either. But it was clear it was still a big deal for him. 

You sighed.

“What about before the Organisation?”

Jimin let a hand run through his hair, reliving the memories of his childhood, “I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember. I jumped between a lot of foster homes and orphanages, but ultimately I ran away. Even the streets were better than most of those places. The Organisation managed to grab me when I was living there. Obviously since I didn’t have a family no one really cared, so I guess I made a perfect target.”

You tilted your head, “and you’re still going on and on about being selfish and dooming me? You were a child they had taken advantage of. If you had refused to kidnap me, you would have failed that task. And we all know what happens when you fail a task in the Organisation.”

The faces of numerous children you had grown up with came to mind, all of which had failed in some way or another, and all of which had never been seen again. The Organisation wasn’t just some teaching school that reprimanded you when you did wrong. It was unforgiving and bloodthirsty, and even the youngest of children knew that.

Jimin’s gaze remained forward as you let him swim in his own thoughts for a moment. You hoped he was at least starting to let go of the guilt that’s been seemingly eating away at him for years. It hurt to see him in so much pain.

“I should’ve stopped them.”

“Then you’d be dead.”

“I should’ve refused them.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N.”

“That’s my decision to make, don’t you think?”

He was silent once again, watching the different shows flash on the screen. You could still see his shoulders tensed and a pained expression on his face. Though he might have been slightly convinced, you could tell he still felt uneasy. 

Slowly, you sank down to the floor next to him, earning you a confused look. But before he could refuse, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you in the process. Jimin paused for a moment, clearly surprised by the sudden action, but after a moment, you felt his arms hesitantly surround your form as well. 

“You’re the only reason I’m still alive today, Jimin. I would have never been able to survive the Organisation’s training if you hadn’t spent day and night teaching me. You’ve always been by my side every step of the way, not just as a partner, but as a friend. So please don’t hurt yourself with guilt, you have nothing to be guilty for.”

You felt Jimin pull you closer as he rested his head on top of yours. It was almost desperate, like he was afraid you’d disappear at any moment. 

“I like you too, you know that?” He said suddenly, “no matter how crazy you drive me sometimes, I’ll always care about you. I promise.”

You pushed yourself off him, scanning his face with wide eyes, “But what about Iseul? Didn’t you guys… talk? Don’t you like her?”

Jimin chuckled, “no, we did not talk and no, I do not like her.”

“Then why did you say you did?”

His expression became sad as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear delicately, “because as much as we both want this, it can’t happen.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, letting silence engulf the moonlit living room. He wasn’t wrong. The Organisation had banned any romantic or sexual relationships between members a long time ago, and breaking those rules unsurprisingly resulted in the punishment of death. Jimin’s confession changed nothing.

But that didn’t make his confession meaningless. If it wasn’t for the Organisation, the two of you could have had a life together. You could have loved each other freely, under no one’s terms. For the first time in a long time you felt a familiar anger towards the Organisation. For stealing you away from your home, and forcing you to do their dirty work while staying obedient to their rules. You were nothing but their slave, and one step out of line would cost you your life without a second thought. 

And the worst part was that there was nothing you could do about it. The organisation didn’t lie when they said they saw, knew and controlled everything. It was terrifying how deep their branches ran in the network of society. They lurked in the shadows of the law, swam in the dealings of businesses, controlling them quietly while people went about their lives cluelessly. They could probably watch the two of you right now if they wanted to, with no repercussions whatsoever. 

You didn’t realise your hand had curled into a shaking fist until Jimin’s fingers brushed against it slowly. He let his fingers interlace with yours, calmly caressing the back of your palm with his thumb. 

“It’s unfair,” you said, like a child throwing a tantrum, but Jimin only nodded his head. 

“I mean, why us? There are so many people in this world living their own lives, completely unaware of the Organisation's mere existence. Yet, we had to be one of the few unfortunate people stuck under their cruelty. Where’s our justice?”

Jimin pulled you into his arms once again. He had no words of comfort for you, but then again, what comfort could you give two birds in a cage when you knew they had no chance of escape. There was no justice for people like you. The ones who worked in the shadows died in the shadows after all. 

Your eyes widened as you suddenly felt his lips brush against your forehead lightly, causing your stomach to do backflips. Even though it was only for a brief moment, they felt so soft and loving on your skin that you knew you’d forever remember this moment for the rest of your life. 

But his kiss didn’t just feel like an act of comfort, it also felt like a little act of rebellion. Like it didn’t matter that the Organisation had banned relationships because Jimin was choosing to kiss you anyway. It made you selfishly happy, despite the risk it posed for the two of you. 

You jumped out of Jimin’s arms, happy to see a similar smile perched on his lips as you grabbed the remote. 

“Funny but wholesome, with a side of angst,” you announced, “I know exactly what we need.”

You sifted through a few titles before clicking on one of the best movies of all time.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the loading screen pop up, “is that a panda? Are we going to watch some kid’s show?”

But you simply covered his mouth with your hand as you grabbed one of the popcorn bowls and  leaned your head against his shoulder. 

“Do not attempt to put down Kung Fu Panda, it will only bring you dishonour and shame.”

Jimin shook his head with a chuckle as he pulled you closer into him. What you didn’t know was that he didn’t really care what you put on the large screen. 

In the end, his focus would be on you every time.

 

The next morning, the two of you were back on the road speeding through the freeway. The landscape had changed from grassy lands and animal farms to vast fields of beige dirt and rocky mountains. As if reflecting the sorry state of the scenery, the weather was also dreary, with thick grey clouds and the smell of a thunderstorm brewing. It didn’t seem to be an immediate threat, but you made a note to keep an eye on it in case it became an obstacle to the transport. 

While yesterday was filled with awkward silence, today’s silence was comfortable and calm. Images of last night flashed in your mind once in a while, of Jimin’s arms around you and his soft lips against your temple. Even though it made you as giddy as a school girl, you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

But there was also this new feeling of grief weaving through the muscles of your heart, weighing your limbs down so that every movement took just a little more effort than before. It was the mourning of what could have been that brought on such a response. Of the life you and Jimin could have had if you both weren’t shackled to the Organisation in inescapable iron chains. You’d learned to live with the reality of your fate, but now that you knew the value of what they had truly taken away from you, you were finding it harder and harder to maintain such a mindset.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the driver, who announced your arrival at the final destination. The facility that finally came into view was almost identical to the facility you all had stopped at last night, except this one was at least three times larger. As the three vehicles approached the gate, you watched it automatically open, allowing the three of you to drive through effortlessly. 

Once you made it inside the facility itself, the driver bid you both farewell, turning to drop off the cargo wherever he had been instructed to. There was no reason to meet up again considering your task was done, so it was safe to say you wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon. 

That left you and Jimin standing idly in the centre of the warehouse, in awe at its size and the diversity in equipment surrounding the two of you. The walls were lined with dozens of giant computers, while the corners were filled with tables holding various blueprints and documents. 

It was a little… messy compared to the Organisation’s normally strict and organised style. The computers were all mismatched and some of the documents had even fallen to the floor. They would never be so careless with their equipment. 

“We should get going,” Jimin said, taking in the unusual setup as well. But following the rules had always come more naturally to him than you. 

Then again, it was important that assassins be ready for the next mission immediately after completing one. And with the intimate moment that happened last night, you were thinking maybe you shouldn’t test the Organisation’s patience too much. 

You sighed, trudging reluctantly behind Jimin as he started making his way towards the exit. Your mind was whirling with theories that attempted to explain what was going on here and why. The only explanation you had was that they were in a hurry responding to something, causing them to be hasty in their actions. Could this tie into what your target in the mansion had said? Was there really something coming? But then why would he tell the two of you to rebel and run away? Was he indicating that this would be the only opportunity to do it?

Jimin pulled the large door open, waiting for you to pass through, and you were about to do just that when your gaze suddenly caught a flash of light near the corner of the room, hidden behind one of the computers. Even though it was dull, it was still bright and enough to trigger your curiosity. 

Jimin’s gaze followed your own until it landed on the light as well. His expression suddenly aged like 10 years on the spot. 

“Y/N, no.”

But you were already walking through the concrete floor, determined to figure out the source of such an abnormality. As you got closer, another computer came into view, bigger and more importantly, already turned on. The dull light had been coming from its screen. 

Jimin’s eyes widened at the discovery, “what are you going to do, break into their computer? We should leave, Y/N.”

“It’s not ‘breaking in’ if the computer is already on,” you reasoned, “besides, don’t you want to know what’s going on here?”

He just shook his head, “we could get in trouble for this.”

Before you could reply, the screen suddenly dulled, indicating that it would turn off in a few seconds. You rushed to it and moved around the mouse, causing the screen to brighten once again. 

With the mouse underneath your fingers, you couldn’t help but snoop around the files a bit, opening them at random to look for anything interesting. Despite his earlier words, Jimin peeked from behind your shoulder, scanning the contents of the screen. You had to ignore the press of his body against your back. 

After one particular click, you noticed a file that seemed a lot larger than the rest. When you opened it, you felt your eyebrows furrow. 

Dozens of blueprints began to fill the screen. At first, you couldn’t recognise what they were illustrating, but then you started to notice a few familiar layouts here and there. 

“They’re blueprints for the Organisation’s building,” you muttered.

You clicked another file that revealed all the timetables of the Organisation’s higher ups down to even the Leader. Next to every name that popped up were red flashing letters spelling ‘optimal timings.’ Curious, you clicked on one of them.

Your eyes widened when a full page suddenly popped up. Within it were all the timings in which the Leader was vulnerable in one way or another: when he dismissed his bodyguards, when he was in public, when he was alone, etc. And every timing was accompanied by the most efficient ways to kill him. You clicked through all the other red inscriptions, taking in the well-thought out and very achievable schemes that could very much have all the higher ups of the Organisation dead. 

“They’re planning a hit on all the Organisation’s higher ups,” Jimin concluded, “but why would the Organisation want to harm itself like that.”

You thought back to the unusual way you and Jimin had been summoned for this mission. 

‘The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission.’

‘This mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation.’

“Because it’s not the Organisation that’s planning all this,” you realised, “it’s Han Iseul, the Leader’s own daughter.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, letting the discovery fully process in your mind. It was the only explanation that made sense, at least to you. But why? The only thing you knew about the Leader’s daughter was that she was largely ignored by the Leader and the Organisation. She didn’t really have any responsibilities, but being the Leader’s daughter, she had an image of purity and power to uphold so that her father didn’t look weak. Maybe she was tired of being nothing but a puppet? You knew you could relate to that. 

You turned towards Jimin, “is this what the man in the mansion had been talking about? What you knew about, but didn’t tell me.”

No.

He hadn’t said anything, but the answer was written all over his face. Jimin looked just as shocked and confused as you did, which had you even more confused than before. There were just too many things happening right now, too many mysteries popping up just as old ones were uncovered. You’re pretty sure your head was hurting from all the thinking you were putting it through. 

But then you realised the weight of your discovery. The Leader’s daughter was staging a coup of some sort in the Organisation. Whether it would be successful or not, it was clearly going to be a big event, one the Organisation wouldn’t see coming. What if you and Jimin could take advantage of that? During all the chaos and battling, what if��

“What if we ran away?” You whispered, as if afraid the Organisation would hear you if you spoke any louder. 

Jimin’s face snapped towards you in surprise. The mere thought of defying the Organisation had you shaking down to the bone, and you were sure he was no stranger to the fear you were experiencing right now. But this could be your ticket to freedom, an opportunity to finally be free from the clutches of the Organisation and their tyranny. 

If not then, it would be never. 

You watched Jimin’s mouth open only for it to close when a buzzing sound came from your earpiece. 

“L/N Y/N, announce your presence,” a stern automated voice stated. 

You internally groaned, knowing the Organisation already had a mission ready for you. 

Your response was in harmony with Jimin’s as he also confirmed his presence, no doubt hearing the Organisation in his own earpiece as well. The two of you stood idly, waiting for the outline of your new assignment.

“Your next mission will consist of the following task,” the stern voice continued, completely devoid of emotion, “Within the next half an hour, beginning at the exact moment this call ends, you must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively. Your target is as assigned:”

There was a pause as the database searched for the target that had been assigned to you, before your heart dropped.

“Park Jimin.”

The familiar click of the line going dead had never sounded so deafening in your ears. Your limbs were still with tension as you tried to process words that felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating the last remnants of any breath left in your lungs. 

‘Park Jimin’

You had to kill Park Jimin

The man that’s been there for you since day one, the reason you're standing here today. Your assignment was to end his life so that you could never gaze upon him again. 

You slowly turned to Jimin, expecting his expression to mirror your own. But instead, his lips were pulled into a taut line while his gaze was aimed straight ahead of him. That was when you realised that Jimin’s expression wasn’t that of shock, it was one of resignation. 

He knew. This is what he had been hiding, what he had known and kept from you this whole time. You wanted to ask him so many questions. How did he know? Why was this happening?

But you could only force out one sentence.

“I have to kill you.”

Jimin’s gaze lifted to your face, and you realised his eyes were drowning in unshed tears. When he spoke, it was hesitant and full of suffering.

“I have to kill you too.”

While your earpiece had called for Jimin’s assassination, his had called for yours. It was clear now that the Organisation wanted a battle. They wanted you and Jimin to fight to the death, and only the successor would be allowed to continue serving them till they too met their end. 

You didn’t know why the Organisation had made the decision. Was it because of last night? Was it because of your mention of running away? 

But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? The plan was over. If one of you weren’t dead in the next 28 minutes, both of you would be killed for your failure. You couldn’t wait for Iseul’s coup to run away anymore. 

It was over. 

You brought out your dagger, an unfamiliar tremor making it hard to hold it firmly. Jimin was the better fighter of the two of you, there was no doubt that it would be your body buried today. The thought of death terrified you, but somehow, dying by Jimin’s blade didn’t seem as scary. At least he would live, even if life under the Organisation was just another form of death itself. You’d gladly give your life if it meant Jimin could live on. 

But a battle is what the Organisation wanted, and just like everything else, a battle is what the Organisation had to get.

You lunged, swinging your dagger straight towards Jimin’s neck. His hand was on his own dagger in a matter of a second and, just as you expected, he deflected your attack easily with the swing of his arm. You expected him to target your armed hand while you jumped back, but instead, he went for your torso, which you dodged easily. 

The next 10 minutes were spent in a dance of dodges and attacks. Anytime your blade came close to even nicking his skin, you felt your heart beat in fear as you quickly changed the trajectory of your dagger. The sound of daggers clanging against each other reverberated around the warehouse, but the red of spilt blood never came.

Your eyebrows furrowed as another one of Jimin’s attacks failed to even scratch your skin. You didn’t understand what was taking him so long to end this. There wouldn’t be much time left to take care of the body within the Organisation's time limit, yet, his attacks were uncoordinated and weak while his dodges were reluctant. 

You went for another attack with your dagger pointed straight towards his ribcage, expecting him to dodge it easily, but Jimin angled his dagger in the opposite direction. Instead of your dagger being deflected into the space to his right, your dagger deflected to his left. You watched in horror as your dagger plunged into the side of his arm before you could pull away.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You jerked your blade back so that it couldn’t dig any deeper into his skin. His blood dripped from the silver tip to the dusty warehouse’s ground, creating a small pool of blood. 

Jimin’s blood.

You’ve been exposed to blood and gore since you were a child and then all throughout your life, but the sight of his blood already had your stomach churning uneasily. 

Aside from a small grimace, Jimin’s expression was unreadable. No anger. No resentment. Just a slight downturn of the corner of his lips, the one he always made when he was in pain. 

Before you could yell at him, Jimin raised his blade and swung towards your shoulder. Sudden panic took over as you raised your dagger to dodge it so that his blade would deflect to the side of your shoulder. Instead, as Jimin’s dagger clanged against yours, he twisted his wrist, literally disarming himself with your blade. 

His weapon clattered to the ground not too far away from your figure, yet he made no effort to retrieve it. Only then did you realise that he hadn’t been putting effort into this fight as a whole. None of his attacks were legitimate and his dodges were just barely keeping him alive. 

Jimin was letting himself lose. 

“No.”

You grabbed his blade from the ground and shoved it into his hand, but Jimin just let it drop to the floor. A sudden burst of anger flared in your chest as you watched his attempt at giving up. 

“Why aren’t you fighting me?” 

You grabbed the dagger once again and tried to make him take it, but the dagger clattered to the ground once again. 

“Why aren’t you fighting me, Park Jimin?!” You yelled, shoving his shoulder. He didn’t even stumble from the action, instead he just stood silently, watching your anger slowly rise.

You went to shove him again, only for his hand to enclose around your wrist and pull you closer, causing you to crash into his chest. A warmth you couldn't quite explain spread all around you as his arms suddenly surrounded your form. If it was possible for a heart to be ripped into two, you were sure you could feel it happening in your chest. Jimin’s warmth was just as comforting as it was heartbreaking, and soon you felt your anger morph into sobs. Your tears started to stain his uniform, but Jimin made no attempt to push you away. 

“We both know who the winner of this fight is, so just get it over with,” you whispered against his chest, praying for it to be quick. But Jimin shook his head. 

“Last time I checked, I’m the one that’s disarmed and injured,” he whispered back. You immediately dropped your weapon and let your hand stroke his injured arm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to be anything major, and yet it felt like your own arm was ripping apart at the sight of it. 

“Please,” you begged in desperation, “there isn’t much time left.”

“You’re right.”

Jimin grabbed the abandoned dagger from the ground and placed it in your hand, enclosing his own fingers around yours so that the dagger couldn’t clatter to the floor. You watched in confusion as he sank to his knees in front of you and then sobbed as he brought the dagger closer to him until it was right next to his neck. You tried to pull away, but his firm grip on your hand wouldn’t let you. 

“I knew that they would give us these orders one day,” he began while letting his other hand squeeze your unoccupied palm gently, “Before I had to kidnap you, I wasn’t that great at following the rules, and because of that I ended up overhearing an unspoken tradition that went on in the Organisation. Usually, they made partners fight to the death after years of service so that only the best stayed in the Organisation.”

“After you became my partner I realised that I didn’t want to participate in such a tradition. So after a little snooping around, I managed to hear about one or two instances where each partner was so good that the Organisation didn’t want to lose even one of them, so they had decided not to make them kill each other. I thought I could train us to be that good, so that we wouldn’t have to go through this, but I guess I messed up somewhere.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That, in the end, all the blame fell on the Organisation. That you were thankful for him and everything he’s done for you. But the words stuck in your throat as you continued to sob. 

Jimin brought the dagger closer to his neck, “I’m sorry baby, you’ll need to continue without me from now on.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, “no, no, please, don’t make me do this.”

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I promise you’ll overcome it quickly,” he continued with damp eyes and a pained smile, “you just have to push this dagger forward and it’ll all be over.”

You shook your head repeatedly, unable to speak because of your closed throat. What he was asking was impossible. You could never even think of doing it. 

“It’s okay,” Jimin stopped squeezing your palm so that he could hold your hand instead, grip still strong in his other as he ensured your hand was clasped around the dagger, “you can do it. Just one push and it’s all over, I promise.”

You knew why he was so adamant about you being the one to kill him. 

‘You must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively.’

To successfully accomplish the task, or in other words end up not getting killed by the Organisation, one of you had to kill the other. Any other form of death wouldn’t be accepted. 

But if Jimin expected you to actually be able to go through with this, he was mistaken. You don’t think your hand could move in such a way even if you tried to command it. Jimin had been by your side for years. He’s the only one that’s genuinely ever cared for you, even taking your life before the Organisation into account. If you were being honest with yourself, you loved him. And although you would do anything for him, you couldn’t do this. No matter how much he wanted you to do it. 

Jimin must have taken your silence for acceptance because you felt his grip slowly loosen so that you could push the dagger forward. But the second he did, you pulled the dagger out of his grasp and threw it far away from you. It felt like a hot iron had been removed from your hand. 

You dropped to your knees in front of him, mimicking his position as a look of surprise took over his expression.

You knew you could never willingly kill Jimin and you knew Jimin would never willingly kill you. And ironically, that would just result in the Organisation killing you both. If the two of you were technically already dead…

Why not try something crazy?

Jimin cupped your face gently, letting his thumbs brush the tears from your cheeks. You spoke up before he could change your mind. 

“What if we ran away?” 

The question was an echo from the conversation you had earlier, only this time the chance of success was much lower. In fact, there was probably no chance at all and even Jimin knew it.

“There’s no distraction, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head, “the Organisation is focused on us now. There’s no way we can get away with it.”

“But what if we can,” you countered, “think about it. The Organisation abducted us all when we were children, in other words, young and gullible. They’ve drilled the idea into our minds that they cannot be defeated and are all-powerful ever since then so that none of us would ever dare to go against them even when we got older. But what if that’s not how it really is? What if… they're not as powerful as they say they are?”

You knew that wasn’t entirely true. The Organisation was powerful, and you’ve seen the proof of that with your own eyes. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. They’ve always used fear as a weapon for obedience, especially when you were children. It’s why you felt yourself shake at the mere thought of rebelling and why the thought has never even crossed your mind. Without fear, how much power did they really have?

Jimin’s gaze was focused on you as he mulled over your words. 

“We’re not going to kill each other, we both know neither of us can do it. So why not just take a chance? We’re dead anyway. Maybe this way we could actually have a life together.”

The chances of that were very low, and you knew Jimin knew that as well. But you were surprised to eventually see a slight nod in his head. 

“We have 5 minutes left,” he announced, referring to the amount of time left before the Organisation would come and finish the task that they had called for. 

He stood, pulling you along with him, but his hand didn’t leave yours even when you were standing upright beside him. 

“We’ll take our bikes and start heading North. I think I have an idea of where we should go,” he picked up both the daggers and handed you yours, “we’ll have to cut out our trackers.”

You nodded, already expecting as much. 

Jimin took your arm in his hands while you took his. The trackers were cut out and thrown to the floor in a matter of seconds, both of you hissing a bit at the slight sting of your cuts. But they weren’t deep, and that’s all that mattered. 

After ditching your earpieces as well, the two of you hastily made your way out of the warehouse to find a storm thrashing at the rocky terrain. The initially dry and dusty landscape was now damp due to the merciless rain and the roads seemed dangerously slippery. Thankfully, the weather would make it harder for the Organisation to track your motorcycle trails. 

This time, the two of you wordlessly hopped onto a single motorcycle rather than separate ones. Aside from the rain, one motorcycle would be a lot harder to track than two. You let Jimin drive, opting instead to wrap your arms around him from behind as he sped through the road at the cycle’s maximum speed. Rather than feel fazed by the speed, you could only feel comfort in Jimin’s warmth. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself back there,” Jimin chuckled, which made you raise an eyebrow.

You chuckled along with him, “since when were you so brazen?” 

“Since the Organisation isn’t holding me back now.”

It made you feel better that you weren’t the only one harbouring some intense feelings all these years. Even though they didn’t get very intense until the last few years, it still sucked sometimes thinking that they were unrequited. But knowing that Jimin felt the same kind of made those times worth it, in a weird unexplainable way. 

Eventually, a tree here and there started to pop up until they morphed into a thick forest. At one point, you were sure you saw some of the Organisation issued motorcycles through the thicket of the forest, clearly speeding through another road in the opposite direction as the two of you. 

“We’re going back,” you realised, “we’re going back to the hotel.”

You could just barely make out the nod of Jimin’s head. The sun had fully set now, and combined with the thunderstorm it was practically impossible to see in front of you. 

It made sense to go back. The Organisation wouldn’t expect you two to be anywhere near it or near any recent mission areas considering they were too predictable. They would likely focus on the areas that were farther away from them, thinking that’s where you would be hiding. 

Thankfully your destination didn’t take too long to show up after the forest thickened. Soon enough, you were checking into the same hotel and even the same room you stayed in the other night. 

Immediately, you crashed back first onto the couch, groaning at the feeling of finally relaxing your muscles. Your day had definitely been more emotionally exhausting than physically by a long shot, which was probably why you felt so drained. Jimin gently sat next to you, adjusting your head so that it was resting comfortably in his lap. 

“We should be able to stay here and get some rest for a few hours before they find us,” Jimin said, letting his hand run through your hair delicately. 

“Then I guess that gives us enough time to come up with a plan,” you said, already racking your brain for the possibilities. You sat up and crossed your legs on the couch while facing Jimin. 

“What do you think?”

Jimin thought for a moment before speaking, “we can lay low for a while, just until they stop looking for us. Then when we get an opening, we move to the countryside.”

You shook your head.

“They’ll find us eventually, whether we live in the city or countryside. What if we completely change our identities? You know, plastic surgery, new passports– all that? Then we can even blend into a city.”

But Jimin shook his head as well, “they’d still find us. Changing identities always leaves a trail.”

There was a beat of silence as the realisation suddenly hit you. 

“Then… we’ll have to leave the country.”

The thought of leaving the country made your heart feel heavy. This was where you were born, where you were raised and became the person you were. Sure, your upbringing was pretty crappy, but nostalgia was nostalgia, wasn’t it?

Slowly, Jimin nodded his head, no doubt going over all the possible options in this situation. You’d still have to get new identities and live in the countryside even in the new country, but it was your best bet. 

“I know for sure the Organisation doesn’t have any ties in Canada,” Jimin thought out loud, absentmindedly brushing his hand against your thigh, “the country itself is huge and a lot of it hasn’t been urbanised just yet. It would be the perfect place to run away to.”

You didn’t know much about the Organisation’s reach internationally, but it didn’t surprise you that they had some control even outside the country. If Canada really was one of the countries that was outside their reach, you could easily hide there. 

There was silence after that. The two of you had been partners for so long that you already knew the rest of the plan without even having to speak it. You’d spend a few hours in the hotel room and rest until around midnight, where you’d get up and make your way to the airport. Hopefully, the Organisation wouldn’t catch up to you while you boarded and left the country for good. 

There were so many things that could go wrong. So many ways the Organisation could get to you and yet, for once you didn’t feel scared. You and Jimin were as good as dead anyway, but now there was hope for a new life. You’ve always thought of hope as a dangerous thing, but now, it’s never made you happier. 

Your hand found Jimin’s, letting yourself intertwine your fingers with his before shifting closer to him. Jimin smiled as he wrapped his arms around you the same way he had done last night. 

Being part of the Organisation since you were 9 had ensured you’ve never had any kind of romantic relationship with anyone before, to the point that just sitting here in Jimin’s arms had your heart beating out of your chest. This was all such unfamiliar territory for you. The only thing that could guide you were all the movies you’ve watched, but you were old enough to know movies weren’t a very accurate representation of real life. 

“The first time I realised that I may have feelings for you was during the Lockley mission,” Jimin said suddenly, immediately piquing your interest. You swung your legs over his and made a little show of getting comfy to encourage him to continue. 

That made Jimin chuckle.

“It had been right when Lockley had turned the tables on us and pulled a gun on you while he had taken you hostage. I remember feeling so panicked, not the kind of panic you feel when a friend is in danger, but so much worse than that. It felt like his gun was resting on my head and, for the first time in a long time, my mind went blank with fear.”

Both your hands wrapped around his as you noticed a slight tremor in them. 

You remember that mission. You and Jimin didn’t anticipate that Lockley, your target, had been expecting the two of you, and because of that he had managed to grab you and put a gun to your head before any of you knew what was happening. He had created a hostage situation so that he could buy himself enough time to get out of there before you and Jimin could kill him like the Organisation had ordered. Thankfully, Jimin had managed to save you, but not before Lockley’s gun went off and instead hit you below the ribs.

Jimin continued as his other hand rested on your leg, “then when you had gotten shot, it was like my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t even let you go when the surgeons had arrived because the thought of losing you terrified me. That’s when I knew that how I felt about you was not as simple as I thought it was.”

“Since the Lockley’s mission…” you thought, “that was almost 5 years ago.”

He’s liked you for the last 5 years and you hadn’t even noticed, probably too busy trying to hide your own feelings from him. 

“Maybe it’s my fault we’re in this situation,” he said uncharacteristically, “I didn’t hide my feelings well enough last night and now our lives are on the line.” 

Jimin has never been one to dwell on ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes,’ he always made sure that what he spoke was useful and relevant. Otherwise he was silent. It was you that often spoke your mind, broke the rules, and gave him heart attacks. He’s done everything to keep you safe, and now here he was blaming himself for what you were starting to realise was probably your fault.

“If anything, I’m probably the reason we’re in this situation,” you thought out loud, “let’s face it Jimin, I’m not exactly good enough for them to make an exception in a tradition that has been upheld for years. They were going to order us to kill each other, regardless of what happened last night.”

You just wish Jimin didn’t have to suffer for your shortcomings. He could have lived if he had killed you when the Organisation had ordered it, probably would have been sleeping in his bed back at the base right now. It was only because of you that he’d dropped everything, sacrificed his life, just to be here with you.

As if reading your thoughts, Jimin immediately brought up his hand to cup your cheek before taking a breath, “no, don’t ever blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“Even though the situation isn’t exactly ideal, I don’t regret trying to protect you. Because no matter how bad everything is right now, nothing makes me happier than being able to hold you like this after years of believing I’ll never get the chance.”

His hand felt warm against your cheek as you looked at him, his own gaze focused on your eyes. You felt the same; even though you’ve been doing everything the Organisation had ordered to keep your life, you’ve never felt more alive until today. Jimin’s touches and words, no matter how small, were electrifying and you found yourself wondering how you’ve been living without them for so many years. 

You noticed his gaze flicker down to your lips for a moment before moving back up to your eyes. The action made you heat, and probably would have been enough to make you look away in embarrassment if it wasn’t for your own gaze that was now focused on his plump lips. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly, trying to force your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

Baby

Your stomach exploded with butterflies at the nickname as your cheeks became hot. The prospect of kissing Jimin, combined with that nickname, suddenly had you panicking to the point that you couldn’t help but blurt out the first thing that came to mind. 

“You called me that before.”

Jimin’s head tilted in confusion for a moment, put off by the sudden comment. It gave you time to try, and fail, at lowering your raging heart and mind. 

“Back at the warehouse,” you explained, trying to focus on your words rather than how close his face was to yours and how foggy it was making your brain, “when you were trying to get me to kill you, you called me baby.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, gaze dropping to your slightly shaky hands still enveloping his and then back to your face, before suddenly shifting your positions. In a matter of seconds, you were straddling his lap while both his hands gently cupped your face. The position was different, it made you feel more in control of whatever was happening. 

You could feel the warmth from Jimin’s chest seep into your own at the new proximity. For as long as you could remember he’s been your warmth and comfort, but experiencing this side of him gave the two words a completely new definition. You wanted to experience more, go as far as humanly possible- but with him, only with him. 

“You’re dodging the question, Y/N,” he whispered, as if not to break the silence. 

Your faces were so close to each other that you could feel your breaths mingling. The closeness felt oddly calming, helping you focus a little better. But you didn’t need much of your brain right now anyway. You knew what you wanted. There was no more need for thinking anymore. 

“Can I–”

Before Jimin could finish, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips with his. 

A comfortable warmth burst inside your chest as Jimin immediately sunk into the kiss, letting you feel his soft and plump mouth in the process. You couldn’t describe the feelings you were experiencing. Everytime his lips glided over yours, your chest tightened with want for more. Your hands found themselves in Jimin’s hair, tugging every once in a while and subsequently earning you a pleased groan. 

One of his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue moved your lips apart to let himself into your mouth. It was no question that he was the one dominating this kiss right now, but you didn’t mind at all. You were just trying not to self combust under all the new emotions you were experiencing for the first time. 

Jimin’s hand, which was now resting on your waist, continued to pull you flush against his chest.  The movement caused him to groan, and he suddenly pulled you away from him. 

“How far do you want to go tonight?” He said through laboured breaths.

It took you a second to notice the obvious want in his eyes and then another to process the fact that he had asked a question.

“As far as we can,” you said, “I want every part of you, Jimin.”

Jimin smiled before he connected with your lips once again. This time, one of your hands raised to brush your fingers through his hair. He moaned, causing his lips to disconnect with yours. Instead they found a spot near your neck, allowing him to send open mouthed kisses all over your throat.

You felt yourself being gently pushed until the soft couch connected with your back. Jimin hovered over you, continuing to mark your neck and collarbone with his lips. His torso, which was now slotted between your legs, pushed you deeper against the couch, causing you to moan. The movement had your heart rate racing once again. 

“Wait,” you said suddenly.

Jimin immediately paused, putting some space between the two of you, but the arms wrapped around his neck kept him in place. 

“I’ve never done this before.”

Sexual relationships were also strictly banned in the Organisation. And since you started at 9, it was no surprise that you were still a virgin at your age. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin was still one as well. 

It wasn’t that you were scared of having sex with Jimin, but it was the idea of the unknown that scared you more. You didn’t entirely know how to pleasure him, or even yourself. Knowing that you’ll never have sex, you never really bothered to research the specifics, but now you were really regretting that decision. You felt unprepared. 

Noticing the uncertainty on your face, Jimin’s expression softened, “do you want to stop?”

“No,” you answered immediately, “I just… I don’t…”

You struggled to find the words, but Jimin being Jimin didn’t need much explanation. He intertwined his fingers with yours before placing a kiss over the scar you had gotten from the Lockley incident. 

“I haven’t either,” he admitted, “but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

That made you smile. Of course he will. Park Jimin had been by your side for as long as you could remember, been the only person in this world that had kept you safe and as happy as possible given the situation. You trusted him, more than you trusted even yourself. 

“I know,” you said, because you wanted him to know it. You wanted him to know that you trusted him and knew how much he cared about you. You wanted him to know how much you cared about him too, and how much you wanted him in your life, even if it probably wasn’t going to be a very long one, “I love you.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said the big ‘I love you’ right before having sex, you don’t recall any romantic movie scenes where that had happened. Maybe it was shallow or too casual. 

But the big smile that suddenly overtook Jimin’s face made you happy that you did. He gave you a few light kisses on your lips before he whispered it back against your ear.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Hearing him say it back affected you a lot more than you had thought it would. Despite dreaming about a moment like this for years, nothing could come close to the real feeling of Park Jimin telling you he loved you right after telling him the same. You imagine this is what being high feels like, mind hazy on satisfaction. 

You let Jimin kiss you again, this one much more passionate than the last. When he pulled away from you, his expression showed nothing but care and love. 

“Let me show you how much I love you baby.”

This time you didn’t overthink.

This time you gave yourself to him completely, all night. 

It was still dark when Jimin woke you up, pointing out a few shady looking people from your window. It didn’t take long for you to understand that your time at the hotel was up. 

You both needed to get moving. 

After making sure you weren’t being followed, you and Jimin hopped onto your motorcycle and continued speeding down the secluded highway. You’d only managed to get a few hours of sleep before Jimin had woken you up, meaning the sun was probably going to rise in an hour or two. It wouldn’t do much to change the gloomy atmosphere considering it was still raining, but you’ve never been in a better mood until today. 

Jimin also seemed to be in a good mood, pointing out cool scenery and animals through the dark as you travelled through vast fields of farmland. It didn’t even feel like you both were trying to run away from inevitable death. It just felt like any other day, following through on one of your missions.

About an hour or two later, Jimin was pulling into the airport, bringing the motorcycle to a stop right in front of the passenger pick-up and drop-off area. 

“So what’s our point of entrance?” You thought out loud while scanning your surroundings. 

You obviously couldn’t just waltz through security with your weapons and no passport and expect not to be thrown into jail in record time. There needed to be another way. 

Jimin pointed his head to the right, guiding you to follow his line of sight. At the far end, you could see the air stewards and pilots laughing and talking with each other as they walked into the airport with their small hand carries. 

“It would definitely get us past security,” you agreed, picking up on what he was implying.

The two of you abandoned the motorcycle and made your way into the airport. You needed to find the group of air stewards and pilots that were flying to Canada so you could get past security. After that, it should be easy to get onto the plane.

You and Jimin scanned the board of flights, praying there was a flight to Canada happening soon. To your relief, the earliest flight was departing in about half an hour. Not a lot of time, but you could definitely make it work. 

Before you could start looking for a group of stewards attending that flight, a man caught your eye. He was just standing there, looking around the place as if he were some kind of security guard. But he wasn’t dressed as such, rather he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans–

Your eyes furrowed as you noticed his shoes. They were standard issue shoes from the Organisation, no doubt about it. And with how vigilant the man was being, you were betting that he had been put on high alert, likely searching for the two of you. 

“Nine o’clock, in the black hoodie,” you whispered to Jimin, who didn’t look right away. 

His eyes flickered to the man and then back to you, “the group of stewards next to the security entrance match our description.”

You nodded keeping a close eye on the man, who was still oblivious to the two of you thanks to the crowd surrounding you both. 

“We meet up in the family bathroom after clearing security,” you said, causing Jimin to nod. 

Without any other words the two of you split up, Jimin off to seize his steward while you were off to seize yours. It was normal for you to follow unsaid commands like that, you could read each other so easily after all. What wasn’t normal was the small squeeze Jimin gave your hand before you split, one that had you battling a smile and heated cheeks. 

It didn’t take you long to find the group Jimin had hinted at, but it did take a while to find a stewardess similar to your height and appearance. The clock in the back of your mind was counting down the time left until the plane’s departure. You had to get on that plane in time, or you could kiss any chance of freedom goodbye. 

27:32 minutes remaining.

You walked up to the steward, explaining the first problem you could think of off the top of your head. It was easy getting her to come with you into the bathroom, and then even easier to knock her out in one of the stalls without a sound. The Organisation had taught you how to manipulate to the point that it was practically second nature to you. 

You quickly put on her uniform while checking for her passport and boarding ticket. Unfortunately you were going to have to leave behind your gun and daggers, which made you feel more naked than ever. But you didn’t have much other choice at this point. 

With your head held high, you walked out of the bathroom in the stewardess uniform and hand carry dragging against the floor. You didn’t see Jimin anywhere yet, but you had to get past security and into the bathroom first before you could start worrying about him. 

You greeted the security guard with a smile as you handed him your passport and boarding ticket. He took your baggage and placed it on a conveyor belt while motioning for you to go through the metal detector. The detector stayed silent as you walked through confidently.

It was the bag that caused a sound to erupt from the machine. 

The security guard’s eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the screen that was showing the scan of your luggage. Unfortunately the screen was turned the other way so you couldn’t see what he was picking up on.

“Are you sure you’ve declared everything ma’am?” He asked sternly, pulling the carry on from out of the machine and unzipping it. 

Crap… was the stewardess you picked a drug smuggler? She didn’t seem like one to you, but if he’s picking up on drugs then that’ll be an issue. How stupid could she be to openly smuggle drugs in her luggage? She was a stewardess, didn’t she know security scanned baggage?

You readied yourself to get out of the situation, but then paused as he flipped the luggage open. 

Oh god…

Staring back at you and the security guard was a neon pink adult toy sitting right at the top of a bunch of neatly folded clothes. 

The security guard stuttered as he quickly zipped the carry on shut while you tried your hardest not to laugh. He practically threw the hand carry back at you, looking anywhere but your face. 

“Enjoy your flight ma’am,” he choked out. His eyes suddenly widened, as if realising the double meaning behind that sentence before scrambling to redeem himself, “that’s not– I-I mean-”

You couldn’t help the reply that came out of your mouth, “Thank you, I will indeed enjoy my flight.”

You laughed internally as you watched the security guard’s face turn bright red, before walking off towards the bathroom. 

Poor guy. That was hilarious, though. 

But your smile was quick to vanish when you noticed the guy in a black hoodie from earlier standing in the same line you had been just a moment before. This time, his gaze was fixed solely on you. 

They found you.

Your hands were quick to find the lock of the family bathroom, twisting it quickly before you were scanning the small space. Jimin was already there, sitting atop the closed toilet patiently while wearing a men’s steward uniform. At your arrival he stood immediately. 

You were surprised when he greeted you with a firm kiss to your lips. 

Man could you get used to this. 

“Nice dildo,” Jimin snickered, earning him a roll of your eyes. 

“I guess the plane ride can get boring for some.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. The fact that it was caught on the machine meant that it was some kind of automated toy too, which for some reason made it funnier. 

When your laughs died out, you were the first to break the mood, “the man we saw earlier spotted me. He’s in line for security right now.”

“Okay, then we need to be quick,” Jimin nodded, demeanor becoming serious,“we obviously won’t be able to get on the plane as stewards. Our only point of entrance is the cargo compartment that they have for pets since it’s the only one on an airplane that’s pressurised and ventilated.”

“We can try getting there through the vents,” you suggested.

In the past, the two of you participated in a mission that required you to memorise the layout of the airport’s vents, but that was a long time ago. Your memory of the vents couldn’t be as accurate now, not to mention the airport was always going through construction, so you didn’t even know if the vents would still be the same as before. 

Jimin explained that much to you again. 

“There should be a back entrance for the workers that load the baggage into the plane,” he said, “we’ll have to find it and–”

A sudden bang from outside the bathroom door caused you both to flinch. Your eyes immediately went to the door, while your hand instinctively grabbed for your dagger before realising it wasn’t there anymore. 

“This is airport security. Open the door or we’ll be forced to use violence,” a man’s voice yelled. 

It was safe to say that was not airport security, and instead the Organisation forcing you out of the bathroom. In fact, you’d bet some heavy money on that guy in the black hoodie from earlier being the one standing outside the door right now. 

“Well, vents it is,” you announced, rummaging through the stewardess’s hand carry until you managed to find a metal hair curler. You gave it to Jimin, who grabbed it quickly and began breaking the vent cover. 

“You have 20 seconds before we open this door,” he said, but you could already see the door knob wiggling. They were no doubt placing an explosive and would set it off the moment they were done. 

In a matter of seconds, Jimin had managed to break off the vent cover with the hair curler and hoist you into the vent. The sound of the door erupting reverberated around the room just as Jimin managed to hoist himself up. Splinters from the door flew everywhere, landing near even you, who was already well within the metal labyrinth. You grabbed Jimin’s arm and helped him up before making your way deeper into the vents. 

Your mind struggled to remember the layout of the airport’s vents. Every turn you took was more of a guess than a certainty, but Jimin didn’t correct you when you made a decision so your choices couldn’t have been that bad. 

The sounds of the Organisation’s men following you through the vents could be heard a few metres back. You needed to hurry if you wanted to get away from them and if you wanted to make it on time to the airplane. 

10:01 minutes remaining.

You paused when the vents split into two opposite directions, completely unsure of which direction led to where. You could swear that this split wasn’t even in the outline you studied years ago. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know the directions, would you?” You asked Jimin, while sounds of the Organisation’s men got closer and closer. 

Jimin paused, no doubt crouched uncomfortably as he waited behind you. You hated how if the men caught up to you, it would be Jimin that would have to face them first. You could even bet that’s why Jimin stayed behind you in the first place. That protective bastard.

“I don’t think this was part of the outline,” he said after racking his brain for the answer. 

Your focus shifted behind you to look at Jimin, but instead you noticed the Organisation’s men already inching a few metres away towards you two. They’d catch up to you guys in no time. 

You shifted your focus back to the situation in front of you. It was really a 50/50 chance at this point, so you quickly did eenie meenie miny moe in your head and prayed the direction you chose wouldn’t land you right into the hands of the Organisation. Wordlessly, Jimin followed behind. 

A few more minutes of uncomfortable crawling led you to a dip in the vent, almost like a slide. You slid down it without hesitation, completely aware that the Organisation’s men were now dangerously close to Jimin. 

What you didn’t expect, was for the vent to end, causing you to slam into the vent cover. You awkwardly brough your feet in front of you, and slammed them against it. It clattered to the seemingly concrete ground, allowing you to finally squeeze out of the cramped vent. 

05:57 minutes remaining.

The outside’s breeze flowed through your hair as you tried to make out the layout in front of you through the darkness of dawn, a crack of the sun that was now visible helping a bit. A few airplanes stood side by side in a line, while others were already speeding down the runway into the air. 

You heard Jimin jump out of the vent, but before you could turn towards him, you felt him pull you down to the ground. Not a second later, three bullets came flying towards where you had been standing moments ago. 

The both of you turned around to see the Organisation’s men jumping out of the vents, eyes trained on you. You were already mentally cursing at the guns in their hands. 

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing Jimin’s arm and dragging him behind you. 

You were lucky that it was dark, which messed up the aim of a lot of the shots being sent towards you both. What you needed was to find the airplane leaving in less than 5 minutes. But the more you scanned the area, the more you were losing hope. 

“There,” Jimin said suddenly, pointing towards your left.

The plane was hidden behind one of the watchtowers. It seemed that all the passengers had boarded, and the only thing it was waiting for was the loading of the luggage. You could see the workers still throwing large cargo into the cargo compartment quickly. You just needed to reach that point, then getting past the workers would take no time. 

You and Jimin continued to run towards it. Almost there, almost there…

“Wait,” you stopped suddenly, realising something. Jimin’s brows furrowed as he paused next to you.

“Wha-”

“The men,” you said, looking behind you. They weren’t shooting anymore, instead they were just standing there watching the two of you, “why are they just standing there?”

You were well within range of their weapons. Why wouldn’t they take a shot when they had the cha–

“Watch out!” Jimin suddenly yelled. 

You just barely managed to dodge the giant truck that had been hurtling towards you at full speed. With its headlights off, you didn’t even notice it had been coming towards you until it would have been too late. 

The truck screeched to a stop, allowing several more men and women from the Organisation to jump out and surround you. You were severely outnumbered, with no weapons and now less than 3 minutes to get on a plane that stood at least 120 metres away from you. 

“We just need to get to the plane,” Jimin said, analysing the 17 armed individuals currently surrounding you both, “once we’re in the plane, they can’t get us. We’ll need to make a run for it.”

02:11 minutes remaining.

Jimin was right, there was no time to take your chances with the individuals surrounding you. You could already see the workers throwing in the last of the baggage and getting ready to close the cargo entrance. If you didn’t make it, it was over. 

You quickly lunged at one of the men, clearly taking him off guard. You grabbed his gun and managed to slam its butt into his face, causing him to crumple to the floor. One look at the gun in Jimin’s hand had you both sprinting towards the airplane. 

01:37 minutes remaining.

Every few seconds, you had to turn back and send a few bullets flying towards the group, which was now down to 15. It gave you and Jimin a chance to run without being shot at. 

01:07 minutes remaining.

A worker threw the last bag into the cargo hold and motioned for another to begin closing the compartment. You and Jimin were only a few metres away, sprinting with as much energy as you could. You’d be able to make it within a minute–

A bullet suddenly ripped into your calf, causing you to stumble and almost faceplant right into the concrete. Pain erupted in your leg as you tried to get back onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Jimin shouted, crouching down next to you immediately. 

He brought up his gun and sent a bunch of bullets towards the group, three of which actually hit their target. The Organisation’s members immediately fell backwards, waiting for a safe moment to shoot. 

00:34 minutes remaining.

You could see the compartment closing as the workers made their way back into the baggage carts and began driving away. 30 seconds… You only had 30 seconds to make it before your opening would close forever. 

“Y/N, I know it hurts,” Jimin said, and you could pick up on the hint of desperation in his voice, “but we need to run for it. Just 20 seconds, okay? You just need to hold out for 20 seconds.”

You nodded, clenching your teeth as Jimin helped you up while sending more shots towards the Organisation’s people. 

10 seconds remaining.

“Okay, now!” He signalled. 

The two of you continued to sprint towards the now closing airplane compartment, Jimin’s arm half dragging you in the process. Your leg wasn’t completely useless considering you were just barely able to match his speed, but the pain almost had you blacking out midrun. 

7 seconds remaining.

Jimin’s grip on your arm tightened as he sped up.

“Almost there,” he assured, “almost there.”

5 seconds remaining.

You wanted to cry in relief when you finally came to a stop in front of the compartment door. The large door was closing upwards and was already halfway closed. That caused Jimin to hurriedly lift you up so that you could slip into the little opening between the closing door and the side of the plane. 

The only issue was that by the time you were inside, the opening was much too small for Jimin to slip through. 

3 seconds remaining.

“Jimin!”

You couldn’t see him anymore, the sides of the door had closed too much. How was he going to get in?

2 seconds remaining.

No, no, no.

“Jimin!” You shouted again, like it was going to do anything. 

1 second remaining.

A grunt caused your gaze to shift upwards, and you noticed Jimin slipping through the small opening between the top of the door and the plane’s side. For a terrifying moment, you thought the closing door was going to crush him, but at the last second he managed to slip through without losing his head. 

The second his feet connected with the floor, you threw your arms around him, almost sobbing at the fact that he was alive and you weren’t going to have to travel to Canada without him.

Jimin chuckled at your reaction, but with how tight his hold was, you were sure he wasn’t as nonchalant as he was making himself out to be. 

“Come on,” he said softly, refusing to let you go, “let’s go to the ventilated compartment before the plane takes off.”

You nodded as he helped your limping form towards the other side of the compartment. With the initial shock wearing off, your eyes widened at the realisation. 

“We did it…” You said incredulously. 

Jimin gave you a smile as he got the door open and ushered you inside before making sure it was properly locked. 

“Holy crap, we actually did it, Jimin. We bested the Organisation.”

The realisation didn’t feel real, like at any moment you’d wake up back in the hotel room and realise this was all a dream. The Organisation that you’ve feared ever since you knew about its existence would now be a distant memory. You and Jimin could finally live your lives based on your own terms, without the fear of death constantly looming over your heads. It was almost daunting thinking about the amount of freedom you now had. 

Jimin sat you down next to one of the cages, which were largely empty besides one sleeping dog nestled in the corner. Moving your pant aside, he began examining your bullet wound. 

“I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine,” you assured, but he continued anyway.

Gently, he unravelled the mini scarf wrapped around your neck as part of the stewardess uniform and began wrapping it around your wounded calf. You flinched in pain, causing him to stroke your thigh in comfort. 

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, continuing to wrap your wound gently while you clenched your teeth. 

“What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, “we’re about to go to Canada and live the rest of our lives there. Surely you have some plans.”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t even think we’d make it this far, much less have time to plan out what we’ll do in Canada.”

The plane suddenly lurched, indicating the beginning of its take off. Jimin finished tying the scarf and then began to apply pressure, causing you to whine in pain. 

“I want a small house,” you blurted out, piquing Jimin’s interest.

“Small?” He asked, to which you nodded, “I would have thought that after our small rooms at the Organisation, you would have wanted something big?”

You shook your head. Sure, the Organisation’s small bedrooms had driven you crazy at some points, but a large house was just as daunting. Big houses reminded you of your life before the Organisation, and although it wasn’t terrible, it made you feel cold and unsettled. And you told Jimin just that. 

He smiled, continuing to hold pressure against your leg, “then a small house you will get.”

“What about you? What do you want once we reach there?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer. Jimin wasn’t a very materialistic person. At least you watched an unhealthy amount of movies and made a hobby out of talking his ears off. But aside from training, you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed him doing much else. 

“Well that’s easy. All I want is you.”

You rolled your eyes, “okay, Romeo. Serious answer please?”

The pressure on your wound suddenly lifted, allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief, as Jimin checked for bleeding. When he seemed satisfied by the lack thereof, his gaze held yours, shifting to a more serious expression. 

“As an orphan, I’ve never stayed in a place comfortable enough to call it home,” he said, “and then when the Organisation kidnapped me, I knew I could kiss any hopes of comfort goodbye.”

“But then I met you. You were lively and intelligent, with a spirit as vivacious as a cool breeze. And though they tried their best, the Organisation couldn’t entirely kill that fire inside you. I was doomed the second you decided to give me the time of day. You quickly became my comfort, my home. So yes, all I really want is you.”

“Since when did you become so chatty, Park Jimin?” You said, trying to distract him from the fact that you were sure your face was red. 

But Jimin just gave you a lopsided grin, “ I have to make up for all the times you talked my ear off, don’t I?”

“Hey! I thought you liked listening to my rambling,” you protested.

Jimin stood up suddenly, walking towards you before kneeling down next to your seated form. His hand cupped your face gently as a slight chuckle escaped his lips. 

“I’m just kidding baby, of course I like your rambling,” he said softly, “I would listen to your voice all day if I could.”

He brought you closer for a chaste kiss before pulling back and giving you a teasing smile. How you ended up with a man like him you’ll never know. But if the Organisation hasn’t killed you, you know he probably will with his sweet words and even sweeter actions. 

His proximity had your whole body feeling warm and fuzzy, especially your hands. It wasn’t until you noticed your hands turning hot when you realised that they weren’t heating as a response to Jimin. Confused, your gaze dropped to where your hands were resting on the floor, Jimin doing the same when he noticed your sudden change in expression. 

Your eyes widened.

Dark red liquid enveloped your hands as it pooled in the centre of the small compartment. Jimin’s gaze snapped to your leg, but it had long since stopped bleeding. 

“What the hell-” you said, following the trail of blood to the corner of the cages. 

Jimin stood, slowly making his way to the source of the trail. The dog from earlier was still soundly asleep in its cage, completely unaware of your presence. Or at least, that’s what the two of you had thought. 

As Jimin inched closer, he was starting to realise that the blood was actually seeping from under its cage and pooling into the centre of the compartment. He crouched down with furrowed eyebrows, wondering how the dog could be sleeping through all this. But the answer came to him quickly as he noticed the eerie stillness of the creature.

He wasn’t sleeping. 

He was dead.

“Jimin?” Your distressed voice called from behind him. 

“The dog is–”

Jimin froze as he stood and turned around, taking in the terrifying scene in front of him. A man almost double your size had pushed a dagger dangerously close to your throat as his other arm wrapped around you, ensuring you couldn’t move.  

‘Behind you!’ his mind screamed at him. He knew this move, had learned it multiple times before they had even taught him how to write. But he knew he was too late when he felt the press of a single cool blade against his neck. The owner of said blade chuckled from behind him. 

You watched in panic as the man pressed his dagger more firmly against Jimin’s throat, enough to draw a single drop of blood. 

“Well, haven’t you both been a surprisingly significant inconvenience today?” A deep voice rang. 

Your gaze shifted to the other corner of the room, taking in the entrance of another man. It didn’t take long for you to recognise his tall figure, rugged features, and uniquely marked pistol hanging from his hand. 

The Leader.

His sharp gaze scanned over you and Jimin with contempt as he slowly made his way towards the centre of the room. You grimaced when he stepped right into the pool of blood like it was nothing but water. 

“You were given direct orders,” he continued, “yet they were disobeyed, despite your pledge of loyalty to the Organisation.”

“Were you not aware of the consequences?” 

A silence ensued in the compartment, you nor Jimin willing to provide him with an answer. He didn’t seem to appreciate that. 

He flicked his head towards Jimin, and you only had a second to realise the implication of that action.

The man standing behind Jimin suddenly plunged his dagger into him, right below his rib cage, to the point that you could see the tip of the dagger. 

“No!” You screamed, trying to run to him but the man behind you held onto you firmly. Jimin groaned in pain, falling to his knees with a hand pressed against the bleeding wound. The man behind him no longer needed to restrain him, opting instead to lean against the wall. 

You didn’t bother to hide the tears that started running down your cheeks as you watched Jimin grimace in pain. It felt like the dagger had stabbed you instead because you could’ve sworn pain erupted under your ribcage as well. 

“I asked, were you not aware of the consequences?” The Leader asked again. 

It made you glare, “since when do you care about what we are and are not aware of?”

But the Leader ignored you as he stepped right in front of Jimin, gaze focused solely on him. He lowered himself into a kneeling position and grabbed Jimin’s chin, forcing him to gaze upwards. The look of pain on Jimin’s face made you sob. 

“Yes, I did know,” he said, voice unwavering despite the evident grimace on his face.

“So you both directly disobeyed orders from the Organisation? You admit to being traitors to the most powerful organisation in the world?”

“Spare her,” Jimin said suddenly, as if he’d been holding it in the entire time, “do what you want with me, but please let her go.”

“No!” Like hell you were going to let him take the fall for this, “I forced him to do it. He isn’t a traitor!”

“Shut her up,” the Leader commanded. 

You felt pain shoot up your leg as the man behind you dug his heel into your bullet wound. Your knees collapsed to the ground as you tried to muffle your cry of pain. 

The Leader scanned Jimin once again, who was starting to look a little dazed with all the blood he'd lost. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Park Jimin,” he sighed, “I had great plans for you. You could’ve married my daughter, become the leader after me. But now you’ve made yourself a traitor, and my daughter is dead.”

Guilt spread through your chest at the news of his daughter’s death. She was the one that could’ve stopped him and his organisation, but now she was no more. No doubt killed at the hands of her own father. You could see a hint of guilt in Jimin’s expression as well. 

“I suppose I should thank you for aiding in exposing my daughter for the traitor she was,” the Leader continued, “but we both know the Organisation does not work like that.”

The Leader’s hand went to cup Jimin’s neck, who was now barely keeping his eyes open. 

“There are no places for traitors in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered. 

Jimin’s dazed, but heavy gaze fell on you, who was doing a poor job at keeping the tears streaming down your face at bay. For the first time in a long time you had trouble understanding what he was trying to say. Goodbye? I’m sorry? I love you? For a moment, you were sent back to when you were 9 again, staring into the eyes of the 12 year old boy who’s expression held a whirlpool of emotions and pleas as he dragged you away from your old life. 

Then a dagger sprang from the Leader’s wrist and plunged into Jimin’s neck, causing another scream to rip out of your hoarse throat. This time, Jimin went limp in a matter of seconds, body dropping to the ground as his lifeless eyes stared aimlessly in front of him. 

Your sobs filled the compartment’s silence as the Leader paused. He deserved so much better than this. He was so kind and intelligent and talented. He could have done so much, achieved so much if he had only been given the chance. If the Organisation hadn’t gotten to him and made his life a living hell. 

The Leader turned to you, but you were no longer paying him any attention. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the nightmare standing in front of you. Not even 10 minutes ago you had been hoping that you weren’t living some kind of dream, but now you’d do anything to wake up back at that hotel. If only you had forced Jimin to kill you at the warehouse. If only you had pushed him away that night in the hotel. If only, if only, if only.

Then Jimin wouldn’t have suffered so much. He could have been back at the base, training for another mission, alive and well. It should’ve been you. It should’ve only been you.

You could make out the Leader making his way towards you before kneeling and forcing your chin to face him. But it didn’t matter, all you could see was Jimin’s lifeless body and it would be the only thing you’d see until the Leader finally decided to end your suffering. 

“It’s disappointing watching you in this position considering how hard we worked to get you back from your mother,” he said while shaking his head. 

That made your eyebrows furrow momentarily. What did he mean by back from your mother?

Noticing this confusion, the Leader continued, “before you were born, the Organisation had decided to experiment with a new way of recruiting members. Instead of kidnapping children, we decided to try breeding them and then training them as soon as possible. Of course, we had to test this new approach first.”

“So we bred you, the daughter of the strongest assassins in the Organisation at the time. Unfortunately, your mother seemed to grow an attachment to you and ended up stealing you away from us. It was impressive how she managed to hide you from us for 9 years. 

“But those 9 years were wasted. During them, you could have trained to become the Organisation’s best assassin. You could have been our most powerful tool.”

The Leader looked back at Jimin, but you couldn’t find it in you to follow his gaze. The image of his lifeless body had been burned into your mind, looking at him just felt like the hot iron was pressing back into your brain once again. 

“Both of you could have.”

There might have been a time when the revelation of your history might have shocked you. When learning that your mother had betrayed the Organisation for you might have willed you to look back and connect the dots. But now your mind felt numb. You honestly couldn’t care less if your mother had picked you up from a garbage can. Jimin was gone and you were only running on borrowed time. 

“Tragic how the ones destined for greatness always fall the hardest,” he continued.

The Leader’s hand followed up your shoulder until he was cupping your neck. His gaze was the gaze of death, and you focused on it until you no longer could. You closed your eyes, waiting for the final blow. 

It’s funny how in the face of death your life didn’t flash before your eyes, nor did you cry hysterically or beg for your life. Instead, the voice of your mother awoke from its slumber in your mind, asking a question that you hadn’t been asked in a long time. 

So, what is the moral of the story?

For years you had racked your small brain, trying to find an answer to the question that had seemed so significant and complex to you. It was almost insulting how quickly the answer came to you now. It couldn’t have been more clear. 

In the story, that stupid girl had gone her whole life flaunting her grades, her intelligence, and her beauty in the faces of everyone around her. She ensured that anyone, whether friend or stranger, knew about her superiority and magnificence, yet not once did she stop to ponder about how against her that would make others. How willing people could be to destroy her out of jealousy, or how willing people could be to steal what she had and keep it for themself.

Not once did she stop and wonder how she could protect herself in the case of an attack. 

She had built the cage that was supposed to protect her with glass, and when the big bad wolf had come for her head, she might as well have handed it over to him on a silver platter. 

All your life, you had thought that the metal cage your mother had built around you was to keep you contained, but really it had been made to keep the Organisation out. Once the Organisation had gotten you, you didn’t bother building another. That’s what made you and the girl from the story the same. 

You both didn’t bother to prepare, instead you were stupidly content with your glass cages. 

But as you felt the Leader’s grip tighten on your neck, you couldn’t help but think you were tired of cages. You’d suffered within the confines of your mother’s, and then the Organisation’s. Your first taste of freedom had been Jimin, but now he was gone and had taken your freedom with him. 

“There are no places for failures in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered. 

And when the dagger plunged into your neck, a sigh of relief almost escaped your lips. 

You were finally free.

[acopenhagenarmy]

THE ACADEMY - CHAPTER 1

Pairing: BTS x reader but mostly hyung-line x reader  Side pairings: Jimin x Taehyung, Jimin x Ateez!Wooyoung, reader x Ateez!Seonghwa

Mafia!au - gang!au - assassins!au 

Word count: 5k ish

Warnings: Mentions of death, nudity and sex apart from that some strong language. And I think that’s it for now.. 

Summary: Growing up in one of the biggest and most feared mafias has it’s perks, but what happens when you and you’re friends are suddenly shipped off to the other end of the world? Will you stay together or will the world you live in tear you all apart? 

NOTE: THIS IS THE UPDATED VERSION OF MY HEART RUNS TO YOU

-> NEXT CHAPTER

Harder!” he yelled at you as you once again kicked the punching bag he so desperately tried to keep steady. The sweat was trailing down the sides of your face as tears, as you did your best to keep your breathing under control. It was hard, and he knew just how to work your body to the breaking point.

But then again if anyone could it was him, after all you’ve known each other your entire lives. And you’d been kicking his ass ever since the two of you shared your mother’s womb.

The hall where you and your brother spent every early morning was large. A boxing ring was located in the middle surrounded by different machines and equipment, there to make sure everyone was in the best form of their life. Because at some point all of you would need to run from death, or maybe even fight it. 

A door opened at the top of a flight of stairs and through it walked your brother’s best friend and right-hand man, Jeon Jungkook. Walked might be the wrong word though, if you looked closely it almost looked like he danced down the stairs. 

When he reached the bottom, he spread his long arms and yelled: “Oh, my sweet, sweet Parks! Where have you been all morning?” Both you and Jimin looked confused at each other as your workout came to a halt. 

Jimin slowly let go of the bag, as you once again stood up straight, both of you leaving the workout for a few moments as you tried to decipher just what made your friend this excited at 5:30 am.

You loosened your boxing gloves and threw them aside, revealing the tiger stripes that twisted around your left wrist and ended right below your elbow. In the meantime, Jimin had located a water bottle and threw it your way as you stepped forward towards Jungkook.

As you caught the bottle and opened it you smiled at the giant man before you and said: “Why are you yelling like a maniac Kook? And you better have a good reason to disturb our morning workout.”

You took a big gulp of water as Jimin walked towards the two of you. He shook his head at Jungkook, as he once again started to dance in front of you. 

“Boy, you are completely insane” Jimin spoke as he looked at the man that now resembled a bunny more than a human. He looked at you afterwards, and all you did was raise a brow at your twin, because to be honest what was he expecting. All Jungkook did was grin and send a sweet smile towards the two of you. One of those that made his nose scrunch.

“Well my dearest friends… I come with a message; bitches we got in!” Out of his back pocket he pulled a black paper where the word academy was etched into it in gold, and above the words was a cold circle.

You dropped the water, not minding it spilling all over the floor, and pulled the paper out of Jungkook’s hands as you flipped it and started to read. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jimin’s excited face as he started to jump, scream and dance with his friend. You could feel your heart stop and your lungs failing as you read over the golden words.

Dear Mr. Park.

We are pleased to inform you that Y/N Park, Jimin Park, Jungkook Jeon and Hoseok ‘J-hope’ Jung all have been accepted into the academy. Their classes will begin in exactly three days from now at the Puck Building in New York City. Each of your trainees must bring two suitcases of personal belongings and only one weapon, so choose wisely.

See you soon

You were in complete and utter shock. The academy was the dream, only the best trainees and children of the most feared mobsters in the world got to go there. It was an honor and a privilege, it was the place where lifelong alliances were built, and enemies were created.

Both you and the boys had never really doubted that you would get in, after all you were one of the largest mafias in all of Asia. But now the day was finally here, the dream had come true.

You took the letter and gave it back to the two boys before you ran up the stairs to get out of the practice room. You needed to talk to Hoseok, and you needed to talk to your dad.

There was no doubt in your mind that Jungkook had stolen the letter from your father’s office. But then again if you had been the one to spot the black and gold envelope, there was no way in hell you would have waited until nightfall to get the news.

It had been a tradition in your family, that the leader would host a dinner to celebrate the young men and women who had been accepted into the school. But the four of you were the best assassins, spies and most skilled in combat your gang had seen in generations. So, there was no way in hell tradition was gonna hold down the criminals inside you all.

You ran down the hall from the gym as quickly as your feet could carry you until you stumbled through the door to Hoseok’s room. Inside you found him splayed out in bed, in the arms of this week’s bimbo as Jimin called them. But then again who wouldn’t love to lay beside the legendary assassin J-hope?

You didn’t care if he had another woman in bed, you didn’t care that the two of them were most likely naked. All you cared about was sharing the best news of both of your lives with your partner in crime. So you jumped down in bed between the two of them, waking both of them up by the sudden need of air in their lungs.

You heard a yell from the women beside you as she rolled out of the bed and landed with a loud bang on the floor. All Hoseok did was grunt annoyed at you, before he pulled you close to him, inhaling the smell of your hair in the process.

“Why are you waking me up at this hour, you know I work late?” He was known for being a grumpy ass in the morning, and today was no exception. “And why the hell do you come into my bed and disturb my sleep, smelling like this?” He pulls back to look you in the eyes, and his filled with disgust.

“Jesus Hobi, be nice! I was in the middle of practice.”

“Well if you were in the middle of your precious practice, why the fuck didn’t you finish it and let me sleep for two more hours?”

You didn’t even know how to begin, so you just looked at him with the biggest smile, as you bit your bottom lip trying to contain the laughter that threatened to spill out into the room.

It was a rare sight, you acting giddy, you losing your words. But Hoseok knew better than to push you for information, that usually just ended with you beating his ass and him being blue and yellow for the rest of the week. So instead he waited, as he lost himself in your eyes. 

On the floor beside the bed you could hear the girl slowly coming to her senses, as she pulled herself up, looking down at the woman who had pushed her out of bed before six in the morning. You knew she wouldn’t be thrilled about it, but the fact that she even got to sleep in Hoseok’s bed was impressive, he usually kicked them out after the deed was done.

“Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She had a high-pitched voice, instantly annoying you. She tried her best to hide her naked form behind the slight sheer cover she held up to cover her.  

“Dana shut up, will you?” He didn't even take the time to look at the woman, you were all he saw as he tried to figure out what news could be important enough to have you acting like this. 

You slowly looked up at the woman who towered over the two of you, and all you saw was the pout she elegantly had displayed on her face to try and win just a little sympathy from the man beside you. When that didn’t work, she tried yet another method.

“Baby if you kick her out then maybe we can go again?” you rolled your eyes, a little afraid they might get stuck back there if she kept going. But he did nothing, said nothing, he just looked at you and, in the end, she gave up, gathered her things and left the two of you alone in the room.

After an intense staring contest, one that once again ended the instant the thought of kissing you crossed his mind. He got out of bed to get dressed instead. He sat up in the bed as you rolled over to look up into the ceiling. You could hear the slow and lazy footsteps he took towards the two double doors that lead to his walk-in closet. A yawn escaped him as he stretched his arms above his head, to get the blood flowing in his tired and worn out body.

“So, what news is so important that I couldn’t wait?” You could hear him go through the drawers as he spoke.

Your head was filled with both pride and joy, but the words wouldn’t get out. Instead you giggled like a crazy person.

“What is it? Why are you laughing?” The t-shirt he pulled over his head was muffling the sound of his voice, which meant it was safe for you to face him once again. You sat up and turned towards the double doors as you crossed your legs in the soft bed.

“We got in Hobi…” It was almost a whisper and you continued: “We leave in three days, can you believe it? The day has finally come!” You clapped your hands as you watched him walk towards you.

“You’re kidding? Who got in? All of us?” You nodded your head and intertwined your hands with each other, squeezing with all the strength in your body. Because if this was a dream you needed to wake up now.

He sprinted towards you and tackled you back into bed as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Your arms held him close in a hug as you both laughed. It was emotional to be the one to tell him the news. You knew that he would get scolded by the rest of the boys who lived in his hall later on for waking them with his screams, but he didn’t seem to care. The happiness and pride of this achievement made the screams called for, and as soon as they knew they’d agree. 

The two of you had talked about this day since you were four and his father had brought him into the manor for the first time. Hoseok’s father was your dad’s right-hand man, and because of this you grew up together and trained together. You had shared everything together, hell he even lived in your house.

“Oh my god, this is insane! It’s completely insane! But wait… How the hell do you know?” Hoseok had a puzzled expression as he looked into your eyes.

“Well… Jungkook might’ve been snooping around in dad’s office, and there he might’ve found the acceptance letter”

You knew how much he hated to go against your father. Dae-Hyun or Papa Park as you and Jimin sometimes called him, had opened his house to both Hoseok and his family. An act Hoseok saw as a privilege and an honor. And unlike you and Jimin, it was kind of hard to be a teenager and a rebel against the man who was not only your boss, but one of the most powerful mafia leaders in this world.

“One day that boy is gonna end up being killed for all the stunts he pulls” He shook his head at your younger friend, but the smile refused to leave his lips.

“I know… But don’t worry I’m going to find pops as soon as I’m done with you and fill him in on the situation. After all he might want to do the dinner anyways” You shrugged your shoulders a little.

“Look at you being the responsible leader Y/N!” He hit your shoulder playfully as you laughed at his statement.

“Well I might as well start to take my role seriously now. No need to wait, you know?” You bit your bottom lip as you started to twirl the golden ring that was displayed on one of your fingers.

Hoseok stood up from the bed and looked down on you with loving eyes. You were the woman he could never have, the person he’d always protect and follow blindly into any battle.

“So tell me… What do I need to pack?”

After a long discussion with Hobi about just which outfits he should pack, and an even longer one with what sniper rifle he should bring to the States, you were off to see your dad.

You skipped down the corridors of the giant manor, saying hi to everyone you met on your way, until you’d finally reached your fathers office. He had an open-door policy for both you and the boys so instead of knocking you busted through the door.

He was sitting behind the giant mahogany desk, reading the reports from both spies and distributors that had been piling up in the dark hours of the night. He looked powerful in this setting. High ceilings, big windows, expensive suit and of course with an expensive bottle of whiskey nearby.

He looked up from his papers for a brief moment, only to discover you were already walking towards him. He slowly laid down his pen, as he sent you a gentle smile. In front of the desk were two leather chairs who faced him, and as usual you placed yourself in the left one.

“Hello sweet daughter, what can I do for you today?” He spoke like the man in power he was, his voice was deep and intimidating, even when he wasn’t trying to be. But then again it was a given when you were in his position.

You didn’t respond and just moved around nervously in the chair as you fiddled with the golden ring that rested on your pinkie on your left hand. Just like your tattoo it displayed your rank in the family business, as you liked to call it.

“I know what Jungkook did Y/N, there’s no need to beat around the bush” You quickly looked up from the ring, your face displaying the surprise you felt, and your heart started to beat faster as he continued his speech: “I have security and cameras everywhere in this house, you really think anything goes missing without my permission?”

He now had a smirk on his lips, and you could see the spark in his eyes. Your father was a cruel man to those who deserved it, and a stern leader to almost everyone. Except to a chosen few. To you he was kind, playful at times, and almost always with a smile on his face and that incredible kind spark in his eyes. Unless you talked business of course.

You laughed before you answered him.

“I thought you might’ve figured it out by now. I hoped you hadn’t, because it would’ve been nice to be the one to surprise you for once”

He put away his reading glasses and stood up. Slowly walking to the other side of his desk as he sat down on the edge, both hands resting beside him.

“Well… One day you might be able to, but not quite yet Blade…” His smile was as kind as always as he said your nickname. “… But judging from your smile I guess the academy had great news?”

You didn’t know it was possible to feel prouder or happier than you already were, but the feeling that slowly blossomed in your chest was nothing you’d ever felt before. You could feel the tears in your eyes as you smiled at the man you admired most in this world.

“We all got in, all four of us” Your voice cracked a little, but you did not care for a single second. The two of you had talked about this day since you’d held your first katana. And to share the good news with the man that had made you the woman you were today, meant everything to you.

He stood up from his spot and walked towards you, arms stretched open to give you the bear-hug he knew you needed. And you walked right into his arms and let the tears roam free.

“I’m so proud of you Blade, of all of you.” He whispered into your hair before he placed his hands on either side of your face and pulled you away from his chest, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a kiss on your forehead as you laughed a little. “But I never doubted any of you, I trained you to be the best, not ordinary, so of course they want you all” 

You rarely showed people your emotions. It wasn’t that it was a sign of weakness, but being a girl high placed in the mafia, people would use anything to gain the upper hand in this game you called life. It was like every other corporation, typically a patriarchy. A typical tradition because men had this idea that women couldn’t be ruthless, that they couldn’t handle the power, that they couldn’t handle the bloodshed. Luckily for you, your family didn’t share that view, and neither did the rest of the crew under your father. 

You cleared your throat as he finally let go of you, looking into your happy eyes as his own filled with pride.

“I’m sorry if we ruined the dinner though”

He laughed at that statement and turned around to once again find his rightful place behind his giant desk. “Now call those boys in here I need to have a chat with you all before it all goes down tonight, because we all know you’ll be too hungover tomorrow to come if I call a meeting then”

You raised an eyebrow, your way of saying: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Don’t give me that look Y/N, we’ve been down that road before. That being said, you need to shower first”

You shrugged, he wasn’t wrong.

After an amazing breakfast you went back to your room, quickly ridding yourself of your workout clothes to hop into a steaming hot shower. You stood there for a few minutes and wondered just how your life would look in a few weeks’ time.

Would you be able to create new alliances, or would it end up being impossible because you’re a woman? It was very rare that women were in powerful positions in the mafia, and even rarer that they were the first in line for the throne. And the more you thought about it the more anxious you got. It might not be a problem at home, where your people knew just how you were raised to rule, but you needed to prepare yourself for every reaction in the book. 

You turned on the cold water to get the negative thoughts out of your system, your way of clearing your head, at least for the time being. Once again it worked like a charm. After a good cleanse of both hair, body and mind, you left to start your morning routine.

Because this was a special day, you knew you needed a little extra than just the regular black dior outfit. You did your makeup and dressed in an elegant black suit. 

The black flared pants hugged your body in all the right places and displayed your curves just how you liked it. The blazer that matched gave you no waist and therefore you styled it with a belt with gold hardware to match the jewelry you wore. Just to give it a little something extra. Your hair was slicked back and your face open for the world to see the beauty of your jawline and cheekbones.

Stilettos were something you loved dearly, and almost always wore when you didn’t workout. You had mastered running in everything from 1-15cm, something all the men found very impressive. The red bottom Louboutins had therefore been a part of your outfits for a few years now. 

You looked into the mirror, pleased with the woman who looked back at you. You looked like you were in charge and knew what was going on around you, you looked like you belonged in this world that was mostly dominated by men. You looked lethal and beautiful all in one. 

You twisted your ring once as you took a deep breath. Afterwards you rolled up your sleeves to display your tattoo. 

Two knocks on your door pulled you out of your daydreaming. Jimin and the boys were here, and as you opened you almost had to take a step back before their jaws hit the floor before you.

The three men, your three so-called besties, looked you up and down, but none of them spoke. Nervous about their reaction you spun the ring around your fingers as you looked at them with a shy smile.

“What’s wrong? Do I have something in my face?” You laughed a little as you smiled wide at the three men who stood before you.

“N-no, no, no, no! Not at all you just… You look hot!” Jungkook said as he gave you a wink and licked his lip like a man starved.

“Duuuude! That’s my sister stop it!” Jimin hit his chest as he whisper yelled at him.

“I know that! But look at her!” He gestured towards you with both hands.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and shot one hip to the side, as you poked your cheek from the inside using your tongue, the very best indicator for when someone pissed you off.

Hoseok rolled his eyes and kissed your cheek. “You look beautiful and deadly” and afterwards pushed the boys out of the way and down the hall to make room for you. 

“Stop drooling and start walking before your future boss kicks your ass in a hallway. Besides we’re already late” He pointed towards the door at the end of it that led to your dad’s office, your arm snaked around his.

Hoseok always loved to have you like this, on his arm. To those who didn’t know you, you could look like a couple, and sometimes he liked to daydream of how things could be, if he was just a man and you were just a woman. Maybe then he could love you boldly, openly, publicly. 

As the two younger boys stumbled towards the door, he looked at you. A small but genuine smile on his lips as his eyes sparkled.

Jungkook and Jimin had bolted right through your fathers office doors, not a care in the world or a thought on their minds. Most likely startling him in the process. Both you and Jimin sat down in your chairs as Hoseok rested against the back of yours and Jungkook stood by the windows, looking out into the courtyard.

“I’m glad you all made it on time, this way we won’t be late for dinner” He said as he opened the carafe with gin and poured you a glass over ice. You had never liked whiskey the same way the boys had, and therefore he had made sure that there was something you enjoyed in his office. 

You thanked him as you grabbed the glass from his hands, and he continued to pour the remaining men in the room a glass of the golden liquid. And then he began his speech.

“First of all, I wanna say how proud I am of each and every one of you, you deserve this… More than any other. So, cheers to you.” He raised his glass, and you all followed his example as he continued.

“In two days’ time you’ll arrive in New York to attend the academy, and the next year will be both physically and mentally draining. When you step into those grand halls only three rules apply.” You all looked at each other with a smirk, rules never applied to you so why should it now? The response you got from him was there for a stern look, he meant business.

He continued: “and they are so basic even you four should be able to follow them. Rule number one, you are only allowed to bring one weapon. Rule number two, no killing, there will be plenty of time for that in the years to come. You are allowed to fight though, but that’s it! Rule number three, you are not allowed to leave.”

You could see Jungkook’s dramatic eye roll from where you were seated. “So they are just gonna lock us up?”

You sighed.

“You are allowed to leave the complex Jungkook, don’t be stupid” The boys laughed, and you did your best to hold back a chuckle. “You are just not allowed to leave New York unless you are given an assignment outside the city”

All that left his mouth was an almost silent grunt, as he turned around to join you all in the small circle in the middle of the room.

“So what now? Is it time for the party?” Hoseok said with hopeful eyes.

“Not quite yet, first it’s time for the gifts” You all looked confused at each other, no one had ever said anything about getting gifts at this thing.

“Dad, what? I mean thanks I guess, but really you shouldn’t have…” Jimin started the sentence but was quickly interrupted.

“I know I shouldn’t have. But you are my children, all of you” Jungkook moved his weight from one foot to the other as he stared down into the ground, blush silently creeping over his face.

He walked away from all of you, pulling a book from the massive bookcase in the room that opened up to the secret room that was your dads private and secret armory. He disappeared into the darkness and was back a few seconds later with a massive duffle back.

You all moved closer to peek into the bag, trying to see exactly what he was planning to surprise you with. The first thing he pulled out was a sniper rifle, or to be precise a M24. It was midnight black with golden tiger stripes clinging to the barrel. You turned your head as you looked at Hoseok, he loved that gun, and his eyes were sparkling as he slowly extended his hands out towards it.

“This is yours J-hope, you have always made me proud so don’t make me regret that I’ve officially given you your stripes now” Your father winked at him as he handed him the rifle. Hoseok was still in awe as he traced the golden stripes with his fingers. A small thank you escaped his mouth, as he walked away from the table, still looking at the rifle as a love crazed thirteen-year-old.

“Jungkook” The boy beside your father suddenly stood a little taller.

“I know you don’t use guns and that you prefer to fight with your hands. But there’s no way in hell I’m sending you to a school full of killers and liars without a weapon.” He pulled a knife out of the bag, golden handle and once again the stripes were to be found on this one as well. He took the handle and expected it in silence.

“For you son I have two things, and don’t worry, I’ve already talked to the school and because they are a set you are allowed to bring it with you”

Jimin smirked and his eyes narrowed as he looked at your father.

“You didn’t?!”

“Oh, but I did”

He pulled out a ‘Beretta 92FS’ with a matching silencer, again painted black in golden tiger stripes. One weapon but two parts so technically he wouldn’t break any of the rules the academy had set. Clearly there had to be a point with all these matching weapons. Your brother hugged your father tightly, making your heart flutter at the sweet moment they now shared before you would be gone for who knows how long.

“I’m so proud of you my son, I hope you know that” his hand rested on Jimin’s cheek, as he looked deep into his eyes.

“I know pops”

“Good… and last but not least!”

Instead of pulling your weapon from the bag, like he did with the others, he went back into the armory.  When he returned, he had a katana with him, but this wasn’t just any katana. It was tradition in the East-Asian mafias that the heir to the throne had one, it was a display of power, just as your ring and tattoo. It showed people you were the one in charge, and that you were the one they needed to fear, to respect. 

The holster was black, everything about this sword was as dark as your soul. Except for a small pendant that hung from the end of it. A solid gold tiger. You pulled it from its holster revealing the sharp blade. You swung it around just to get a feel of it, and it was perfectly balanced for your body.

“I have given you all weapons that link you to each other, weapons that show everyone you’ll meet where you belong. I know each and every one of you will make me proud in your own way, and I’m excited to see what this journey will bring for every one of you. Make more allies than enemies, be only cruel to those who deserve your wrath. Most of those you’ll meet are beneath you so don’t waste your time… But for now, go, you deserve this party, you deserve one last night of bad decisions before you go into the world as my representation”

You all nodded, straightening your backs, looking forward as if you were ready to fight the world in this moment. You all left your father behind in the office, and when the door was finally closed behind you a squeal of happiness and laughter erupted in the halls. Making the old man smile behind the once again closed doors.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Spoiled house husband cat!hybrid that spends all day napping, curled up by a window so he can feel the warm sun.

When you get home, the house is always clean and dinner is ready, and your husband is ready to be praised and pampered for working so hard…

In reality he sleeps so much that the house stays clean besides needing to be swept and dusted occasionally, and he’s good at cooking quick and delicious meals. But… even then, there’s a good chunk of the day that you aren’t aware of his whereabouts…

So you pamper his cute self, buying him good food, cuddling him as much as he wants, and of course letting him breed you to his hearts content.

He’ll spend hours lazily rutting into your pussy while he kneads your belly, his face buried in your neck so he can inhale your scent. It’s just too much, thinking of how round and heavy you’ll be with his kittens, he end up cumming so much…

It’s not like he doesn’t have money, he pays half the bills… you’re just not sure where her gets it from.

So when you get pregnant, it’s his turn to become a doting husband, cooing over your pregnant belly and butting his head against it affectionately. You can’t push him away.

You know how cats get all stiff when you try to make them do something you don’t want them to? Yeah, he does that when you push him to make him stop licking and nuzzling your belly. It tickles, damn it!

It’s a little too late to think of what to do when you realize he’s been out your house husband is actually a trained assassin that takes on jobs to help pay the bills and make sure his beloved mate is never in need of anything.

That’s why he’s so lazy when you get home, he’s just so sleepy and wants to curl up with his mate after a long day!

You can’t even think about what to do, you’re too busy being fucked silly by your husband. He can’t keep his hands off of you while you’re heavy and swollen with his kittens, only stopping once you’re too pregnant for safe sex.

For now, you’ve become the housewife while you’re pregnant… and your husband will always take care of you~

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans

[curryshesus]

bts fics that give me life in a drought

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2

didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!

➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi

| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k

mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series

>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"

this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm

➺ novocaine - by @kinktae

| jimin x reader |

1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."

➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo

| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k

angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot

>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."

ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.

➺ take five - by @jiminrings

| yoongi x reader | 10k

angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning

summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."

➺ page turner - by @gukslut

| taehyung x reader | 13.6k

teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst

summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."

my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.

➺ bloom- by @hobidreams

| namjoon x reader | 20.7k

assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff

>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."

➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit

| seokjin x reader | 29k

modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy

>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

| jungkook x reader | 22k

friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst

>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."

➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie

| taehyung x reader | 19.1k

dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au

>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"

[whyse7vn]

CARDBOARD BOX -

[ ot7 x reader ]

BTW ☠️😂

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

hobi: thinking about when we all lived together and jimin would make jungkook tap dance for food

jk: good times :D

namjoon: but jungkook cant tap dance?

jimin: exactly

namjoon: so you starved jungkook?

jk: no i tapped??

jin: horribly

jk: :(

tae: i liked it

jk: honestly 🥺?

tae: honestly

jk: :D

hobi: why is joon acting like he wasn’t there to witness it???

namjoon: sorry

i just tend to block out the traumatic memories i have with you guys

which is most of them

jin: jungkook was the one dancing for food not you

namjoon: being a witness to that was traumatic

yoongi: it was funny

jk: thank u

yoongi: no

namjoon: moving on

y/n: remember when jungkook would like disappear for 4 hours everyday and come back to the dorms at like 5 am

hobi: OMG YES

jimin: the era where he hated us 😪

yoongi: bring it back

jk: i didn’t hate you guys ☹️

tae: he was just getting his dick wet don’t worry about it

namjoon: he was barley 16?

tae: pussy slayer since 05 😝

namjoon: 05??

yoongi: he was 7 in 05

jin: victim since 05

jimin: jin was like 27 in 05

jin: ??unprovoked

and not fucking true

jimin: as long as you’re alive i’m provoked

y/n: 27 in 05 is crazy

jimin: i’m saying like 😭

hurry up and die maybe?

hobi: bros 31 ☠️

namjoon: ok stop guys

jin: fucking hate all of you

jk: omg it’s raining outside i’m so sad :((

tae: my fault stepped outside and mother nature just couldn’t contain herself

she freaky like that

hobi: paying for ur assassination

jk: what does that even mean

tae: the sky squirting for me bro

jk: oh

that’s nice didn’t know that was possible !!

can you make her stop tho

tae: tell namjoon to step outside and she’ll stop

namjoon: ???

tae: it will be hot and dry as shit if joon steps out ong

jk: namjoon pls step outside

namjoon: kook you need to stop taking tae’s word for things

jk: what

i take no words

i have my own

namjoon: nvm

y/n: life would be so much fun if one of you was a crack addict

jin: ????

yoongi: freak

hobi: real

jimin: namjoon is right here like….

namjoon: leave me ALONE

jk: i’ll be a crack addict for you

tae: i’ll be a better addict

jk: NO YOU WONT

tae: YES I WILL

y/n: shut up

jk: sorry ☺️💕💖

tae: i could so break jungkook’s legs

jk: ☹️

how will i tap?

hobi: you don’t need to tap anymore kook

ur free from that life

y/n: tap by taeyong

jimin: he may be free from tapping in this life but is the tapping life free from him?

yoongi: what

jimin: mentally jungkook is still my little tapping slut

jk: aw man ://

namjoon: did you need to call him a slut??

can we just be nice

jimin: yes i needed to call him a slut

he’s a slut

tae: he was sixteen tapping for you

ur calling a sixteen year old a slut

guys i think jimin is really weird for that actually

jk: me 2

jimin: so?????

you literally said he was fucking at 16 you indirectly called him a slut too

jk: right !!!!

tae: UMM NO???

i called him a pussy slayer actually

and that could mean anything

jk: like what?

tae: shut up jungkook

jk: ok

i’m sorry

it’s still raining

i’m upset

jin: anyways i think yoongi could be nicer

yoongi: ?????

y/n: yoongi’s great

jin: TO YOU

yoongi is actually really really mean and we need to talk about it

jk: i also think yoongi’s great !!

when i was sad about getting old and sick he told me i probably won’t get cancer and most likely die from getting stabbed at 30 on the 12th of december 3pm

namjoon: oh

y/n: yoongi….

yoongi: no cancer !!

jk: NO CANCER ^0^ !!!!!!

tae: yoongi being cold and mysterious will only get you so far in life

jk: yoongi don’t be cold

🔥🔥🔥

here

y/n: jungkook ur so silly

where are you

i want to bite you

jk: 😳

OMW HOME I PROMISE

WON’T BE LONG I SWEAR

jimin: take me back to the days where you had to buy bitches 46 plots of land and a horse to get pussy

i can’t do this being dumb ass hell shit

hobi: maybe ur just ugly idk??

jimin: ????

yo wtf

hobi????????????

hobi: who said that not me whatttt?

jin: that’s why taemin has jimin blocked

jimin: HE DOES NOT HAVE ME BLOCKED

yoongi: woah ok?

jimin: just saying

anyways

jin: ur ugly 😂

jk: beauty is subjective

yoongi: do you even know what that means?

jk: yes ofc ??

maybe…

no 😔

tae: subjective sex

namjoon: stop

tae: SUBJECT SEX

i class i would love to participate in

y/n: is this you telling us you don’t know how to have sex???

tae: NO

this is me telling you i love sex and partake in it often

hobi: stds

jk: i’m confused

why do you want to take a class on it then ???

y/n: right

you wanting to take a sex class implies you know little on the subject of sex actually

tae: SHUT THE HELL UP

jimin: nothing about my beauty is subjective btw

it’s fact

jin: that ur ugly

yoongi: lol

jimin: namjoon tell them i’m not ugly

namjoon: guys he’s not ugly

jin: he’s really ugly

y/n: namjoon tell tae to stop shouting

namjoon: taehyung stop shouting

tae: NO

NAMJOON TELL KOOK AND Y/N I KNOW HOW TO FUCK

namjoon: kook y/n taehyung knows how to fuck

hobi: namjoon i wont lie to you but u lowkey a bitch

jin: right

namjoon: thank you for that hobi and jin i also love you very much

jk: ohmygod joon loosing his mind again

that is NOT what they said

joon come back to us

fight this namjoon fight it

hobi: fighting by bss

yoongi: who fighting?

jimin: joon and his crippling coke addiction

coke winning

namjoon: can we not

tae: i’ll laugh when you overdose

y/n: exo core

namjoon: i just helped you what is ur issue??

jin: do you notice how yoongi appeared again when the word fighting was said????

we NEED to have this man locked up i’m telling you

yoongi: i’ll have you sectioned

jin: WHAT THE FUCK?????

NAMJOON TELL HIM TO TAKE THAT BACK

namjoon: yoongi take that back

please

yoongi: i take it back

jin: good

yoongi: not

jk: yikes jin he got you

yoongi ur really cool

yoongi: shut up

jk: sorry 😆

y/n: stop being mean

yoongi: cant help it :3

tae: who wants to see me split a watermelon with one hand

jk: ME ME

OHMYGOD ME I DO I DO

I WANT TO SEE

PLEASE SHOW ME PLEASE BEOFRE I PASSED OUT PLEASE

PICK ME TAE I WANT TO SEE ME MEMEMEMEMEMEMMEMEME

hobi: tae how is ur financial situation these days

tae: kill yourself

hobi: ok wtf???

i was just asking

tae: jungkook im sorry but no broken watermelon today blame hoseok

jk: hobi what the hell man i was really looking forward to the broken watermelon

y/n: i heard tae filed for bankruptcy

tae: NOT TRUE

jimin: i heard he lives in a cardboard box

tae: SHUT UP I DONT

jk: tae omg……… 😧

is this true

tae: NO OBVIOUSLY NOT

YOU WERE AT MY HOUSE YESTERDAY

AND I ORDERED US FOOD

jk: pls dont shout at me

i’m trying to remember if your house was a cardboard box or not

jimin: (it was)

tae: NAMJOON

namjoon: guys

jimin: ur no fun

y/n: sorry 😔

tae: yeah

you guys better be sorry

stupid idiots

jimin: shut up broke boy

namjoon: jimin please

jimin: whatEVER

tae: namjoon i don’t say this a lot because normally it wouldn’t be true but man i love you

guys i think me and namjoon were married in our past lives

cuz like were so in tune with each other

like he just gets me

i get him

i believe in every life we find each other

like we get married in every single life except this one

namjoon: no offence but in every life i would find you and divorce you if that were true

tae: oh

y/n: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO

yoongi: lol

jimin: no i see it the crack addict and the broke bitch love story

tae: at least someone gets it

nvm

should of read the whole message first

u guys are just closed minded

im telling you me an namjoon are like super alike someone thought i was him yesterday and he was so real and right for that

jk: i thought you said that guy that called you rm in the park yesterday was a racist not real or right

tae: jungkook

jk: yeah ^0^

tae: stop talking rn

jk: okay😵

hobi: cocaine is like really expensive how would tae and joon work out

tae wont be able to help feed into joons addiction

y/n: why do you know that cocaine is expensive

hobi: i know a lot of things that just happenes to be one of them

jimin: if you think about it when have you ever seen a crackhead be like nah im not gonna have crack today

they make that shit happen no matter what

and i think thats what attracts tae and joon together

like joon will do anything and everything to get his fix and tae would do anything and everything to have a place to sleep so their hardworking nature is what leads them to love

yeah

jin: ok !!!!!!

jimin i think you need a hobby or something

that was…. a lot

yoongi: shut up

jin: WHAT DID I DO???? AM I WRONG OR DID YOU ACTUALLY ENJOY JIMINS MINI FANFIC LIKE?????????

yoongi: i’ll punch you

jin: and i believe that!

shutting up #now

hobi: i wish i was mark lee rn

he probably doing something really canadian as we speak

jk: like what?

hobi: idk being nice

jimin: you called me ugly five minutes ago

you could never be mark lee

hobi: that literally wasn’t me i have no idea what ur talking about sorry i’m actually mark lee rn so i fr don’t know what ur talking about dude sorry dude i have to go on stage and dance with nct 127 now and then i have vocal practice with nct dream right after so i’m sorry dude i like have zero idea what ur talking about like actually like a sticker 2 baddies beatbox

me as mark lee and scene

jk: 10/10 really believable idk mark lee but i really though you were him for a second

y/n: great performance thought mark was here fr almost kissed you passionately on the mouth

yoongi: what

hobi: thank u thank u

you can still kiss me tho haha lol as mark or not idm

y/n: ok omg come here!!!

hobi: FR?????

y/n: no !!!!!!

but i did imagine us kissing like last week for like five seconds

hobi: yesssss 🙌 😝

a win is a win

yoongi: its not a win

she threw up at the thought

y/n: no i didn’t

yoongi: yes you did

you told me

y/n: i DID’NT

stop trying to gaslight me

it wont work

tae: have you imagined me naked

jimin: liked it better when you weren’t talking

tae: i liked it when YOU weren’t talking

jimin: shut the fuck up

jin: how about you both shut the fuck up

jimin: now why are YOU talking again

yoongi beat the shit out of him

yoongi: nah dont want to

the thought of his face isn’t pissing me off anymore

jin: thank you <3

yoongi: i could punch hoseok tho

hobi: no thank you ???

y/n: yoongi has a framed picture of all of us on his bedside table that he hides whenever you all come over in case you find it

he also has each one of our debut photocards in a small little binder in his studio in a little safe

yoongi: not true bye

yoongi left “BTW☠️😂”

y/n added yoongi to “BTW☠️😂”

y/n: very true very real seen them with my very two eyes

yoongi: you wear glasses

that you don’t actually wear

so who knows what u be seeing

that is NOT true

y/n: i wear glasses to READ and you know that

so shut up

guys yoongi would punch none of you because he loves you very much ok? 😍💖💯

tae: yoongi do you kiss our picture goodnight be honest

yoongi: fuck off actually

namjoon: thats very sweet yoongi

we love you too

jin: i DON’T

i fear my life when i’m around yoongi picture by his bed or not

i’m shaking in my boots i’m scared

yoongi: pussy

jin: i’m telling you ever since he broke that poor woozi guys nose i have not looked at him the same

y/n: ok but that was a mistake right yoongi

yoongi: ?

y/n: it was

and besides has yoongi broken your nose?

jin: no but it’s coming

i know it

yoongi: true

jk: i feel safe around yoongi

yoongi: you shouldn’t

jk: because he hasn’t broken my nose

but jimin did punch me once

jimin: dont bring up my past

hobi: if we think about it jimin should be locked up

jungkook you can press charges you know?

jimin: CAN WE NOT TALK ABOUT ME AND WHAT I’VE DONE

like we were talking about how yoongi actually love us

lets get back to that

yoongi: jimin should be put behind bars

jimin: yoongi loves us

yoongi: jimin is a bully

jimin: YOONGI LOVES US

tae: i love you back yoongi

yoongi: kill yourself

jimin is a literal bully like actually

jimin: and ur a fake one cuz u love us

jk: jimin you are bully

yoongi: ur right jungkook

you are so right

jimin: jungkook yoongi loves you

that’s why he’s agreeing with you

jk: i love you too yoongi ^0^

yoongi: jungkook jimin is bullying you

has been since you were 16

jk: ohmygod……..

jimin: jungkook yoongi has a photocard of you that he’s probably decorated and everything just cuz he cares so deeply about you

jk: he does????????

namjoon: ok both of you stop

jimin you ARE a bully

and yoongi its ok that you actually like us you should stop pretending you don’t

jimin: I AM NO BULLY

yoongi: i like not one of u 😒

namjoon: yeah ok

jk: GUYS OHMUGOD

tae DOES LIVE IN A CARDBOARD BOX I REMEMBER NOW 🤯🤯😨

tae left “BTW☠️😂”

—

think of this as a flash back/ forward idk of the good happy times ok? ok thank u >_<

sorry for the shit ending i just really like the first part and wanted to post

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks

[staytinyville]

Burn It (Pt. 1)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Eventual!Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Namjoon x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi, 

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household, 

↣ A/N: Honestly I always get inspired by all the historical stories on here and I just really wanted to sit my ass down to write. Part two might just have smut y’all so tell me if you want lmao. Also can you please tell me what you guys think of my writing? I don’t know I want to publish sometime soon but like if I suck at writing why bother.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Tags: @anyamaris , @kpop-stories-21

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You usually slept on your back, worried about the day someone came into your room to do something. It was all you ever thought about the moment you were told why your parents truly made you the queen. 

You weren’t a light sleeper by any means, so you knew the moment someone stepped into your room something was going to happen. It wasn’t one of your guards who would announce their presence or even your family who you knew the staff would call out to you the moment they slammed the door open. 

You didn’t dare to move. Not when you could hear their steps in the room that were clearly trying to be quiet. Anyone who wasn’t trained to listen in to their surroundings were bound to be caught off guard by whoever it was. However after spending the last few years in fear of being killed in your sleep you taught yourself to pick up on the smallest of things.

You felt them reach the side of your bed, but still you didn’t move. You took in a deep breath, waiting for them to strike. When you made to move your body just the tiniest of bits, your eyes flew wide open at the person who suddenly had you pinned to your bed–a sharp blade placed against your throat. 

You swallowed softly, looking up into the face of your assassin. The light from outside the room was barely enough, but you could make out the scar that ran along the right side of his face. His cheeks that look round. The band that was tied against his forehead. The blonde hair that was neatly wrapped in a bun.

You didn’t make a sound though, only allowing your eyes to follow along his face. You could tell that after a moment, he began to grow confused, his eyebrows pulling together and head tilting to the side. 

You made no show of trying to fight him off. You didn’t even breathe harshly. Instead he watched as your eyes scanned over his face, eyes glittering in the moonlight that showed through the curtains. It left him baffled as you kept an even expression to it all.

“Why aren't you terrified?” He asked, clenching the blade’s handle. 

“There are things more terrifying than death.” You whispered, catching his attention.

There was a sad expression behind your eyes. He could see it hidden behind your facade. He almost faltered when he came to the realization that you were waiting for him to move the knife. But his resolve came back, quickly shaking his head to clear it.

“Then you should be thankful.” He sneered. 

He pressed the knife deep just barely breaking the skin. But he stopped completely when all you did was fall limply and close your eyes. His breath got caught in his throat, feeling conflicted over the way you were acting. 

He was told about how much of a tyrant the queen was. How she would strike at anyone who dared to even breathe in her direction. She was cruel and followed in her parents footsteps of ruling the kingdom with fear. Those who worked in the castle that were part of the rebellion had all said she was an emotionless person who didn’t even bother to look at when someone was being punished, not bothering to spare them her time. 

She was a menace, someone who didn’t deserve to be on the throne. But yet, here she was under his grip awaiting death to come to her without so much as a fight. She was hiding things behind her eyes that would be released come death. But Yoongi didn’t feel it in his heart to kill someone like that. Someone who was willing to give up their life for something haunting them.

He couldn’t stand to see others that way. Not when he had been there before. 

You felt the blade lose its pressure, opening your eyes to look at him once again. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you questioning me when I have a knife to your neck?” He sneered, pressing the knife back to you.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Quiet.” He growled, slamming a fist into the pillow next to you. 

“Why aren't you calling for help?” He asked, moving to hover above you, his knife next to your head. 

“Who will be there to help me?” You whispered once more in that sad voice. 

“Your grace!” Someone called from outside of your bedroom. 

The man’s head snapped to the direction of the door, hearing the handles begin to twist to signal someone was going to come in. The assassin was quick to jump off the bed and out into the night without so much as a second in between. You rushed out of your bedspread, not caring about being in your nightgown. All you cared about was getting to stop the man. 

“Wait—”

You froze at the bottom of the steps that lead outside, catching as he turned around to face you under a lamp post. You could finally see his face in its entirety. The scar ran along his eye and down to his cheek. You were still as his face seemed to burn itself into your memory. You wanted to call out for him, ask him what he was doing. 

But there was something stopping you. The way he looked at you like he was torn. It was gone in a flash just as he was following the calling of your name from your bedroom. 

“(Y/N)?” You turned to find your personal guard looking around the room for you. “What are you doing outside?” He asked, walking up to you.

“Couldn't sleep.” You spoke softly. 

“What brings you by?” You asked the man, turning to face him. 

“I heard a man's voice. It was hostile.” He looked around the room just to make sure, moving things around that created dark spots.

“You have sharp hearing, Namjoon.” You smiled softly. 

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” You walked closer to him, causing him to look at you. 

You watched as his eyes went wide, hand reaching out to touch your neck. 

“You’re bleeding.” He wiped his thumb along the miniscule cut the man’s knife had left. 

You moved to wipe at it yourself, coming with bloody fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing to yourself. 

“I probably just scratched myself in my sleep.” You told him.

Namjoon was perceptive, but he wasn’t going to question it because he knew you. No matter how much he wanted to care for you when you got hurt, you were someone who kept to themselves. You weren’t going to allow others to know your pain. 

“I’ll clean it for you.” He said. 

You allowed the man to do as he pleased. You suddenly felt much too tired to allow yourself the time to clean up the wound. Besides, you always enjoyed your moments with Namjoon. He had been there since you became the so-called queen. He watched them put the crown on your head. Watched with a harsh breath and flare nostrils as he knew the truth behind it all. 

The only one who did. 

As you felt is large hands press softly into the skin of your neck you almost wanted to flinch at how easy it was for him to actually kill you. There will always be people out there much more skilled than you ever could be. Much more powerful. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you thought about it. You felt useless–like you life was miniscule. And it was in the eyes of your family. You didn’t realize a tear fell down your cheek until Namjoon moved to wipe at it. 

“Are you truly okay, my queen?”

Namjoon’s acknowledgment of your title had you squaring your shoulders, looking at the man with a small smile on your face. 

He was right. You were the queen–the one everyone called her majesty or bowed their heads to when you walked. It wasn’t your parents–your sister who walked with a smaller crown. It was you. Even if your family was the one who told you what to do in the end–you were the one who the kingdom saw as its queen. And you knew it was time to step into that role.

**

The time that passed was a long one. New bruises and wounds turned up on your body–hidden behind the hanbok you would wear. They would never dare to strike you across the face, not when the entire kingdom could see. They had images to keep up and people to boss around. It was their kingdom but you were the one they hated. 

You still walked with your head held high, nose turned up as you tried to remain emotionless. You had learned to perfect the look with all the eyes that followed you everywhere. You didn’t dare to showcase any kind of emotion. You knew if you did they would see it. And they didn’t want their subjects to know the queen was being ruled by fear. 

“Choosing a warrior for the princess is a perfect way of having her protected.” Your father’s general walked alongside the both of you. 

“Here are the fine gentlemen who decided to take up the mantle. It gives the common people a chance as well to be part of the royal court.” He explained looking over the men he had watched train to be the best warriors they could be. 

There were a total of 50 young and older men all standing in rows with hands behind their backs and legs spread to shoulder length. You didn’t bother to look at them because you knew that your family had already chosen you. 

“Thank you, general.” Your father smiled brightly. “We would only want the best for our daughter.”

He turned to you, the grin on his lips making your stomach turn as you tried not to sneer. Your eyes immediately dropped from his face, turning around as you finally began to scan the warriors who suddenly raised their heads at your discretion. 

“Your grace, please be sure to choose wisely. Munhee is your twin sister–she deserves to be protected just as much as you.” He offered in a sickenly sweet tone. 

“Of course, father.” You spoke monotonously. 

You begin to walk through the men, only picking you head up to give them a glance but continuing forward. You could see some of them gulp in worry while others let out breaths from your monotonous look. You were only courteous, meeting some of their eyes in order to make them think you were actually picking on your own. 

You continued on through the rows, trying your best to act like your parents had told you to. But there was a second–just one second–where your facade dropped and you came to stand still. He stood in another row, a bit shorter than those next to him. But he still kept a stoic face–facing forward in the position the general had them all stand. 

He was to the right of you, giving you the opportunity to see the long scar that ran down his face. There was a flutter in your heart that was created by anxiety. But it was fear, it was an anticipation that would lead you to win. 

No one noticed the way you stopped to stare or the way you started to breath harshly. Namjoon had been the only one, eyes moving to scan the crowd as he tried to find what made you stop. Your father continued forward with the general speaking to himself as he thought you were walking alongside him. 

“I hear that Sooyoung is quite the—”

“Him.” You interrupted your father. 

“What?” He stopped, turning around to quickly find who you were looking at. “Who?” 

You moved with calculated steps towards him, but he didn’t move from his position. 

“The one with the scar?” Your father spoke bewildered, glancing between you and the man. “But your grace, you can't possibly want—”

“I'm positive he is more than capable of taking care of Munhee.” You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the man. “He looks like he's been through tough battles.”

“Oh well, I don't remember seeing him during training much.” The general frowned as he squinted his eyes at the scar on the man’s cheek. 

“He does seem to have a memorable enough face.” The  general tsked but moved to turn away and back to the front of the rows of men. “Step forward boy!” 

With one last look at him, you turned to Namjoon who was following closely behind you. You watched him take in a breath, eyes scanning the man over as his eyebrows pulled together. Your face remained emotionless, turning around while lifting your nose up. You could see your father sneering as he began to follow behind you. 

“State your name.” The general asked once all of you made it to the front. 

“Agust.” He spoke deeply.

“What an odd name.” Your father waved off.

“Sounds western.” The general nodded to himself. 

“Are you positive this is the one you will choose your grace?” Your father spoke up. 

You could see the fury behind his eyes, the one that was clearly telling you to back out of the problem you had placed them all in. But you looked at him the same way you always would, not daring to move your head from his stare. You felt Namjoon grow closer to your back, his warmth seeping into your clothes. You moved your hand from under your sleeve–a silent request to tell him everything was okay. 

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate. 

“Very well. The ceremony shall take place later this afternoon.” The general spoke up, humming to himself as he began to gather the other men. 

Yoongi watched as you didn’t give your father another look, walking away quickly with both your father and guard on your heels. Your robe billowed behind you as you fast walked, but he was quick to notice the way your father rushed up to you and caught our arm before the doors to the palace shut behind you all. 

“(Y/N), what is the meaning of this?” Your father sneered, gripping onto your arm tightly. “We decided already who would be the royal guard.”

“I'm sorry—” You flinched, unnoticed by the way you spoke with no emotions. 

Your lips turned downwards, a sneer waiting to overtake your face at the way your father was clutching tightly onto your wrist–enough to know it would be bruised in a little bit. Your hands clenched up, nails wanting to scratch at his arm for hurting you. But it wasn’t the right time.

“We will talk later.” With one last tight squeeze your father threw your arm from his grasp. 

It made you jerk backwards, teeth clenched as you were quick to soothe the ache. 

“Are you alright?” Namjoon walked closer to you, fingers lightly falling down your arm to take a look.

“Yes, I'm fine Namjoon.” You spoke, your emotionless voice causing him to straighten up.

As your gaze landed back on the closed doors the only thing that crossed your mind was the scar along that man’s cheek. There was no mistaking that mark–it was one that seemed to alter your way of thinking all together. You were brought back to the night that he held the knife to your neck. Made you bleed and a small barely noticeable scar being left behind. 

Your hand went up to your neck, feeling the uneven skin under your fingertips. 

“Namjoon, would you protect me if someone was to come and assassinate me?” You suddenly spoke up, looking towards the doors that lead to the courtyard. 

“What kind of question is that?” The man gasped, looking at your incredulously. “Of course I would—with my life.”

“Why?” You said absent mindlessly. 

“Because I am your royal guard—”

“Did you know there are people trying to kill the queen?” You stopped him, turning to face him completely. 

He gulped, watching as you grew closer to him. “Isn't there always? But that won't stop me from protecting you.”

“It's a rebellion, isn't it? People wanting to kill me.” You quietly spoke, watching as his eyes scanned over your face before falling to your neck where he could see the scar. 

His breathing began to grow rapidly, as he tried to come up with an answer. “They don't want to kill you—”

“So you know about it?”

“(Y/N), I swear I know nothing about it—” He began to sputter. 

“Namjoon, you are the only person I can trust in this palace. The only one who knows the truth. And now I want you to be honest with me. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” You demanded. 

He suddenly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your grace. There is a rebellion that is out to kill the queen. But it's not you they are after, it's Munhee. At least the one they're really after is Munhee.” 

There was something that seemed to lift off your shoulder hearing those words. It didn’t make you feel any better however it did make you understand that there were plans that needed to be put into motion. Plans that you were going to accomplish with certain people on your side. 

“(Y/N), did something happen?” He asked.

“That man.” You spoke up. “The one I placed as Munhee’s guard. You know him. I saw it in your face when I chose him.” 

He watched as your nose twitched and your eyes went glassy. “Namjoon, are you part of the rebellion?” 

“Never!” Namjoon shouted, taking a step closer to you. “I could never do you harm or wish for something as cruel as that to come to you. You mean everything to me. I will stop at nothing to protect you from those who wish you harm.”

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment at his confession. His eyes expressed just how much he meant every word. Namjoon was the one person who had been with you since you were a girl hiding in corners from the abuse you would suffer at the hands of your family. He has seen you at your worst. Which means you had to be better for him. 

“Then how do you know him?” You asked. 

“I don’t personally know him. I’ve only ever seen him around the kingdom a couple of times.” Namjoon licked his lips, answering truthfully. 

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. “However, there could be someone who might.”

**

The ceremony wasn’t anything spectacular. Only the army was present and those of the palace staff. After the general proclaimed his speech to those around, he handed you a sword which you took in a tight grip walking forward towards Agust who kneeled at the stop of the stairs. 

“It is an honor to serve the royal family. As royal guard to the princess you shall take up the mantle as her protector.” You prattled off. 

“You shall put your life before hers to guarantee her safety. Do you accept this position?” You spoke loudly, keeping your eyes downcasted on the man who was kneeling in front of you. 

“Yes.” He spoke up, keeping his face down to the ground. 

“I hereby name you a royal guard to princess Munhee. May your sword always be sharp and your will always stay strong.” You ended, making him rise to grip onto the sword you were handing over to him. 

As he reached out for the sword that laid on your palms, your sleeve had moved down your arm, giving him full view of the darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on your wrist. He watched your hand suddenly clench onto the blade of the sword catching his attention and making him look up into your eyes. 

Your face still remained emotionless, but you made a small movement to get him to take the sword. He was quick to take it, bowing his head once more as he began to sheath the blade. Your hands fell to your side, causing the sleeve to fall over your wrist once more. 

There wasn’t much left of the ceremony other than you giving an emotionless speech about how you were grateful to the army for what they did. Once everything ended on a normal tone, the royal family turned around to enter the palace with the new royal guard in tow behind the entire entourage. 

“I can't believe this is the man you appointed!” Munhee screeched. “How stupid can you be!? Haven't you already done enough!?” 

She had been stomping her feet in front of you but quickly turned around to strike you across the face. Your face whipped to the side, not expecting the hit but you didn’t dare to make a sound or move a hand up to cradle your wound.

Yoongi watched with an emotionless face as you seemed to keep up the facade. Your guard was quick to step up to you, getting between you and the so-called princess. Yoongi glared at all of you, eyebrows pulling together at the debacle. 

“You insolent girl. You deserve everything that is coming your way.” She sneered at you.

“Munhee!” The old king sneered. “Do not strike her face!? How many times have we told you!?”

His eyebrows only seemed to pull together deeper, trying to figure out what the whole dynamic was between everyone. It seemed you only remained emotionless as your large guard took your arm softly. 

He didn’t understand what your place was in all of this. You were the queen who was above all of these people. And yet they seemed to take pleasure in screaming at you. You didn’t give any reaction to their words or actions–allowing them to do as they pleased. You were no queen after the whole thing. 

“Namjoon, take her to the healers quickly before she bruises.” Your father turned to your royal guard. “They have to fix it before she goes out in public.”

“Of course.” Namjoon spoke through a clenched jaw, softly pulling you along. 

You didn’t give Yoongi another look, keeping your head up as pieces of your hair fell out of your headpiece and into your face. He watched you leave before turning around as he heard the princess stomp closer to him. 

“Ugly, good for nothing.” The princess sneered, quickly turning from him. “Don't look at me. Your face belongs in a cell.”

The way she had her lips pulled up and nose scrunched up made her look ugly. It seemed she had done that face so much it stuck to her skin. It was clear she was your twin somehow but for some reason Yoongi found himself claiming your face was much easier to look at. 

“Forgive me.” Yoongi spoke monotonously. 

“What do we do with him?” Munhee didn’t pay him any mind, turning to her parents. 

“We'll have Namjoon teach him for now.” The old queen spoke carelessly. “Until we have a reason to get rid of him we can't do much. That would mean forsaking the general and his warriors.”

“Stupid traditions.” Munhee rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep him out of my sight. And give him a mask for when he is. I cannot stand to look at him.” She gave him one last sneer of her lips, stomping away with her parents in tow. 

“Of course.” Some guard for your parents announced. 

He began to walk away, so Yoongi assumed he was to follow after his superior. He was taken out of the back gardens and into another part of the palace. There were curtains that were billowing out of the room that gave it enough breeze. The guard takes Yoongi around the building towards the doors. 

“You may stay here for the time being.” The guard explained, opening the doors to a wide spacious room. 

“I will be sure to inform Namjoon of your whereabouts.” He bowed his head before turning to leave.

Yoongi had assumed he was left alone, watching with a raised brow as the guard seemed to walk away quickly. However when he suddenly felt a presence behind him, he was quick to turn. He watched as a stunning man seemed to tilt his head in confusion at the man. 

He was dressed in a translucent robe that draped down his body. He wore expensive looking jewelry and was cleaned much better than even the royal family themselves. Yoongi could smell the perfumes the man wore from where he stood a good three feet away. 

“New concubine? But no one said anything about it.” He spoke with a deep voice, but his eyes held childish wonder. 

“Concubine?” Yoongi questioned.

“Are you not one?” The man asked, stepping closer to the scarred one. “Isn't that why they brought you here?”

“I was appointed as royal guard to the princess.” Yoongi immediately answered, keeping his stare on the handsome man. 

“Makes more sense.” The concubine nodded to himself, lips forming a perfect pout. “Princess Munhee would never choose you.”

Yoongi suddenly frowned, giving the man an offended look.

“Taehyung, don't be rude.” Someone behind Yoongi spoke up. 

He quickly turned around finding another man dressed the same as the one in front of him. However, this one seemed to have puffier cheeks and shorter in structure. He also carried himself more sensually–confident in what he looked like. 

“I still think you're very handsome.” He smiled softly at Yoongi. “My name is Jimin. This is Taehyung. We are concubines for Princess Munhee.”

Once more the assassin was left confused. Why weren’t they concubines for the queen herself? It wasn’t really known that the princess had some of her own. 

“The princess? Not the queen?” He spoke out loud.

“She doesn't have any.” Taehyung answered. 

“Well except for Jungkook but he's just for show. He says he's never been with her let alone her bedroom. He's still a lucky bastard though.  I wish I was (Y/N)'s concubine.” He pouted, crossing his arms in a childish manner. 

“You like the queen?” Yoongi asked baffled. 

“Like?” Taehyung tilted his head to the side. “I love her! She's so kind and patient. She always treats our wounds after we've been with Munhee. She gives us extra sweets when she comes to see us. Anyone would fall in love with her.” He sighed dreamily.

Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear all that was falling from the poor man’s mouth. He only saw someone who had been brainwashed into thinking the queen was someone kind and nurturing. It did leave him a bit baffled to remember that it was the queen who had been striked across the face by the princess but that didn’t mean her emotionless heart wasn’t real. It was clear by the way she didn't react to the way she was treated. 

“She is a tyrant. How can you stand to live here as concubines? You don't get to see your family and as you said, you get wounds from the princess—”

“Exactly. From the princess.” Jimin interrupted, coming to stand in front of Yoongi. 

Jimin looked at him with squinted eyes that made him look seductive. But his words made it seem like Jimin was waiting for Yoongi to figure everything out. “There are things within the palace that are not correct. You'll find that out soon enough.” He told the man vaguely. 

The door suddenly open and all three men turned to look at who had entered. Taehyung beamed at Namjoon who gave the two concubines a bow of his head. Jimin only gave the man a small smile twirling around to go back to whatever it was he was doing before Yoongi had entered. 

“Agust, please follow me.” Namjoon called for him.  

Yoongi gave the two concubines one last look before following after the larger man. He began to lead him back to the main building, Yoongi trying to memorize the journey. 

“My name is Kim Namjoon—you can call me Namjoon. I am the royal guard to queen (Y/N). We will be working together closely.” He explained. 

Yoongi paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thought about the woman. “The queen—what did they do?”

“They gave her a cold patch.”

He lead Yoongi to another section of the palace that seemed to be full of different kinds of staff. It was close to the rooms of the royal families so Yoongi only assumed it was the building he would be staying in. 

“This is where we stay. We share a room along with the other royal guards.” It was a quick thing before Namjoon took off once more from the guard quarters.  

As Yoongi was looking around, trying to find escape routes or hiding places he didn’t notice Namjoon had come to a stop causing him to bump into the man. 

“What are you doing here? Do you know the risks of getting caught? You should leave before something happens to both you and the queen.” Namjoon quickly spoke, causing Yoongi to look at him oddly. 

Namjoon had a stern expression on his face but he didn’t care to reach out to kill the smaller man. It was clear that Namjoon knew who Yoongi was the moment he came into the palace. Namjoon was someone often spoken about within the group. One of the people who worked within the palace had explained that Namjoon would do anything to protect the queen from harm. 

However he also said that Namjoon would be more than willing to be on their side. It left him at a confused headspace over the bigger man. 

“I know that more than anything what will happen. I have a mission to complete. I can’t go back without results.” Yoongi spoke harshly. 

“For what? A murder that is unjustified?” Namjoon glared. 

“You know as well as everyone else just how justified it really is.” Yoongi retorted.

“I know you’re out to kill the wrong person. If you think you were the only one thinking about infiltrating the palace, you would be wrong.” Namjoon has his arms crossed, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate the scarred man. 

“Namjoon?” A soft voice spoke up behind them. 

“I’m here, your grace.” Namjoon turned around to face you, watching as you walked closer to them with smaller robes that were easier to walk in. 

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You spoke up calmly, staring Yoongi down. 

“Cut the small talk. Why did you choose me?” Yoongi sneered, knowing the three of you were alone from others to keep from saying what he wanted. 

Namjoon glared, about to take a step towards him but you subtly moved your hand out to keep him from getting closer. 

“Did you not want to be chosen? Isn’t that why you infiltrated the army and applied to be the personal guard for Princess Munhee?” You questioned him.

“Why did you select me?” Yoongi pressed again.

You took a moment, irking him as you looked down at him. 

“I don’t know.” You merely shrugged.

“I can kill you right now.” He placed a hand on the sword you had given him, causing Namjoon to reach for his own.

You stopped them though when you walked closer to Yoongi. “You can but it won’t solve your problems.”

“It will solve many.” He sneered. 

“That’s what you think.” You told him.

He felt something in his chest watching you. He knew it was you, knew by the little scar that was under your head from the knick his blade had left months ago. Knew by the way you softly stared at him waiting for his next moves.

However you were different now. Different in the way you spoke—the way you held yourself. It was nighttime then though, he has never seen you before. But speaking with you now it wasn’t the same as the woman who was awaiting death with open arms.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked. 

“Who?”

“The girl who waited for me to move my blade. The one who was hoping I would.” He spoke quietly, keeping you stare.

“I found a better chance.” You told him, speaking in that voice that told him how there were worse things to fear other than death. 

“One that lets me live the way I want. My personal guard will make sure to tell you of your duties. Do not mess it up.” You added sternly.

You turned around, Namjoon giving Yoongi one last harsh stare before turning to follow after you.

** 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you.

“I have suffered my whole life just for others to come and kill me in place of my sister.” You spoke softly looking down at the paper you had been writing on. “I’m done being the decoy they know they need. The plaything they would have their fun with when they were angry.”

You looked up when knocking comes from the door. “I was made the queen. And as far as the kingdom knows I am the Empress who rules. So that is what I will be.”

The double doors open wide as Yoongi struts his way in. Namjoon stands behind you with his hands clasped in front of him. He glanced your way, taking note of how you don’t bother to look up at him. From what the other concubines have claimed of you, Yoongi has yet to see it. 

“Sit.” You tell him, going back to writing a letter. 

He listens to your demand, sitting cross legged in front of your table as he waits for you to say something. It takes another 10 minutes before you do. By then Yoongi had a frown on his face from having wasted time sitting in front you, waiting.

“I have something to ask of you.” You told him.

When all you got was a raised brow, you continued. “I need you to take this to your leader.” You rolled up your letter and pushed it forward towards Yoongi.

“Leader?” He questioned.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” You clenched your jaw. “Someone sent you to kill me. And now I want to send them a letter.”

“Are you mad?” Yoongi scoffed.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But you get tired after so much.” 

There it was again—the jab at your past. The jab in Yoongi’s chest that made him rethink about killing you. It was the suffering he heard in your voice. The one that didn’t care about what happened to them because they had already been through so much. 

“I don’t get it.” Yoongi told you. 

“Don’t get what?” You questioned.

“This!?” He says pointing to the letter you wanted him to send to his leader “Everything around the place. I came here knowing one thing but come to learn it’s not right.” 

“Information can get lost in translation.” You waved him off.

There was so much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with those in the group about the whole thing because he had been training with the army for the past couple of months. All he knew was that the queen was a tyrant who treated the people of her kingdom unfairly. 

But now he wanted to know if he was looking at the right person. 

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demanded.

“What is that?” You asked him.

“That a queen would allow someone beneath her to strike her.” He told you.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You asked him. 

“Not what?”

“Beneath them?” You take a deep breath thinking over something. “At least in their eyes.” 

This made him stop for moment. After witnessing the actions of her family Yoongi came to realize there were things wrong with the royal family. And after hearing the words of those who worked closely with them it was clear that the choice he made of sparing you was one that left his conscious free of guilt. 

“Are you trusting me?” He questioned you, realizing that you were about to tell him the truth.

“You’re going to find out sooner or later. In case you haven’t—I’m not the real queen. I’m only the one who takes the harsh blows of the tyranny my family causes. I’m just their scapegoat.” You explained. 

“If you do your job right there should be no consequences. You have my word.” You told him.

“Which job?” He questioned. 

“You should know which one, Min Yoongi.”

Pt. 2 Y’all? Be sure to apply to my permenant taglist so you can be added to Pt. 2 if I come out with it lol.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @cryingpages , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @kenzie203 , @loveless-lie , @puppyminnnie , @marvel-potter-1d-korea , @emtrades22 , @wolfgurl2600-blog ,

[ugh-yoongi]

the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. ���Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. &lt;3

[berryhobii]

✩ 🎀 𝒦𝐸𝒴 🎀 ✩

SMUT-♢ FLUFF-❀ ANGST-☂

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗝𝗢𝗢𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ] ❀♢

♡Namjoon was your person, as you were his♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ] ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡My Person's couple first time♡

[ᴘᴜʀᴇ]♢

♡You were pure. Ha, he could change that♡

[ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴡᴇ��ɢʜᴛ]❀♢

♡Namjoon's noticed something different about you♡

[ꜰɪʀᴇ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ]❀♢

♡Life with your firefighter husband♡

[ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ]❀♢

♡A stranger gets a little too close to your husband. He shows you exactly who he belongs to♡

[ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ]♢

♡You're his. No one else's♡

[ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ʙꜰ]

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗞𝗝𝗜𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʙᴀʙʏ ɢɪʀʟ]❀♢

♡Seokjin spoiled you rotten but how could he not when you were his baby girl?♡

[ʙᴀʙʏ ɢɪʀʟ:ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴏᴜᴛ]♢

♡You parade through your sugar daddy's building like you own it and his employees hate it. Time to show out♡

[ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ]❀♢

♡Your boyfriend isn’t giving you attention, too focused on his stupid computer game so you take matters into your own hands♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

Nothing yet....

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗞

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ɪɴ ꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ]❀♢

♡Hoseok was excited to hear about a new teacher at the community center. He wondered what kind of person you’d be, what kind of class you’d teach. He also wondered what the hell you were doing on stage at a strip club♡

[ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ɪɴ ꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2]♢

♡Hoseok visits your place for the first time and finds something he never expected♡

[ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅꜱ]ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ❀☂

♡Clouds drifted overhead, rain pouring over the monochrome colors of your life. Then the sun parted those clouds, showing you a rainbow♡

[ᴅᴇꜱꜱᴇʀᴛ]♢

♡You and Hoseok try something new♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

[ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ]ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴀᴜ❀♢☂

♡When a looming danger threatens the people you love, you have to come out of hiding and step back into your place as The Whisper; the deadliest assassin known to man. Taking people’s lives were easy, loving Hoseok was even easier, and having to face him once again after leaving would prove to be the toughest challenge of your life♡

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇꜱ]ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

♡Hoseok's pride as a racer depended on this race but his true pride and joy would always be there on their knees to release the tension♡

[ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴇ]♢

♡Hoseok's not done with you. Far from it♡

𝗠𝗜𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗜

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʀᴇᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ]❀♢

♡Yoongi’s been so busy lately and you two haven’t been spending much time together. You bring him some dinner and reconnect on a deeper level. Verrryyyyyy deep♡

[ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ]❀♢

♡You give Yoongi the silent treatment. That doesn't bode over well♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet....

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴏᴍ]♢

♡Shenanigans in the dressing room♡

[ᴍᴏᴏɴʙᴇᴀᴍꜱ]ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴀᴜ☂

♡Every night you return to the water and every night you remember why you left. But you could never forget the sparkle of his eyes reflected in the beams of the moon♡

[ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴅ]❀☂

♡Your day has been going horribly. Your fiancé helps you come down to earth♡

[ɪ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ]❀♢

♡Yoongi swore he’d finish before lunch time♡

[ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ]ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡Yoongi gets his get back♡

[ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙ]♢

♡You really need to remember to keep your phone on silent♡

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗜𝗡

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴀᴅ]❀♢☂

♡ Rule 1: Never go over the woman’s house Rule 2: Never sleep over Rule 3: Never sleep with the same person twice These 3 rules are what Jimin lived by but then you came along and he was ready to break all of them♡

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3

[ʜᴜʀʀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ]❀♢

♡You send Jimin some naughty videos during his night with the boys♡

[ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴀʀɢᴀʀɪᴛᴀ]❀♢

♡Give me one margarita, Imma open my legs♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

[ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ]ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴀᴜ❀♢☂

♡You were his oasis where the water never ran dry. He was the garden where blooms shone like diamonds. His lips were of the sweetest ambrosia that made you forget your sour past, your embrace a blanket that shielded him from the nightmare that was his life. Your souls were safe in the hands of one another. Nothing could ever separate you, the daisy chain you’ve woven entwining your fate and destinies until the end of time♡

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏᴜɢᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴘᴏᴏʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ]❀♢

♡After a pool party at your friend’s house, you and Jimin go home for some private time♡

[ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ]❀♢

♡Jimin has a few favorite things about you♡

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗧𝗔𝗘𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡𝗚

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ]♢

♡Taehyung needs to keep his eyes on the road♡

[ᴍᴏʀᴇ]ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ♢

♡It's never enough. You want more♡

𝗝𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗞𝗢𝗢𝗞

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ]❀♢

♡Jungkook wakes you up and sends you off to work all hot bothered. Just wait until you get home!♡

[ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ:ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ]❀♢

♡You’ve clocked out. It’s time to go home♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

[ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀

♡How the LFW couple met♡

[ɴᴏ ɴᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡The LFW couple attempt No Nut November. Game on♡

[ᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡You hardly pay much attention whenever you’re with Jungkook. He does though♡

[ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛɪᴍᴇ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢☂

♡Jungkook would be there whenever insecurity came to haunt you. Every time♡

[ɢʏᴍ ꜰɪᴛ]ʟꜰᴡ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ❀♢

♡Working out with your husband is great motivation♡

[ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴡɪɴɢꜱ]❀

♡Jungkook’s grown used to your mood swings♡

[ʙɪᴋɪɴɪ ʙᴏᴅʏ]❀♢

♡You show off some of your new bikini's to Jungkook♡

𝗢𝗧𝟳

🎀🎀🎀

【ＯＮＥ　ＳＨＯＴＳ】

[7 ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛꜱ]♢

♡You had 7 fuck buddies. Just how did you fit them all into your schedule?♡

【ＦＩＣＳ】

Nothing yet...

【ＡＳＫＳ／ＤＲＡＢＢＬＥＳ】

Nothing yet...

Ⓒ— My works are copyrighted and belong to me! No translations please!

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (i)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (ii)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @ggukkiereads who does an amazing job creating rec lists, which helped me find many of these fics

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ BTS Reactions by @dreamescapeswriting | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @btsjfans | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @bulletproofwhalien | NSFW + SFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @salvejoon | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @sunshine-and-bangtan | SFW + NSFW |

☆ Desperado Series by @heartbeatan | Mafia AU | PJM + JJK + KTH (in progress) | 60-160k(+) each

☆ The Company series by @btsmakesmehappy | Agent AU | 25-37k(+) each (in progress)

☆ Mafia BTS Reactions by @ninetailedfoxmanchi | Mafia AU (+Yandere AU) |

☆ #CodeBTS series by @yminie | Mafia AU | 1-12k each

Kim Namjoon

☆ The Ghost in Apartment 1403 series by @notsoguiltykpop | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Roommate AU? | ?k

☆ beauty & the bookworm by @jungshookz | E2L Library AU, Uni AU | 20k

☆ la vie en bonsai by @jungshookz | S2F2L Neighbours AU, Baker AU | 38k

☆ The Seven Nights series by @theunknowncryptid | SMAU, Mafia AU | 13k

☆ real magic by @heretobbtstrash | S2F2L Single Parent AU, Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 17k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Min Yoongi

☆ Take One by @untaemedqueen | Pornstar AU | 24k

☆ The Deal series by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ suit & tie by @jungshookz | CEO AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, PA AU | 21k + drabbles

☆ hellish by @jungshookz | E2L Demon AU, Roommate AU | 22k

☆ strike a chord by @snackhobi | S2L Pianist AU, Bar AU | 16k

☆ straight shooter by @snackhobi | F2L/E2L Cyberpunk AU, Dystopian AU | 14k

☆ devil with the mint hair series by @theharrowing | E2FWB Brother's BFF AU, Stoner AU | 11k+

☆ a wager of lords and love by @hisunshiine | S2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 7k

☆ daechwita by @chemicalpink | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 10k

☆ stay by @luffles424 | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ daechwita by @se0kie | Daechwita AU | 4k

☆ make me proud by @moonscriptsx | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 6k

☆ by its cover by @kittae | S2L Cat Dad AU | 2k

☆ misfortunately, yours by @sor-vette | S2F2L Dark Fae AU, Dark Fantasy AU | 32k

☆ mixtape by @jungblue | F2L Uni AU, Radio AU | 15k

☆ cyberslut by @kimnjss | SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ alive aha fxck by @softyoongiionly | F2L Neighbours AU, Vampire AU | 43k

☆ a brew of wings by @inkedtae | S2F2L Dragon AU, Witch AU | 10k

☆ fury of their scales by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife | Dragon AU | 18k

☆ inheritance series by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 21k

☆ tuxedo series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Cat(-shifter?) AU, Roommates AU | ft JJK | 49k+

☆ Assuage series by @btsqualityy | Omegaverse AU, Werewolf AU | ?k

☆ show by @httpjeon | Pw/oP ft BTS | 2k

☆ drip by @here2bbtstrash | Pw/oP | 5k

Jung Hoseok

☆ midnight confessions by @snackhobi | BFF2L Coworkers AU, Office AU, Buzzfeed Unsolved AU | 27k

☆ the bride of ashmedai by @jeonggukingdom | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 13k

Park Jimin

☆ The Bird Cage series + The Lion's Den series by @untaemedqueen | S2L Mafia AU | ?k

☆ Set It Off series by @btsqualityy | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ the hunt by @httpjeon | Shifter AU, Fantasy AU | 8k

☆ lovebug by @httpjeon | Hybrid AU | 12k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Pied Piper by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU, Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ maybe i do series by @chateautae | Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 410k + drabbles

☆ kinda hot by @kimnjss | BFF2L SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ nip it in the bud by @opaljm | Brother's BFF AU, Piercing AU | 10k

☆ heatwave series by @curly-bangtan | F2L Roommate AU | 12k

☆ under the covers by @jessikahathaway | Agent AU | 23k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ heavy lifting by @snackhobi | Coworkers AU | 13k

☆ Miss Vagabond by @bubblesuga | F2L Gamer AU | 8k

☆ blizzard by @curly-bangtan | S2L Roommates AU | 16k

☆ Sparkle by @btsmosphere | F2L Roommates AU | 3k

☆ Hands-On Learning series by @ladyartemesia | Uni AU | 5k

☆ kiss it better by @jincherie | Uni AU, Sports AU, Cheer AU | 12k

☆ ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Uni AU | ft MYG + KTH | 20k

☆ tell me your secrets (i'm all ears) by @jinpire | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 7k

☆ under the bridge by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 11k

☆ Swipe right by @ppersonna | BFF2L Tinder AU | 9k

☆ overtime by @cupofteaguk | CEO AU, Office AU, PA AU, Coworkers AU | 12k

☆ I won't stop you series by @imsarabum | Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, CEO AU, PA AU | ?k

☆ life eternal by @jungkookiebus | Fae AU | 9k

☆ hotter than hell series by @chateautae | Demon AU | 136k

☆ Hellblazer series by @jungkookiebus | Demon AU, Constantine AU | ?k

☆ agent of love series by @ppersonna | SMAU, Agent AU | ?k+

☆ strawberry kisses series by @kimnjss | SMAU, Brother's BFF AU, Tinder AU | ?k

☆ drag me down (to hell) series by @kimvtae | Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 58k (abandoned)

☆ Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga | Mafia AU, Husband AU | 10k

☆ hate sex by @yeoreos | FWB Pw/oP | 4k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @bonvoyagenoona's masterlist

☆ @chateautae's masterlist

☆ @flowerwrites06's masterlist

☆ @here2bbtstrash's masterlist

☆ @hollyhomburg's masterlist

☆ @icyhobi's masterlist

☆ @jungshookz's masterlist

☆ @justcallmenikki7's masterlist

☆ @kpopfanfictrash's masterlist

☆ @ladyartemesia's masterlist

☆ @luxekook's masterlist

☆ @magicalsalamander's masterlist

☆ @yminie's masterlist

☆ @yoonia's masterlist

[jimxnslight]

The Reaper's Daughter (PJM)

Summary: The Reaper’s Letter, a chilling call for blood, has been delivered, and who better to answer that call than the Reaper’s Daughter herself?

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Hitman au, mystery

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Park Jimin. That’s it, that’s the warning. 

A/N: Take this random drabble (or possible prologue…?) while I struggle with writing TSC even though I’m only on the third chapter (●_● ).

The first time you met him was on a piece of paper. 

It wasn’t just any piece of paper, of course. If that had been the case, his name would have been quickly dispelled into the forgotten depths of your mind. Your world was nothing short of a theatre piece crafted by Shakespeare himself, and anything that strayed from his intricately constructed script swiftly faded into its indifferent backdrops. 

No, the paper you met him on was very much a detail of that script. Delicately handcrafted, with sloping black cursive characters and glittering golden borders. It had many names, too. The Reaper’s Letter. Death Note. The Waiting Crow’s Hailing. But, it was not what it was called that mattered. 

What mattered was the name printed boldly on its top left corner. Because whoever’s name was unfortunate enough to find itself nestled cosily on this paper, would be found dead by week’s end. 

It had always reminded you of a children’s game you could just barely remember from the shattered fragments of your childhood, though there was nothing childish about the work you did. You’re handed the Death Note, you navigate through the mountains of information it supplies, and then the hunt begins. Kind of like Tag, yet nothing like it at all. 

But that time the rules had been slightly different. Usually accompanying the name was a picture of your target, alongside a thick file of information covering every miniscule detail of the name’s life. Instead, the paper handed to you held only three words. 

Name: Park Jimin. 

Beside it was no picture, no age, no location. At first it had annoyed you, because that meant the burden of research now fell heavily on your shoulders. But then again, this was a novel challenge, one that you were not willing to collapse under. 

Your interest had piqued even further when you were halted before your exit to be given an ominous warning. 

“Be careful, I heard he’s sharp.”

The statement was not enough to catch you off guard, but it, like the entirety of this task, was new. You were one of the best. If the likes of you had to be cautioned, then who exactly was this man?

You didn’t find out, and maybe that had been your first mistake. His information had been hidden well, too well. Of course, that had sent a few alarms blaring in your head about messing with the wrong people. But you had been given a job, and you couldn’t not see it through. 

Thus, by week’s end, you had only managed to collect a measly location and picture. It wasn’t much, but you were out of both options and time. And really, a name and place was all you’ve ever needed anyway. 

Killing a person was really not as difficult as films made it out to be. 

Take Park Jimin for example. He was completely unaware of your presence on the rooftop of the building standing right next to the enormous banquet hall he was in now. Instead, he laughed with a woman adorning glittering gold jewellery from head to toe, with a velvety navy blue dress that could only be designer. She was not special amongst the sea of identically dressed women, each accompanied by men in posh suits. 

Park Jimin didn’t look too bad himself. He was donning a dark magenta suit that hugged him in all the right places, especially the extra piece of cloth that wrapped around his torso to show off his figure. His hair was dyed dirty blonde, but it only added to the intensity that radiated off of him. 

If only it could save him from the bullet that was about to make acquaintance with his head. 

The one that you were going to release, just from a little pressure on the trigger of the sniper that your finger brushed against now.

Poor Park Jimin. He won’t be getting laid tonight, at least, not in the way he wanted. 

Your finger pressed against the trigger, only to still when a head appeared in front of Jimin. It was another woman, this time in a sequined scarlet dress that was pulled taut against her skinny figure.

You readjusted the aim of your sniper, making sure it was once again pointed towards Jimin’s head, only to huff when another opulently dressed individual, this time a man dressed in a dull black suit, gets in the way of your aim. 

You wouldn’t have paid it much thought if it wasn’t for the unusual nature of everyone’s movements. The second your aim found its way back to Jimin’s head, another individual would pop up, effectively blocking your aim. It was so ridiculous that, at some point, even Jimin himself had disappeared behind the crowd of people now laughing and chattering with one another. 

It only took you a few moments to realise the eeriness of the situation, and then one more to jump to your feet. Something was wrong, you could practically feel it buzzing around you in the air. 

As if confirming your suspicion, you heard the safety of a gun being turned off behind you. That made you freeze. 

“So, they chose you?”

The voice behind it was soft but low, and although you’ve never heard it before, you can already guess who it belongs to. 

You kept your lips sealed, not entirely sure what his words meant. They were too ambiguous, too many meanings that they could branch into. 

Instead, you decided to risk turning around. 

You were wrong, you realised, about Jimin not looking too bad. Because although he was pointing a simple handgun at your forehead, he was probably the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. 

His magenta suit had darkened into a rich wine shade that seemed to glitter under the soft rays of the moonlight, while a few strands of dirty blonde hair rested delicately on his exposed forehead. This was in contrast with his sharp jawline, that casted a deep shadow on his neck. But his eyes… Though a simple brown, they held an intensity you couldn’t quite decipher. Like creatures swimming to the surface of the vast ocean for only brief moments, you managed to catch only glimpses. Of mischief. Of anguish. You could have sworn you had even caught a tail of compassion. 

But a compassionate man wouldn’t be pointing a gun at your head now would he?

In a single, swift movement, your fingers wrapped around the gun at your waist and brought it to his own head, a perfect reflection of him. You waited for the familiar fear to pull at his calm expression, but instead, you watched him smile. 

He was pissing you off. Not because of his clearly inciting behaviour, but because he had a chance to kill you and he didn’t. He didn’t seem stupid enough not to be aware of your intentions, and yet, he didn’t seem the slightest bit worried, or even vengeful. 

Why?

“It seems we’re at a stalemate,” he stated, eyes searching your expression. For what? You didn’t know. Only now were you wishing that you had collected more research on the man standing before you. Then you at least might’ve had an inkling of his intentions. 

“Both of us will be dead the second these guns go off,” he continued nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Silence. 

It was a very underrated tactic that had quickly become one of your signature skills a long time ago. It was especially useful now, as you were in a bit of a predicament. You could have shot him and left easily if he was inexperienced. A simple disarm, duck and shoot would have been more than enough to secure a safe exit, as well as your paycheque. 

But his posture was perfect, his hands gripped the gun without even a quiver of instability, and there was an ease to his movements that lacked any kind of panic. 

He was like you, you realised. Gang members were wildcards that acted before they thought and most of their movements were rough around the edges. Police officers were more diplomatic, and Jimin would have stated that he was a cop the first chance he got if he were one. 

No, he wasn’t a gang member or police officer. He was more like you. 

You allowed yourself a single step backwards, the beginning of your journey to the roof’s edge. 

If he was as experienced as you were, he was going to be a slight problem. You had not anticipated this. You needed to do more research, find out who this man truly was because he did not seem normal. His flashy attire, calculating gaze, and eerie amusement in this whole situation had thrown you off, but you’ve never been one to be embarrassed. 

Life happened, you were a prime example of that. 

“Leaving so soon?” He asked, tilting his head to the side with an unwavering gaze. 

“You’re not doing a very good job at- well, your job. So, I’m assuming the party’s over,” you finally said, voice flat. 

“Ah, so she can speak,” he said, feigning astonishment, but it didn’t bother you much, “love, if I wanted you dead, you would be it already.”

“Careful. I’ve seen the overconfident crumble faster than the weak.”

You know you shouldn’t have responded if you wanted to maintain your air of silence, but you were also mature enough to admit that winning frivolous verbal spats like these were a guilty pleasure of yours. Before Jimin could continue, to fan the fire you guessed because he seemed like the kind of man that would, you beat him with a question.

“So, tell me why you’ve decided you don’t want me dead.”

He chuckled at that statement. 

“Who said I didn’t?”

He readjusted his aim so that instead of your head, the gun was pointed at your heart, “maybe you’re just nice to look at, and I’m just enjoying the view before you’re reduced to nothing but a pool of blood on this rooftop.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, but you only laughed inwardly. If he was expecting you to be scared he was going to have to do a better job than that.

Despite repressing the laugh, you still felt a smile just barely twitch against your lips, “I would’ve expected trash talking to be beneath you Park Jimin.”

Jimin’s gaze remained steady, a glint of amusement in his eyes, “trash talking, huh? Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

You cocked your head to the side, a silent question, but Jimin only copied the movement. At first you thought he was mocking you, but then he spoke. 

“So they finally decided to send you,” Jimin continued, “Reaper’s Daughter.”

You didn’t let yourself tense, or move in any way that would indicate that he had caught you off guard. That nickname was known by many, but the many couldn’t attribute it to a face. Not only did Jimin know you were The Reaper’s Daughter, but he had also revealed it to you that he knew. You still didn’t know what game you had walked into, but it was clear now that there was more to this task than you thought. There was more to Jimin than you thought. 

Slowly, you let your eyebrows pull together as you cast him a confused look. Jimin chuckled, seeming to find amusement in your lack of communication. 

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while.”

The fact that you’ve had someone tailing you and you didn’t notice didn’t sit right with you. But you pushed the thought to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the fact that Jimin had been collecting information on you and that could only mean there was something he wanted. 

Before you could ask what it was, Jimin spoke up again. 

“When I first saw you on this rooftop, I wondered what you could be doing here. And then I watched you assemble your sniper,” he said, “I couldn’t understand why you’d agreed to make me one of your targets.”

You almost snorted at his naivety, because if he had been tailing you then he should know what you do for a living, but then paused at his next words. 

“I found it odd that this little mouse had agreed to eliminate the only one on her side,” he continued, “unless… she decided to switch sides.”

The atmosphere shifted from light jabs to a fierce hostility as the amusement suddenly drained from his face, leaving behind a sharp pair of eyes that betrayed nothing. You automatically tensed, knowing that the real standoff had just begun, even if you didn’t have a clue as to what Jimin was talking about. 

“I must say I’m disappointed. I wouldn’t have expected it from you of all people. I didn’t expect that you’d be here for this reason.”

“Speak plainly, Jimin. What are you talking about?” you said, your curiosity finally reaching a point strong enough to break your silence. Your tone was still flat, but now it was firm, tired of his cryptic words and your mind trying to grasp at straws to understand. 

Jimin studied you for a moment. Without the amusement in his gaze, you had to stop yourself from shifting uncomfortably. His eyes could be so… intense. 

You had a feeling that your words had surprised him, as the hostile environment seemed to dampen for a moment. Jimin looked like he was at a crossroad, unsure if he wanted to share what was truly on his mind or simply take his chances and kill you on the spot. You waited patiently, curious to have the hurricane of questions in your mind answered. 

But when the silence continued to stretch, you realised that Jimin had decided to adopt your preferred method of communication. It was clear now that he had opted to leave you in the dark instead, refusing to reveal any kind of information to you. You felt a pang of annoyance hit your chest as you realised the burden of research would, once again, fall on your shoulders. 

You took another step towards the edge of the roof, Jimin’s eyes still focused on you. It’s not like you were trying to hide it, because Jimin’s calculating gaze would not allow such a thing. The two of you knew there would be no deaths tonight. You were caught in a stalemate, one you would have left a while ago under normal circumstances, but nothing about Jimin was normal and maybe that was why you had stayed a lot longer than you should have. 

But even though he looked almost devilish under the moonlight in those sinfully sultry clothes, holding tempting answers to questions he would never answer, you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. This night was over. There was nothing left here for you. 

The roof’s edge brushed against your backside as you continued to aim your gun at Jimin’s chest, your gaze just as focused as his. You watched his expression soften for a moment before he spoke. 

“When you figure it out, you’ll know where to find me, Y/N L/N.”

You didn’t know how he knew your name. You didn’t know what he wanted you to figure out. You didn’t know where you would find him, or if you would even want to find him after you figured out whatever you needed to. But you didn’t question it. A gut feeling told you that once you started searching, you’d be able to figure things out easy enough. All you had to do was get out of here so that you could let your curiosity do its thing. 

So when you were finally balancing on the edge of the roof, taking Jimin’s gaze into your own, it wasn’t at all abnormal when you felt the drop of the fall in your stomach. 

What was abnormal was the butterflies that continued to flutter even after you had landed on the pavement of the street.

The butterflies that continued to flutter even after you had made it safely back to your home.

[acopenhagenarmy]

ALLIES - CHAPTER FOUR

Pairing: BTS x reader but mostly hyung-line x reader  Side pairings: Jimin x Taehyung, Jimin x Ateez!Wooyoung, reader x Ateez!Seonghwa

Mafia!au - gang!au - assassins!au 

Word count: 3,5k ish

Warnings: Mentions of death, nudity and sex apart from that some strong language. And I think that’s it for now.. 

Summary: Growing up in one of the biggest and most feared mafias has it’s perks, but what happens when you and you’re friends are suddenly shipped off to the other end of the world? Will you stay together or will the world you live in tear you all apart? 

NOTE: THIS IS THE UPDATED VERSION OF MY HEART RUNS TO YOU

-> NEXT CHAPTER

You sat quietly in a chair next to Taehyung waiting for when the headmaster had finished his current conversation. Camilla was currently in his office, Shawn had been in there just before her. Dominic’s assistant was smart enough to not place the four of you in the same room. The day had been dramatic enough as there was no need to add fuel to the fire. 

“I like your katana. It’s one hell of a weapon” Taehyung stated after you’ve been sitting in silence for a while. 

“Oh!” You said and looked down at the blade in its holster that you were holding in your hand. “Thank you” 

He smiled and looked around. Seemingly not sure what to do or what to say to you, after all you just met, and the two of you didn’t have the same pull towards each other as you had with his older brothers, or he had with Jimin. 

“How did you get two guns? I thought we were only allowed to bring one weapon each?” 

You turned your upper body towards him, to encourage conversation. 

“Oh yeah we were. I’m just really not a one weapon type of guy” he said as he shrugged. 

You laughed. 

“Did you break the rules TaeTae?” 

He sent a boxy smile your way as his eyes disappeared. He seemed pleased with your nickname. 

“I would never, I just bent them a little” He stuck a finger in his mouth and started to nibble on the dry skin around his nails. 

“How is that bending the rules?” You asked as you took his hand and removed it from his mouth. You couldn’t stand the sound. 

“Well the rules stated that we were only allowed to bring one weapon each. But nowhere in the rules did it say that I wasn’t allowed to steal the weapons of others” 

His eyes sparkled as he spoke. 

You couldn’t contain the laughter that escaped you. It was loud, genuine and contagious. It didn’t take long before Taehyung laughed with you, and soon the two of you were gasping for air. 

Suddenly the doors in front of you slammed open, and Camilla quickly rushed through without as much as looking at the two of you. 

Dominic called your name. Taehyung took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll find you after” he said. 

“Thank you TaeTae” 

Dominic was leaning against his desk, quickly walking towards you as you had closed the doors. 

“It’s been a long time coming Y/N” he said as he pulled you in for a hug. 

“It’s good seeing you uncle” 

“Good seeing you kiddo” He gave you an extra squeeze before letting you go and gesturing towards one of the chairs and quickly sat down himself. 

“So… why am I here?” 

He sighed. “How can I not call you in Y/N, it’s been the most dramatic first day off class I’ve had in all my years as headmaster” 

You remained quiet. 

“I’m proud of you, you know?” You tilted your head not quite getting where he was going with his statement. “And your father would be too. The way you’ve handled yourself these last couple of hours is very admirable, and I think you need to prepare yourself for the next couple of weeks because of it” 

“Thank you, it means a lot.” You sent a smile his way. 

Dominic had always been kind, always expecting the best of his sons but he’d never been cruel in the way men tended to be in this line of work. He reminded you a lot of your own father, and it was in cases like this you realized exactly why the two of them were so close. 

“Now!” He said as he clapped his hands together. “Send Taehyung in, I need to expel that kid” 

You started laughing once again. “You can’t uncle” 

He rolled his eyes at you. “Of course I can Y/N, he broke my rules, I can do whatever I want when the kids do that” 

“But he didn’t, he just utilized your wording” 

“How?” He asked as he crossed his arms. 

“He didn’t bring two weapons, he stole one of the guns from some other guy who’s now roaming the halls without any way to defend himself” 

Dominic shook his head as he sighed. 

“Send him in anyways” 

You left the office and told Taehyung he could find you and the guys in one of the public living rooms not far from either of your rooms. 

Despite the building being large, it didn’t take you long to reach your members who were currently napping on the couches. You dropped down between Hoseok and Jimin, and Hoseok quickly pulled you close as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You smell nice,” he stated. 

You hummed as a response. 

It was quiet, none of you really spoke. You just enjoyed being with each other in solitude for a little while. 

Meanwhile Taehyung had finished his meeting with the headmaster and was updating his brothers and Yoongi on the long discussions he had with the headmaster Dominic. 

“But I guess she must’ve said something to him, cause he just demanded that I return the weapon to the person I stole it from” 

“And that was it? No yelling? No explanation needed?" Yoongi asked. 

Yoongi pondered a little on just why you would explain Taehyung's situation to the man you called uncle. You and Namjoon had come to an agreement earlier that day, a pre-alliance so to speak, but didn’t it take more than that for you to trust them? 

“Well you did kind of defend Blade even though it was mainly because your ego can't handle being called a weirdo” Seokjin said as he ruffled his younger brother's blue locks. 

That’s true… Yoongi thought to himself. 

He pushed open the doors and caught a quick glimpse of you in Hoseok's arms as he entered. He made a mental note of it, reminding himself that he had to ask Hoseok about your relationship when he had him alone. 

Yoongi was quiet, more quiet than most. He was observant and caught the unspoken words between people, and he knew his members like he knew himself. But despite that, even a blind man would be able to see how you affected his leader. And he needed to look out for them all if Namjoon had decided to be blinded by your bloodlust and beauty. 

You quickly removed yourself from Hoseok as you heard the men enter the room. And just as your eyes found Namjoons in an instant, knocking down all walls he had spent his life building. 

“That was quick” You stated as you looked towards the blue haired man. 

Taehyung shrugged. “I think you pretty much saved my ass” 

Jimin laughed with him, making his boxy smile even bigger than before. 

The four boys sat down on the empty couch on the other side of the coffee table. Quickly getting comfortable. It only took Taehyung a few seconds to get comfortable, both arms and legs swinging around Namjoon. He himself seemed unbothered by it. He must be used to it 

“So…” Seokjin said. “This day have been way more exciting than i first expected” 

You all laughed, and his eyes seemed to soften at that. 

“This is new for all of us. New allies happen rarely, and personally the four of us are only really used to working together” You said as you looked at the men who surrounded you. 

“Us too…” Yoongi responded. “But does this mean we’re allies then?” 

“If you still want us, yes. It will take us time. We all have  to get used to this, especially since we’ll see eachother everyday. But let’s use it to our advantage. All have different talents, we all have areas where we can improve, so I would like for us to learn from one another in the classes. It’s only a few of them where we’re all rookies” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Seokjin said. 

“Great! I was thinking that Kook could start out with learning TaeTae a thing or two with hand to hand combat” 

The two men looked at each other and did what you could only assume was a secret handshake that they’d made in the last few hours. 

“Hobi, I would like it if you and Yoongi would sit down with each other. You both work quite far from the field, you like to see everything from the outside” 

They both nodded. 

Namjoon was amazed at just how quickly you’d be able to pair his and yours members with each other. How quickly you had analyzed them all and seen their weaknesses, but at the same time their strengths. 

“Chim, you’ll work with Namjoon. You can teach him a thing or two about how I fight. Something tells me his way is a little more stiff” 

You smiled, and even though you had just criticized him, he couldn’t help but return it. 

“Why don’t you teach me yourself, Park? Afraid?” He asked you 

You laughed. “No, but everything I’ve learned is from Chim or Kook, and I don’t think you’re ready for him yet. Besides, Jimin moves differently than most when he fights. It’s more of a dance, so it’ll give you an edge most people don’t have”

“Does that then mean you’ll be with me?” Seokjin asked, teasingly. 

Jimin and Yoongi quickly looked around the men who quickly stiffened. Hoseok looked like he had stopped breathing, and Jungkook looked like he wanted to bore his knives in his hands, just to make sure that they didn’t touch you. Namjoon however didn’t even blink, he was either used to Jin’s flirting behavior, or he was unbothered by the way he spoke to you. You didn’t really know which of them you wanted it to be. 

"Exactly, I wanna see what you can do Seokjin” You said. Fully aware of just how he could interpret your words. 

“I’ll show you everything… But please, call me Jin” 

“Jin…” It was af you had to taste his name in your mouth, and he seemed pleased, and sent a nod of approval your way. 

The look he had in his eyes felt like he set fire to your blood. 

You quickly coughed, hoping that it would make the feeling disappear. 

“Great! We have a plan then” 

“Does that mean you’ll tell us your name?” Taehyung asked 

“Not quite yet” 

Taehyung pouted at your response which made Jimin break out in the sweetest of smiles. 

“Let’s go Tae, might be an idea to rest up before dinner” Yoongi said and pushed the younger man, earning him a small and dramatic scream. 

“I don’t need rest! I just need to steal a new gun or two” 

“TAE!” You, Namjoon, Seokjin and Jimin all yelled. 

He held his hands up as if he was a thief on the wrong end at a policeman's gun. “Okay, okay I won't then!” 

You all stood up and slowly went back to your individual rooms. 

The rest of the day went by quickly, there was no added drama or chaos. And neither of you needed more to happen. 

You had just put on one of Hoseok’s oversized t-shirts after a well earned shower when you heard a knock on your door. 

You slowly opened it, to scout if it was a friend or foe who stood on the other side. Katana drawn, hidden by the door. 

“Jin” You said when your eyes found his. 

He sent a crooked smile your way. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you opened the door wider, as to invite him in while you put away your katana. But he never moved, he remained on the other side of the door, watching you silently as you moved around. 

“I have something for you,” He said and leaned against the doorframe. 

Confusion painted your expression. 

“See it as a token of my appreciation” 

He handed you a little vial filled with what looked like water, but you knew better when it came to the Seokjin. 

“What is this?” You asked as you expected it. 

“It’s just a little something I threw together while you and Tae talked to the headmaster. It slows down the effect of all known poisons we’ll be able to make with the plants and chemicals here. It will paint your lips red as blood if it reacts with anything that could cause you harm. I’ll then be able to whip up an antidote before it takes you out” 

You looked at him with big eyes. “Oh wow… Thank you, so much. that’s an amazing gift” 

“Your very welcome Blade” He was just about to turn around when your voice once again caught his attention. 

"Jin? Can I ask you why you’re giving me this?” 

He smiled, bigger, brighter and way less seductive than he had done so far. 

“I’m not blind you know?” 

“I didn’t say you were?” You answered with a teasing tone. 

He laughed. “I know… We’ve been here for a short amount of time, and I’ve seen how you and Namjoon look at each other. It’s something different from the desire you radiate when you look at me.” 

“I-” 

“Don’t worry Blade, I won't tell anyone about all your crushes. Just like those who crush on you won't confess either. But if I’m gonna steal your heart from my brother, from Jungkook and from Hoseok, I need you to be alive. Therefore the antidote.” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle nor the smile. “Who says I’m even interested?” 

The tone was teasing, almost daring. 

“I do. You know I’m so much more than a pretty face Park, let me show you” 

Jin slowly walked away, a big smile displayed on his lips. He looked happy, a different happiness than what he had displayed all day. This happiness wasn't flirting, it seemed more genuine. 

Damn you Jin. Now I wanna get to know you … 

You quickly closed your door behind him in a desperate attempt to shut his words out, force them back into his throat before they could manifest in you. 

A knock on the door that connected you and Hoseok's shared bathroom pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Come in Hobi” You answered. 

He stood in the door opening for a second. Somewhat afraid of the expression that painted your features. 

“Who was at the door?” 

“Oh, it was just Jin” 

“Was he a bearer of good news?” 

You sent him a puzzled look. 

He pointed to you; “You’re smiling like a maniac” 

“He gave me this” You said and threw the small flask his way. “He’s afraid that I might be poisoned. By either Shawn or Camilla I assume, so he gave me something to detect it and slow it down in case it happens” 

Hoseok expected the flask. “You sure this isn’t poison? That this a scheme to get you to take it?” 

You laughed. Killing me after confessing? You had heard worse theories. 

You were fascinated by Namjoon, in many ways he was like you. A dynasty resting on his shoulders, surrounded by those he trusted the most. He was beautiful, charming, and alluring. But you also knew that as much as you wanted to trace his dragon tattoo with your own hands, as much as you wanted to figure out where it both started and ended, it would mean trouble for the both of you. 

Jin however, offered a whole other life. He was the oldest, and therefore would be easily accepted if you decided to get closer to him. He was tall, deadly and beautiful with his plump lips and wide shoulders. The two of you together would be a lethal combination. 

But you didn’t come here to fall in love, to find your match. This, he, them, were never a part of the plan. So instead of dwelling on Jin’s words, you started to shut off, close off your heart, harden yourself, building up those walls that had been broken down by the Kim brothers in a matter of hours. 

“Lost in thought?” Hoseok asked with a small smile on his lips. He looked cute like this, soft even. 

“A little, it’s been a long day” You stated as you threw yourself on the bed. 

“You don’t say” he said as he laid beside you, pulling your body close to him. 

Hoseok loved having you like this, he knew he was the only one who got to see you like this, at least now. It had been a while since you had a love. For a while he thought that you and your ex might end up married in the future, that was of course until he decided that a life on the seven seas with his 7 best friends seemed better. 

That anyone could choose anyone, anything over you was something Hoseok would never be able to understand. So instead he pulled you even closer to him and entangled his limbs with yours. 

“Where have you been?” Namjoon asked his brother as he walked through the door that led to his room. 

“I stopped by Blades, had something for her” He stated as he sat down in one of the chairs that stood in front of Namjoons desk. 

He lifted his eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” He asked, smirk on full display. 

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I gave her a flask of the same stuff I’ve been feeding to you for the last few years. Didn’t think you’d want your first ally to drop dead when one of these idiots figure out just what they can make from the herbs that’s on the roof” 

Namjoon nodded. He wasn’t wrong, especially since your father most likely would blame Jin for the poison which would lead to a full on war. 

“Have you talked to Hongjoong yet?” Yoongi asked as he joined the brothers' conversation.  

“No haven’t heard from him, or even seen him yet” 

“I could’ve sworn he said they’d been accepted” He said almost indifferently. 

“Yeah I thought so too, but who knows? They might’ve gotten a better offer” Seokjin said. “Have any of you seen Tae by the way?” 

“I think he’s hanging out with Jimin and Jungkook,” Namjoon stated. 

Yoongi laughed almost silently. “It might be good for him to have someone around his own age to run around with”

Namjoon threw a pillow his way. “I’m only one year older than him, you know” He stated. 

“Oh we know, but you do have a tendency to be a little tense from time to time” Yoongi said as he walked out the room. 

“You got your alliance with the Parks, I’m proud of you brother” Seokjin shot his leader a smile which made him return it shyly. 

“Couldn't have done it without any of you guys, if I’m completely honest I think Tae had more to do with it than the rest of us” 

“Sure he might play a part, but it did sound like she had thought about it as well, so give her some credit” 

"Honestly?" She deserves all the credit” He sighed and whispered: “she deserves everything” 

Seokjin laughed. “Does she now?” 

“What?” Namjoon said with big eyes as he tried his best to not admit that the words had somehow escaped him by accident. 

The older man shook his head. “You’re cute when you act stupid. You might be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but you’re also one of the dumbest” 

Namjoon laid back and covered his head in one of the many pillows as he screamed into it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow brother, rest well okay?” 

He waved, face never leaving the pillow. He wanted to hide himself from the world. Did he really say it out loud, or was his brother just that good at reading him? If he was being honest it didn’t really matter.

[kawaikisses]

m.list ; Reading list.

Updated. Jan 22, 2024.

Note : I read k-pop idols x reader/ orginal female character fics, so this list is organized keeping that in mind, I do not personally have any issues with other genders, this is just my preference. Thankyou. If you hate unnecessarily, sincerely, no fucks will be given.

(everything is organized by alphabetical order)

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄.

angst .

fluff .

smut .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐔’𝐒.

artist au .

arranged marriage au .

assassin au .

baker au .

bartender au .

BDSM au .

best friend’s brother au .

best friends to lovers au .

best friend’s sister au .

boyfriend au .

camboy au .

camgirl au .

camp counselor au .

CEO au .

chef au .

childhood friends to lovers au .

club au .

college au .

coworker au .

crime au .

dad au .

doctor au .

dancer au .

detective au .

divorce au .

enemies to lovers au .

established relationship au .

exes to lovers au .

fantasy au .

farm au .

father au .

friends to benefits au .

friends to lovers au .

fuckboy au .

fuckgirl au .

forbidden au .

gamer au .

god au .

hitman au .

horror au .

husband au .

hybrid au .

idiots to lovers au .

idol au .

king au .

lawyer au .

mafia au .

magic au .

medical au .

musician au .

neighbours au .

noona au .

one night stand au .

photographer au .

pirates au .

professor au .

prince au .

rich au .

road trip au .

roommate au .

royalty au .

second chance au .

secret relationship au .

sex worker au .

single parent au .

social media au .

songwriter au .

soulmate au .

spy au .

superhero au .

supernatural au .

tattoo artist au .

teacher au .

unrequited love au .

vampire au .

werewolf au .

wife au .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒.

kim namjoon .

kim seokjin .

min yoongi .

jung hoseok .

park jimin .

kim taehyung .

jeon jungkook .

ot7 .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄.

drama .

hurt/comfort .

magic .

mutual pining .

mystery .

romance .

slow burn .

thriller .

age play .

crack .

Note : please let me know if any of the links are not working. Thankyou.

Note : since Tumblr only allows 100 links per page, so this list will be continued in another page, which is linked down below.

↬masterlist continued .

[spookyserenades]

not trying to rush or anything! i was just wondering when we’ll get a taste of sanctity 👀

hehe! I'm working on the first chapter already, it's up to 4k words. I've made a banner (not a swanky one LOL my strengths are not with graphic design) but I'll copy paste my notes about the boys that I've come up with so far. And give you the banner 💕

Seokjin 

Born 1145 - Turned 1176 (Goryeo) 879 years old, physically 31

Manipulative type yandere 

Taeja (crown prince) of a monarch, third-born son; focused on studies, arts, humanities, and would assist in conversations surrounding war and foreign relations

Speaks Korean, Mandarin, Japanese, Arabic (most ancient languages as well)

Power: Compulsion, he can influence minds, wipe memories, make suggestions to control someone

Yoongi

Born 1476 - Turned 1507 (Renaissance Period) 548 years old, physically 31

Obsessive type yandere

Apprentice of Leonardo Da Vinci, created some of his art then went on to have his own famous career, patron of arts 

Speaks Latin, Greek, and all other Romance languages

Power: Paralysis, he can paralyze someone using his mind, rendering them unable to move

Hoseok

Born 1607 - Turned 1637 (Early Modern Period, Piracy’s Golden Age) 417 years old, physically 30

Possessive type yandere

Buccaneer, captain of a ship that would sail around the Caribbean. Plundered and burned cities, owns many fine things, well-traveled

Speaks all Romance languages, Dutch, Haitian Creole

Power: Tracking, he can find anyone with his senses without fail, can predict target’s moves in advance

Namjoon

Born 1630 - Turned 1659 (Joseon) 394 years old, physically 29

Sadistic type yandere

Ruthless military general that led men during the Qing invasion of Joseon. Later became an assassin (sword for hire, essentially) 

Speaks Korean, Mandarin, Japanese, and most other Asian languages

Power: Pain Illusion, when focused on target he can create the illusion that the target is being burned alive

Jimin

Born 1796 - Turned 1824 (Regency Era, 20 years post America’s Independence) 228 years old, physically 28

Clingy type yandere

Famous playwright of romantic tragedies, owner of a theater in England that was extremely popular

Speaks all Romance languages

Power: Hypnosis, he can convince targets that they’re in love with him/can’t live without him

Taehyung

Born 1841 - Turned 1869 (Victorian Era, 20ish years before Industrial revolution) 183 years old, physically 28

Stalker type yandere

Basically Vanderbilt vibes. The coven lives in the Breakers mansion, Taehyung built it. Owned railroads, reclusive business tycoon

Speaks English and French

Power: Glamoring, he can disguise his appearance and his presence itself

Jeongguk

Born 1900 - Turned 1926 (Roaring 20’s, Prohibition Act, Al Capone mafia) 124 years old, physically 26

Overprotective type yandere

Ran with Al Capone crime family, mostly as a booze smuggler and bodyguard. Was turned when the North Siders targeted Capone at the Hawthorne inn

Speaks English

Power: Telepathy, can read minds

[intplayboy]

WITCH'S REFUGE - ROYAL SOLDIERS! BTS OT7 X FEM WITCH! READER [ PROLOGUE ]

if you wish to be part of the tag list, complete the form.

summary: in an era where the royal family denounces all magic, as one of the few remaining witches, you hide your powers. though you try to lead a normal life, only the seven accepting men make you feel truly understood. yet, what destiny awaits when you must reveal your true identity?

genre: supernatural/magic au | medieval-modern fusion fantasy au | F2L (more like idiots to lovers, honestly) | moderate? angst | action | romance | fluff | hint of crack

pairing: royal soldiers bts ot7 x female witch reader (high royal commander!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!kim seokjin, high royal soldier!min yoongi, royal assassin!jung hoseok, royal assassin!park jimin, elite warrior!kim taehyung, elite warrior!jeon jungkook)

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death, slight mentions of SA, disgusting misogyny, witchcraft, slight gore, and swearing.

permanent tag list: @taolucha, @exfolitae, @namjoonswaifu, @rinkud, @queenlouie18, @btsgangleader @m0v3m3ntsblog, @nicholedobre-blog, @bjoriis, @princess-sunshyn, @han-aaaaa, @ejspencer14, @skyys-universe, @thvslvt, @dustyinkpages, @savagemickey03, @aynbookworm, @loveforred, @jwonz, @ghostlyworld, @wagtte, @louisaqueen, @meepsters-world, @carolina-thiell, @svnbangtansworld, @deepestfacedevil

(the tags that are strikethrough could not be tagged)

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

word count: 8,942

*note: the fictional language that will be spoken a lot throughout this story is called "Astrithian". it's mainly used among witches to converse without being understood to outsiders and to vocalize their magic. there will also be a lot of terminology used, which will be explained*

********

15 enchantas ago... (Derived from "Enchant" and "Era," Enchanta marks a single year. It reflects the enchantment and wonder that pervade the world, making each year unique.)

In the midst of the forest that bordered your humble abode, a thrilling spectacle unfolded. Giggles erupted from your seven-year-old self as you dash through the trees, your small feet carrying you swiftly across the woodland floor. Behind you, seven older companions pursued with a mixture of determination and amusement, transforming the surroundings into an endless playground.

Ten-year-old Jimin, one of your companions, couldn't help but grumble in his pursuit. "How is she so tiny, yet moves with such speed?"

A mischievous giggle escaped nine-year-old Jungkook. "Perhaps it's because you're too tiny yourself."

Jimin narrow his eyes at Jungkook. "Your humor lacks refinement."

"I beg to differ. It sounded rather amusing to me," thirteen-year-old Jin chimed in, joining the teasing banter.

"Fine. I wager two draconian ingots that none of you can catch her," Jimin challenged, ego slightly bruised.

(draconian ingots, crafted from rare golden mystical alloys associated with legendary dragons, symbolized wealth and power, reflecting the dragons' historical influence on the world.)

"Two draconian ingots?! Game on!" Jungkook shouts with enthusiasm. "Prepare to be caught, Y/N!"

The onlookers, including Jimin and the rest, watched in astonishment as little Jungkook accelerated on his nimble feet. "Wait—hey!"

"I don't know if you're generous or foolish for making such a bet with Jungkook," eleven-year-old Namjoon remarked, shaking his head with a chuckle.

A groan escapes Jimin as he laments his decision. "Don't remind me..."

Undeterred by the unforeseen turn of events, Taehyung seizes the opportunity, surging ahead in the pursuit of both victory and draconian ingots. "I'm with Jungkook! I want those draconian ingots! Here I come, Y/N!"

The forest echoes with the playful banter and the rustle of leaves as the pursuit continues, transforming a simple chase into a spirited competition fueled by the allure of mythical riches.

Twelve-year-old Yoongi, however, couldn't hide his weariness. "Must we turn a playful chase into a pursuit of bets and riches? I'm growing tired."

"What do you mean? It's always fun! I'm having a blast!" cheered Hoseok.

Jin, always the peacemaker, interjects with playful sarcasm. "You're perpetually tired, Yoongi. Don't use that excuse now."

"But do we really need to take it this far…" Yoongi grumbles.

"Hey, Y/N initially wanted to share something exciting with us. It somehow evolved into a spirited chase," observed Namjoon, thinking of you as a little rascal.

After a short span of a brisk run, you and your seven friends find yourselves at the unexpected marvel you had eagerly anticipated. Pausing to catch your breath, you turn around swiftly, ready to unveil the surprise to your companions.

As they gather around, you theatrically gesture towards it. "Behold! Is it not wondrous?!!"

As their eyes take in the scene before them, their expressions transform into sheer astonishment. "A concealed waterfall?!"

Grinning broadly at their reactions, you declare, "It is not merely a waterfall, my lords."

Confused gazes meet yours, urging you to elaborate. Your excitement bubbles over as you squeal, "It is a magical waterfall!"

"Mother and father informed me that by tossing in a single lunaris shilling, one's deepest desire can be granted," you share with delight. "And should you swim in its waters, every injury and ailment will be miraculously healed!"

(lunaris shillings are silver coins that embody the magic and mystery associated with the moon. they are prized for their magical properties and are often used in mystical transactions.)

A silence lingers as they absorb the revelation, still processing the words that spill from your lips regarding the hidden waterfall discovered in collaboration with your parents.

The more they remain silent, the more a sense of gloom starts to settle within you. Doubt begins to creep in, wondering if they share your enthusiasm or if they question the authenticity of your claims. Yet, you know it to be true – you've witnessed the magical properties of the water firsthand. Your mother's wish for an early harvest season, whispered as she tossed in a shilling, came to fruition three auroas sooner, a testament to the enchanted nature of the waterfall.

(auroa: unique term representing months, inspired by the word "aurora." it symbolizes the cycles of magic, similar to the changing colors of the northern lights.)

You recall the time your father succumbed to a severe respiratory illness, the burden fell upon you and your mother to transport his weakened body to the mystical waters. As you immersed him, a miraculous transformation unfolded before your eyes—the pallor of sickness dissipated, the shadows under his eyes vanished, and vitality surged back into his frail form.

"Well, I have a pair of lunaris shillings right now. Shall we have a go at it, then?" Hoseok approaches, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the silver coins.

The others, initially hesitant, soon follow Hoseok's lead, drawn by the allure of the magical cascade. "Yeah, let's all try it," they chorused, surrendering to the enchantment that lingered in the air.

"Besides, if witches live among us, who's to say magic is not to be real?" Hoseok grins at you, his warmth radiating in the face of uncertainty. Hoseok, with his innate sense of empathy, stood out among your companions, always ready to defend you and find positivity in every situation. He was the angel of your group, and you couldn't help but hope that this facet of his character transcended across all universes.

As you stood in line with Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi, the sparkling waterline glistened under the moonlight, drawing your attention to the tranquil body of water that connected to the majestic waterfall.

"What are you guys wishing for?" you ask with genuine curiosity, the anticipation of fulfilling desires shimmering in the air.

Hoseok gazes ahead pensively before releasing a soft sigh. "To become the finest royal guard in all the kingdom, and to bring honor to each of you," he declared, casting his single shilling into the waters with a determined flick of his wrist.

"You already bring us great pride, Hobi," you reassure him with a tender smile, warmth radiating from your words.

His lips curved into a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Well, I wish to live long and healthy." Jimin says, throwing his own lunaris shillings.

Jungkook, ever the playful one, puffs up his chest with pride, drawing laughter from the group. "I wish to be the strongest in the kingdom so that I can save you anytime, my lady," he declares, a cheesy smile accompanying his theatrical gesture.

You chuckle at his charming display, reciprocating with a smile as he playfully toss his shillings into the water.

A mischievous glint dances in Taehyung's eyes as he steps forward, his wish spoken with a lighthearted jest. "My wish is to remain the most handsome boy in our kingdom!" His shilling follows suit, accompanied by a playful nudge from Jimin.

"You're already a vision, Taehyungie. Such a frivolous wish," Jimin jests, teasing his friend with a good-natured grin.

Taehyung feigns offense, his lips twisting into a mock pout. "Must one's desires be subject to scrutiny? Besides, Y/N herself claimed the water grants any desire. Who am I to resist such potential?"

Seokjin, a noble soul, spoke with a regal air, "I desire to amass wealth, second only to the royal family, to shower you all with opulence whenever the whim takes me." With a flourish, he tosses his lunaris shillings into the mystical depths.

"Ever the provider, Seokjin," Namjoon remarks with a warm smile directed at his older companion.

"Only for you guys," Seokjin replies with a twinkle in his eye.

Yoongi yawns. "Well, for me, I wish to have the best sleeps for all the years to come."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "Ugh, come on Yoons, this is your one wish, and you're going with that?"

"Mhmm, deal with it," Yoongi concedes. "I wish for the highest standing in the royal court."

Hoseok, in mock surprise, teased, "Hmm, a throne for the sleepyhead. I wonder how that'll unfold."

Yoongi, unfazed, tosses his lunaris shillings into the water alongside the others.

"Now it's my turn... I wish to make a profound impact on our world, something that will resonate with the hearts of the people," Namjoon says, casting his lunaris shillings into the water.

A chorus of awed reactions follows, as Namjoon's words consistently embody honor and admiration from each of you.

"That's truly admirable, Joon," you express, admiration sparkling in your eyes as you smile at him.

Namjoon chuckles, encircling his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into a side hug. "And now, little one, what is your heart's desire?"

"Yeah, you're the last one, Y/N," Taehyung grins widely, the anticipation evident in the group, mirroring their eagerness to hear your wish.

You pause, caught in a moment of contemplation. A recollection surfaces in your mind, a distant echo of your mother's words cautioning you against casting a wish with a lunaris shillings. The water, a benevolent deity of desires, grants wishes to those who offer a solitary shilling, but for reasons never fully explained by your mother, you have always been denied this privilege. However, surrounded by the fervor of your companions' wishes, a yearning to make your own desire known begins to swell within you.

"I... I'm not sure. My mother always cautioned against it," you admit reluctantly.

A collective disbelief and confusion painted the faces of your friends. Namjoon's expression shifted, a slight frown forming on his features. "Why so, my lady?"

"Indeed, you've spoken of it yourself, and your mother too, that the waters grant any wish to those who offer a single lunaris shilling," Taehyung chimed in.

"That seems unjust, does it not? Why should everyone else revel in the joy of making a wish while you are barred?" Jimin pouts, hands resting on his hips.

You can only offer a helpless shrug, your own confusion matching theirs. Yet, before the moment can stretch further, Jungkook strides forward with determination. "Regardless, I believe you should still cast your wish."

"Wait, Jungkook, perhaps there exists a concealed rationale behind Y/N's mother's reluctance. Must we really question her discernment?" Seokjin, reasoned with an air of gentleness.

Jungkook, however, was not swayed. "Indeed, Seokjin, but if such were the case, why did she she impart knowledge of its enchanting powers of the waters to Y/N? It's utterly nonsensical and, dare I say, unjust."

With a firm resolve, Jungkook declared, "She merits the opportunity to express her desires, just as we have."

Seokjin, though still uncertain, mused, "Mhmm, I remain unconvinced, Jungkook. Namjoon, what say you?"

Namjoon pondered, his fingers thoughtfully scratching his chin. "You both make good points."

An expectant hush enveloped the room until Yoongi, the voice of nonchalance, broke the silence. "Well, we find ourselves here now, do we not? What's hindering you?" All eyes turned toward him, waiting for his next utterance.

"Her parents are absent, and only the eight of us bear witness to this clandestine affair. Should none of us breathe a word of tonight, her wish can remain a concealed mystery," Yoongi suggested with tone of indifference.

"So, at this juncture, what hindrance do you perceive?" he nonchalantly reiterated.

Hoseok, ever the optimist, chimed in, "He's not wrong, you know."

As Namjoon turned his gaze back to you. "Well, the decision is ultimately upon you, Y/N," he uttered, his eyes studying you intently.

You purse your lips, your mind racing with possibilities. This choice holds the power to shape your destiny, to alter the course of your life in ways both profound and unforeseen. Beside you, Yoongi's words echo faintly, a reminder of the absence that looms over you like a shadow. Your mother's influence, once a guiding force, now exists only in memory. Here, among friends who value your autonomy, you find the freedom to chart your own course.

With a determined grip, you nodded, the lunaris shilling clutched in your hand. "Very well, I shall make my wish."

The younger members of your group erupt in cheers, their excitement palpable in the air. Hoseok beams at you with infectious enthusiasm.

"And what shall be your wish, my dear lady?" He asks eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity.

A smile graced your lips. "My wish is for all of us to remain together in happiness, perhaps for an eternity!"

Their smiles mirrored your own, appreciative of the simplicity yet profound sentiment behind your wish.

"What a splendid wish, my lady," Namjoon praised, his admiration evident. With that, you cast your lunaris shillings into the water—and in this moment, a sense of peace washes over you, filling the air with a quiet serenity, surrounded by those who cherish you, you feel truly alive.

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the path, you and your seven companions strolled toward the cozy cottage that served as your haven. Laughter echoed in the night air as the camaraderie among you all painted a picture of joy and carefree revelry. However, the joyful ambiance quickly shifted when you glimpsed your mother anxiously waiting in the doorway, a deep furrow of concern etched upon her brow.

Oblivious to the impending unease, you hastened towards her, your heart brimming with excitement for the shared supper with your parents and friends. Yet, your mother's countenance betrayed a different sentiment.

"Y/N, where on Earth have you all been?" she exclaimed, her voice edged with worry.

Perplexity clouded your once radiant expression. "What do you mean, Mother? We were merely frolicking in the woods, as is our wont."

"Something has occurred; we must make ready to depart," she urged, grasping your shoulders with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine. Her gaze then shifted to the perplexed and apprehensive faces of your friends, who formed a line behind you.

"Is everything alright, Amahra?" Namjoon inquired with a hint of trepidation.

(Amahra is an endearing term used to address a woman who holds a nurturing and motherly role in someone's life. It is often used with great respect and affection, to acknowledge a maternal figure in the Astrithian language. The overall pronunciation would be similar to "ah-MAH-rah," with a slight rolling of the "r" if you're comfortable doing so.)

A rueful chuckle escaped her lips. "My dear Zarëln, I regret to inform you that you must return to your homes and families."

(In Astrithian, an endearing term used by elders or those in a nurturing role to affectionately address a younger person can be "Zarël," pronounced as "Zah-rehl." This term signifies a sense of protection and guidance, expressing a bond likened to that of a parent and child. To refer to more than one child, you would pluralize it as "Zarëln," pronounced as "Zah-reln.")

"It is urgent for all of us, and for all of you. My farewells must be swift, I'm afraid," she added.

"Mother, what troubles you?" you asked, a somber worry shading your features.

Kneeling down, she gently replied, "I shall explain later, my daughter." Turning to your seven friends, who remained rooted in confusion, she implored, "You all must go now!"

"Return home, my Zarëln, promptly!" she softly commanded, tears glistening in her eyes unbeknownst to you and your friends.

"We shall take our leave then," Namjoon declared, cutting through the bewildering silence. The decision was made for the group, yet the youngest, Jungkook, hesitated.

"But, Namjoon..." His gaze shifted between Namjoon, you and your mother, his reluctance evident as he grappled between concern for you and an unspoken fear lingering in the atmosphere.

"She has requested our departure twice already. Let us not compel her to utter it a third time. We leave now," Namjoon asserted, directing his gaze to Jungkook and the rest of the boys, his eyes emanating a commanding authority beyond his years.

Turning to face you and your mother, Namjoon offers a reassuring smile. "We'll see each other again, Y/N—remember," he says, his words carrying a promise that stirs something deep within you, reminiscent of the wish you made not long ago at the magical waters.

With a final nod, Namjoon led the boys away from your home. Each of them bid their farewells, waving at you with a mixture of solemnity and promise.

As the seven companions gradually disappeared from view, your mother ushered you inside the quaint cottage. She pulled you along by your wrist, and inside, you found your father in a state of hurried activity, stuffing various items into a sizable cloth pouch.

"Father... Why are you packing? What's happening? Mother won't tell me anything," you inquire, your innocence tinged with concern.

Your father halted his frenzied movements and fixed his gaze on you, his eyes holding a gentleness that momentarily softened the gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry, my little enchantress. But the times have changed now. You and your mother may be in danger, and we must flee from here to keep all of us safe."

"What...? Why, Father?" Your voice trembles with emotion, betraying the sadness that grips your heart at the news.

"Children!" The mothers of the seven boys exclaimed, their figures silhouetted against the dim lamplight of the late evening, their faces etched with concern as they awaited their sons coming from their Quadravicar.

(Quadravicar: its name, derived from the fusion of "Quadra" for four and "Vicar," symbolizes both its capacity and its role as a symbol of prestige and status in the kingdom.)

"Mother, what's the matter? It's unusual to find you all gathered like this upon our return from Y/N's," Jin remarked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as he and his friends approached their mothers.

"Where are our fathers? Is there some sort of gathering?" Jin inquired without pausing for an answer to his initial query. The mothers exchanged furtive glances, a silent exchange laden with unspoken tension, while Jin's keen eyes caught sight of the Quandrivaeon.

(Quandrivaeon: The term combines elements of "Quadr-" for four passengers and wheels, and "Vaeon," a unique, exotic-sounding word evoking elegance and regality. The Quandrivaeon would be the epitome of luxury and sophistication, exclusively reserved for the royal family)

"The royal family in attendance?" Jin's brows furrowed in confusion. "Mother, please, enlighten us."

"We've came from a state of perplexity, as well. Y/N's mother hurried our farewells, urging an immediate return home," Jin continued to gaze intently at his mother, silently demanding an explanation.

Finally relenting with a soft, resigned sigh, his mother confessed, "I regret to inform you, but the royal family has orchestrated an emergency meeting with your fathers."

"An emergency meeting for what purpose?" Namjoon interjected, stepping forward with equal concern.

"A new Arcantia is to be established," Namjoon's mother interjected, noticing the other six mothers hesitated to respond, their glances fraught with reluctance.

(Arcantia: A fusion of "Arcane" and "Centuries," representing magical eras lasting a hundred years. Arcantia symbolizes the ever-changing weave of magic throughout the ages.)

"What do you mean by 'a new Arcantia'?" Hoseok's eyes widened in trepidation, sensing the gravity of the impending revelation.

"Yes, my dear children, a new Arcantia is set to commence—an Arcantia where all magic, and all who wield it, shall be expunged from the Kingdom of Pentaraegis," Namjoon's mother finally clarified.

"Banished? Magic, banned?" Jin's disbelief rang out, echoing the incredulity shared by his companions.

"That is correct, my son." Jin's mother nodded in solemn. But to them, the boys, it seemed so feigned.

The rest of the boys stood in shock and disbelief, grappling with the revelation. The abrupt prohibition of magic, so deeply intertwined with their kingdom, appeared surreal.

"For what reason?" Hoseok questioned, skepticism evident in his voice.

Their mothers exchanged glances, silently communicating with one another through their eyes, further intensifying the boys' frustration.

"Mother!" The simultaneous exclamation from the seven boys reverberated, causing their mothers to flinch involuntarily.

"We don't wish to alarm you, but unsettling whispers have circulated regarding a formidable group of witches. They seek to annex territories within our kingdom and forge alliances with covens and solitary witches alike. Your fathers, in alliance with the royal family, are marshaling forces to safeguard Pentaraegis and secure our collective future," explained Jin's mother, her eyes conveying a mix of sorrow and determination.

The weight of this revelation sent shockwaves through the faces of all seven boys. "But— but that's treason... Surely those witches comprehend the gravity of their actions," stuttered Jimin, his words hanging in the air like a lingering mist.

The countenances of their mothers mirrored the weight of the truth they had just disclosed. They understood the turbulent emotions surging within their sons upon learning of the imminent conflict. The witches' desire to claim Pentaraegis lands hinted at an impending war between two factions: the mundane humans and the witches.

In the midst of the heavy silence, Yoongi broke through with a voice that, despite his quiet nature, cut through the tension like a blade. "Is there more you wish to disclose?" His eyes remained fixed on the ground, an uncharacteristic intensity in his gaze.

"These rebellious witches have already seized control of several lands and are poised to claim another as we speak," Yoongi's mother revealed, her words landing like a solemn decree.

"W-where? Is it close by?" Jungkook's fear-laden voice trembled, his wide eyes glistening like twin constellations.

"No, thank the Gods. It's at the border of Auraventia," replied Yoongi's mother, a slight glimmer of relief accompanying her words.

"No..." Jungkook's voice trailed off, a tremor evident in his whisper, the horror mirrored in the collective visages of his companions.

"Why the distress, children?" Jin's mother inquired, her concern palpable.

"We've just returned there, or thereabouts," Jin interjected. "B-But Y/N! Her and her family is still there!"

Jin's concern resonated in his voice, mirrored by the anxious expressions of the rest of six young boys. The looming threat was not a mere abstraction; it was approaching the very doorstep of your home.

"We must extend our aid!" Hoseok exclaimed, a fervent determination in his eyes.

"No. You shall not!" Hoseok and Yoongi's mother asserted.

"And why should we not! They're in danger!" Jin exclaimed, his determination etched in the lines of his face.

"You'd be putting yourselves and all of us in jeopardy. Only a select few of us are privy to the full extent of the situation. Furthermore, we have already dispatched some of our men to aid them," Hoseok's mother reasoned with a firm resolve.

"Wait—That explains Y/N's mother hastening our farewells..." Namjoon mused aloud, prompting all the young men to turn their attention to him, eager for his insight.

Jimin silently nodded, affirming Namjoon's observation. "And did you catch that she urged Y/N to hasten her preparations..."

Taehyung furrowed his brow in contemplation, raising his gaze. "Hold on, were you all aware of this impending danger?"

Their collective silence was an admission, a realization that dawned upon them in this very moment. "And yet, you chose to withhold such crucial information from the outset!"

Jin and Namjoon turned back to their mothers, awaiting some form of explanation. "You are all truly incredulous."

Without a moment's hesitation, the seven determined young boys strode into the opulent cottage, boldly disrupting the pivotal meeting between their fathers and the royal family. The entry door was left agape in a brazen act, while their anxious mothers trailed closely behind.

"How long?" Namjoon demanded, the first to speak.

"Boys! How rude of you to barge in like this," scolded Namjoon's father with a stern tone, swiftly silenced by Namjoon's insistence. "How long were you all aware of this?!"

Gathered around a grand oval wooden table, the men, in collaboration with the King and Queen, surrounded a detailed map of the kingdom. Marked statues adorned specific locations, seemingly representing annexed territories claimed by rebellious witches. Other cryptic markers littered the tableau, leaving the boys uneasy about the ominous implications.

The seven boys darted their eyes between the unsettling symbols on the table and the elders, awaiting an explanation.

"Namjoon, boys, you can't simply demand answers like that," attempted Namjoon's mother to pacify them.

"No, the safety of our people is at stake, and none of you have uttered a word. My questions are justified," asserted Namjoon. Despite his youth, his intellect surpassed his peers, comprehending matters typically reserved for adults.

"You informed them?" Jin's father scrutinized the mothers, who wore guilt on their faces, confirming his suspicion.

"They are your children; their curiosity is unavoidable," the King interjected, diffusing the tension.

Jin, with a quizzical expression, stared at the King. "Answer the question: how long were you all aware of this dire situation?"

"Seokjin! Mind your tone with His Majesty," reprimanded Jin's father, but Jin, fixated on the King, ignored the warning, fearing the worst for you.

"I apologize for my son's tone, your Majesty," Jin's father pleaded.

The King, however, smiled and shook his head in understanding. "It's alright; fear is inevitable. To answer your query, young one, these rumors began circulating three auroas ago, and we only confirmed them just an auroa ago. Hence, your parents couldn't inform you earlier."

Hobi, perceiving an ominous aura from the red markers on the map, inquired, "What do the other markers signify?"

“Hoseok!” Hobi’s mother scolded.

The King's smile returned, though this time it bore a hint of feigned warmth, perhaps even a touch of sinister undertones. The boys couldn't quite grasp it, but they remained attentive to the King's response. "Oh, those represent the areas in our kingdom where we've dispatched our most esteemed military men for what we might term loyalty investigations."

"Loyalty investigations? Such a concept eludes my ears," Namjoon declared, narrowing his eyes. "And what transpires during these so-called 'loyalty investigations'?"

"Well, it's akin to a specialized inquiry led by the King's elite soldiers to ensure no one undermines the kingdom's stability. They visit households, pose questions, and guarantee the safety of our cherished realm. It's a kind of elaborate game of hide-and-seek, where they seek out those who may not fully grasp the importance of loyalty. Remember, unwavering support for the royal family is paramount. It's akin to a stern lesson; their language may be forceful, but it serves to underscore the imperative of unity," Yoongi's mother interjected, choosing her words carefully.

Namjoon, however, with his keen intellect, saw through the carefully crafted explanation. "So, you've instituted a military inquisition?"

"Namjoon—! Pardon my son's audacity, your Majesty," Namjoon's father hissed, bowing slightly to the King.

"What about those innocent in the matter?" Jimin asked with genuine concern in his tone.

"They, too, shall be implicated," Jimin's father promptly replied. "Now, all of you boys, leave this room at once, no more questions."

"Take them away," he ordered, motioning toward their mothers.

As they were unceremoniously dragged away in protest by their mothers, Hoseok's perceptive eyes caught something that seized his immediate interest – a red marker, situated on a land he intimately knew, sending shivers down his spine.

The border of Auraventia.

His eyes widened. "Wait!"

"We recognize that place! Why is Y/N's residence marked?" Hoseok questioned in a panic, breaking free from his mother's grip.

Upon hearing Hoseok's revelation, the remaining boys also swiftly broke free, their concern escalating for you, now aware that the red markers signified an inquisition for her household. The gravity of the situation deepened, understanding that you and your family residing at the border of Auraventia, was the sole target.

"What?!! Why?!!" the seven of them chorused.

"I can assure you, Your Majesty, Y/N and her family are innocent!" Jin pleaded, unwittingly shedding a watery sting, echoed by the other six boys, revealing the profound concern they held for you.

"I thought you were seeking and reprimanding witches, not targeting humans too?" Hoseok exclaimed in worry.

"Oh, you all must be mistaken—" The King began to reply, but his wife, the Queen, interrupted, glancing at him and shaking her head discreetly, directing his attention to the seven mothers with pleading faces, silently conveying, "These boys don't know the whole truth."

This prompted the King to reconsider. "Well, young ones, you'd be surprised how often humans align themselves with those not of their kind. As the ruler and protector of my kingdom, I must take all necessary safety measures. Do you all understand?"

Though the King framed his words with an air of nobility and concern, it failed to resonate with the boys. Their thoughts were consumed by you and your safety.

"If that's to be the case, then we request to witness the inquisition. To ensure a fair process for both your soldiers and Y/N and her family," Namjoon suggested.

"Absolutely not," Namjoon's father affirmed.

"Father!" Namjoon exclaimed in defiance.

"Enough, Namjoon; it needs to be done!" his father replied assertively.

Jimin, with a fervent gleam in his eyes, threw his stance into the fray. "And what of her mother and father? Are you all forgetting Y/N's parents are your dear friends just like Y/N is to us! Do you have no faith in them?" he argued, his words laced with a blend of concern and exasperation.

"Jimin, my child, this is what is necessary for all of us, don't you all understand that?" Jimin's mother interjected, her tone a mixture of sympathy and determination, attempting to calm the rising storm.

"But at the expense of our dear friends?! We will not accept this!" Jin's voice rang out, his frustration mirroring Jimin's.

"We're going. Whether you all like it or not," Namjoon declared, his gaze unwavering, his resolve like iron.

"And we've told you, you shall not!" Namjoon's father objected, his voice laced with authority, yet tinged with a hint of desperation.

In response, Namjoon lifted his chin defiantly, a silent proclamation of his unwavering resolve. He and his friends had made up their minds on how to proceed with the situation. You held a significance that transcended familial ties. You are not just a friend; you are a vital part of their lives. The circumstance puzzled them – how their parents, despite being friends with your parents, harbored an air of inequity towards them.

"Everyone, run to the Quadravicar!" Namjoon urgently commanded his six companions, swiftly pivoting and taking off with them.  The urgency in his voice spurred the group into action, a sense of rebellion fueling their movements.

"Namjoon! Boys, get back here!" The adults, voices raised in futile protest, attempted to chase after the departing group. The room erupted into a chaotic scene as the seven friends made a daring escape. The Quadravicar, their trusty steed, stood ready, its sleek form ready for the impending departure. With a swift motion, they mounted the vehicle, narrowly evading the grasp of pursuing fathers, as the Quadravicar surged forward with the speed of galloping horses, leaving the dissenting voices behind in the dust.

Merely moments ago, your family had readied themselves to abandon the safety of your cottage, fleeing the encroaching menace that had suddenly besieged your peaceful abode. It seemed as though fate had cruelly delivered a curse upon your doorstep, a curse that your family futilely tried to escape. As the door swung shut behind you, a dozen hooded women materialized, an ominous presence blocking your path.

"Ahvë, sē thōz klam, sēstrï," uttered a woman assumed to be the leader among the hooded ensemble, her voice echoing hauntingly across the somber scene. (translation: Hello, it's been so long, sister.)

"Why are you here?" your mother demanded, shielding you behind her while you clutched at her clothes, your fists tightening with anxiety.

"You are well aware of my purpose," replied the woman cryptically. "I come bearing a proposition."

"How ironic, after Lumiras of silence, now you come with a 'proposition'?" scoffed your mother, her tone laced with disdain. "I have no need of your offerings, sēstrï."

(A fusion of "Luminous" and "Era," Lumira represents ten years. It signifies periods of enlightenment and advancements in both magic and technology.)

A sly chuckle escaped the woman's lips. "Oh, but you may find it worth your while to listen."

With a deliberate motion, the woman cast aside her hood, revealing a countenance of unearthly allure—fair skin, with chiseled features, slim crimson heart-shaped lips curved in a beguiling smile, and eyes like shining emeralds. Yet beneath her beauty lurked a palpable menace, instilling fear in your heart despite her captivating facade.

"As you are aware, the royal family dispatched their most formidable military unit to apprehend you all—perhaps excluding the seemingly inconsequential human male by your side," she began, advancing purposefully toward your mother and you, each step resonating with ominous intent.

"And what do you think they'll do to you and that child of yours, given your bloodline?" she posed, her voice laden with sinister implications.

"Their declaration of a new Arcantia is nothing but an excuse to exterminate all living witches, our bloodline, simply because we've proven to be stronger and more powerful than them," the woman explained, a mocking laughter escaped her lips. "We've wounded their ego, it appears..."

Your mother narrowed her eyes, a clear defiance in her gaze. "No, it's because you're committing treason. You're seizing their land and unjustly punishing innocents who possess no magic. Your actions have invited their wrath."

Feigning weariness, the woman sighed, "You are naive and blindly loyal to those who would betray you. You've forgotten how closely you've approached an enemy patiently biding their time."

Now orbiting you and your parents, she condescendingly mused, "Normalcy is a luxury denied to us, given our bloodline. Yours is a life destined for anything but the ordinary."

"And your talk of treason is but a veil," she continued. "I seek only to reveal our true nature as witches, among the most formidable entities in existence, to those who would subjugate us. The time has come for them to bow to our supremacy."

"These lands was once ours—do you not remember?"

Indignant, your mother argued, "Yes, those lands was once ours, but history has unfolded, and we must adapt. Your actions only validate their fears, pushing them to extremes."

To this, the woman responded, "Adaptation is a luxury you cannot afford, ensconced in your delusions. Our roots run deep, and reclaiming what is rightfully ours necessitates drastic measures."

Your mother furrowed her brows in disagreement, "This is not the way. We can't stoop to their level. It's not who we are."

She furrowed her brow in frustration. "You know, you speak of treason, yet it is you who have betrayed our kind, aligning with our adversaries," she accused.

She then sighs with an air of indifference, beginning to walk away from you and your parents. "Well, it's too late now..."

Your mother's head shook in a plea. "No, it's not too late—please, Veranōthi."

(A female name in Astrithian meaning "beauty of night". The overall pronunciation would be: "Vay-rahn-aw-thee.")

At the mention of her name, Veranōthi halted, her posture stiffening. She emitted a mocking chuckle. "You remain unchanged, Sorëi," she muttered with a derisive tone.

(A female name in Astrithian meaning "heaven's light". "Sorëi" is pronounced as "saw-ray.")

With a thoughtful lift of her head, she contemplated for a brief moment. Veranōthi then pivoted back towards your family, before morphing into a narrowed gaze with a sinister gleam. "As I was saying, you've been branded as traitors..."

"And so now, you have two choices, as my proposition: align with us or face dire consequences at the hands of your 'allies'—or I could rid you or your abomination child myself," she proposed, a cruel smile curling on her lips.

"She is but a child, devoid of fault. Have you no mercy?" implored your mother.

"She defies the natural order, a product of forbidden magic." Veranōthi retorted. "You meddled with forces best to be left alone, bringing forth one who should have remained in the realm of shadows—An anomaly that challenges the very fabric of existence."

"She is my daughter, and I am a mother—a mother who would defy the heavens for her child," your mother asserted resolutely. "A sentiment you, devoid of such maternal bonds, cannot comprehend."

The tension thickened as the confrontation reached its climax, the air heavy with the weight of impending choices and irreparable consequences.

"I trust you haven't forgotten I am not one to entertain indecision. Sentiment holds no sway here. Choose wisely," Veranōthi warned, her voice tinged with impatience. "It's quite simple, you see..."

"You claim motherhood... wouldn't you desire to witness your child flourish into a powerful witch among us? Joining forces with me and our kind is the logical path forward," she urged, attempting to persuade your mother.

"And consider the vast potential we could unlock with our combined magic, alongside your child," she added with a smirk.

Your mother seemed momentarily swayed, her brows furrowing in contemplation. Sensing her hesitation, your father intervened. "Sorëi, do not heed her words. They are but lies meant to deceive."

Veranōthi's expression soured at your father's rebuttal, and with a swift gesture, her hand illuminated with magic. "Silence, mortal," she hissed, casting an enchantment that caused your father's lips to seal as if stitched together.

His eyes widened in realization, and your mother, cognizant of the sorcery at play, lifted her gaze, alarmed by the silent coercion. "Don't you dare use your magic on my husband!"

"Fëstöl." Your mother says with enchantment, gracefully waving her hand in the air illuminating her hand with her own magic, undoing the magically coercion done by her fellow witch.

(translation: unbind. "Fëstöl" is pronounced as "fay-stohl". pronounce "stohl," where "st" is pronounced as in English, and "öl" is pronounced like "aw" in "saw.")

Your mother then shifts her eyes to Veranōthi with seriousness. "You can try push your limits with your magic on the royal family and other humans Veranōthi, but I will not allow it on my family."

"There is a line you do not cross, and I am warning you."

Veranōthi begins to giggle then morphs into a laughing then a manic laugh. "You must be joking. Are you threatening me, Sorëi?"

"You—out of all people. An Ëzaraulthi?" She continues to laugh.

(Ëzaraulthi are witches who dedicate themselves to the benevolent use of magic, focusing on healing, medicine, and protection)

"I could never humor you. I guess you must forgetting that Ëzaraulthi are ones who will protect by any means neccesary, even if it means duelling with her own kind. Something we're all familiar, don't you think?"

"Do not kid yourself Sorëi, you're outnumbered." The emerald eyes hardening towards your mother.

Your mother smirks with a tilt of her head. "You're also forgetting, I'm a part of the Thallörin, as an Aroshëra."

(Thallörin is a governing body that unites the most adept witches from each coven, suggesting a group that possesses profound knowledge and influence within the mystical realms of Astrithian culture, it is pronounced as "Thahl-aw-reen."

Aroshëra term for the most expert healer within the governing body of adept witches, known for their ability to mend both physical and magical wounds, and expertise in protection magic and defense with light magic.)

Veranōthi loses her smile, into a frown. "Fine, have it your way. Your doom is now here."

Suddenly, the tranquil ambiance shattered as a rain of pure iron arrows descended upon your group. Gasps echoed through the air as the witches, including your family, recoiled at the unexpected assault. Iron, a notorious weakness for witches, posed an imminent threat, casting an unsettling shadow over the battlefield.

However, the unexpected twist wasn't limited to the iron arrows. The royal military elite wielded a peculiar device—a compact contraption emitting a high-frequency sound. The resonating waves temporarily immobilized the witches, leaving them vulnerable to the approaching soldiers.

Chaos erupted as the clash unfolded. Your father, despite being human, demonstrated remarkable combat skills, engaging in a dance of blades with the royal military elite. Magic surged through the air as your mother and the remaining witches retaliated, a symphony of spells colliding against the iron-clad attackers.

Veranōthi's commanding voice pierced through the chaos. "They're using iron! Cowards, kill these humans, sisters! Kill them all!"

Amidst the chaos, Veranōthi's eyes bore into your mother's, the weight of years of animosity palpable. "Don't you see, they're finding our weakness and trying to kill us. It's either them or us."

Your mother, undeterred, raised her hands, creating a shimmering barrier that deflected a barrage of magical attacks. "There is strength in mercy, and wisdom in finding common ground. We are all bound by the threads of magic; there must be a way to end this without plunging into the abyss."

Veranōthi scoffed, her expression hardening. "You're naive, Sorëi. Our survival depends on our ability to eradicate those who seek to subjugate us. To show mercy now is to court destruction."

As the battle raged on, you watched your mother, determined to protect both sides from unnecessary casualties, her gaze swept across the battlefield, assessing the toll of the conflict. The witches—albeit wounded, writhed in pain, fueled by desperation and the fear of annihilation, unleashed a torrent of magical prowess, while the air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt magic.

In the distance, your father continued his valiant struggle against the military elite, his combat skills proving formidable, while your mother attempted to reason with Veranōthi.

Unable to ignore the urgency of the situation, your mother's voice rose above the chaos. "Cease this madness! Our powers are formidable, but so is the cost of this unrestrained violence. We can end this conflict without further bloodshed."

Veranōthi, unyielding, countered, "Bloodshed is the language of war, Sorëi. Do not delude yourself into thinking otherwise."

"Even in war, there's room for mercy. We can find a compromise that spares both our kind and theirs."

As the two sides clashed, a surge of magical energy enveloped Veranōthi. She channeled her power, creating dark ethereal tendrils that snaked through the air, seeking to ensnare the military elite. The soldiers, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, struggled against the mystical bonds.

Your mother seized the opportunity, her eyes ablaze with determination. "This is not the path we should tread. There is a choice beyond this carnage."

Veranōthi's response was a defiant laugh, echoing across the battlefield. "Choices are but illusions, Sorëi. We are bound by destiny, and our destiny is to triumph over those who would oppress us."

Just then, a realization dawned upon your mother. The witches, driven by a relentless desire for vengeance, were no longer open to reason. She grappled with the realization that sometimes, the pursuit of peace required confronting the harsh realities of war. The battle had escalated beyond control, and she knew that a more decisive action was necessary to prevent further devastation.

With a focused gaze, your mother directed her magic towards the magical bonds Veranōthi had woven. The dark ethereal tendrils began to unravel, releasing the military elite from their magical restraints. As the soldiers regained their freedom, Veranōthi's expression twisted into a mixture of fury and disbelief.

"You would betray your own kind for these oppressors?" Veranōthi accused, her voice laced with bitterness.

Your mother met Veranōthi's gaze unwaveringly. "I seek not betrayal but understanding. We can coexist without perpetuating this cycle of hatred and violence."

The military elite, now liberated, regrouped with renewed determination. Your father, displaying an astonishing level of prowess, fighting against them. The battleground shifted, no longer a standoff between witches and your family but a united front against the oppressive forces of the royal family.

Veranōthi, unwilling to concede defeat, unleashed a wave of destructive magic. The earth trembled beneath the onslaught, and a torrent of energy surged towards your mother and the allied forces.

With a swift motion, your mother conjured a protective barrier, shielding the group from the impending onslaught. "This ends now, Veranōthi. We can create a world where magic is not a weapon but a force for unity."

The battle raged on, the clash of magic and steel echoing through the night. The air crackled with energy as both sides pushed their limits, each moment carrying the weight of a decision that would shape the future.

As Veranōthi's eyes suddenly glowed with an ominous light, a shiver ran down your spine, and the air seemed to grow heavy with an unsettling energy. Your mother, catching sight of this eerie transformation, couldn't hide the fear that widened her eyes. "Veranōthi, what are you doing!?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with concern.

"Since you don't want to make the tough decision, I will make it for you. Ëzal vruunithi, kethir shalnith vroha, uzin gathithi," she intones in the archaic Astrithian tongue, her voice distorting with each syllable.

(translation: "I call upon this mother energy, giving me strength")

Your mother's eyes widen in horror as Veranōthi's sinister powers surge, setting her fingertips ablaze with an otherworldly energy. The dark magic courses through her, and with an abrupt turn, her gaze locks onto you. A small figure, cowering behind wooden wagons that offer meager protection from the escalating chaos, suddenly becomes the focal point of Veranōthi's malevolent intent.

Veranōthi's arms weave intricate patterns in the air, casting spells that propel her magic toward you without warning. Time seems to slow as the ethereal bullets of energy hurtle towards your defenseless form.

Unbeknownst to both you and Veranōthi, your mother, fueled by an unyielding maternal love, charges forth in a desperate attempt to shield you from the imminent threat hurtling your way. Recognizing the potent enchantment the moment it escaped Veranōthi's lips, she comprehends the perilous nature of her chosen course.

Blocking may prove futile, and deflecting the dark magic poses its own challenges, so she makes the heart-wrenching decision to absorb the brunt of the attack. As a light magic user, such absorption could prove detrimental, but as your mother, she's willing to make that sacrifice for your survival.

As the seconds dwindled, your mother, defying the constraints of time, positioned herself just in the nick of it. She gestured swiftly, intending to deflect and absorb the magic, but miscalculations led her to absorb the full force of Veranōthi's dark energies. The impact propels her backward, slamming against the wooden wagon before landing roughly in front of you.

In your distress, you find yourself scrambling towards your mother, who lay sprawled before you, battered by the force of the dark incantation.

"Mother!" you wail, your eyes welling up with tears as you approach, desperate to render aid, though the gravity of the situation seems beyond your young capabilities. Making you torn between a desperate desire to help and the harsh reality that there may be little you can do.

Veranōthi's satisfaction lingered in the air, her dark powers momentarily appeased by the release of the potent spell. A triumphant sneer adorned her face as she surveyed the scene. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you beheld your mother's frail form, fading under the weight of her injuries.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream shatters the air. With a sickening twist of your neck, you behold a ghastly scene: your father, battered and bloodied, kneels before two of the royal family's elite soldiers.

One plunges his sword deep into your father's abdomen, the steel emerging slick with crimson. The other, with a cruel gleam in his eye, raises his blade for a decapitating strike. As the blade arcs downward, it meets flesh with a sickening thud, separating your father's head from his body. Blood gushes forth in a grotesque fountain, drenching the ground in a pool of crimson horror.

Your heart raced as despair gripped you, but resolve surged within. Your parents' lives hung in the balance, and you would not allow them to perish without a fight.

In a surge of unknowable power, you bellowed, "Stop!" Dark blue magical energy radiated from within you, slicing through the air like a spectral blade. The arcane force engulfed all in its path—witches and soldiers alike. Those touched by the magic found themselves ensnared by an otherworldly fire, immune to any attempt at extinguishing it, save for the one who had summoned it—none other than you.

Yet, the remaining witches, including the cunning Veranōthi, exhibited a combination of skill and luck. They swiftly conjured a magical barrier, shielding themselves from the lethal flames that devoured their comrades. The unlucky few screamed in agony as they succumbed to the relentless blaze, their demise haunting the air with the stench of burning flesh.

The gruesome spectacle dawned upon Veranōthi with a sudden realization. You, the summoner of this inferno, were the Zalvokraël of their time. A choice loomed before her: to slay you in your vulnerable state as you attempted to tend to your mother or to spare you, recognizing the potential you held—the makings of the most powerful witch. Persuading you to join their cause could prove invaluable, and after a contemplative moment, she chose the latter.

"Sisters, our task here is complete. I sense a group approaching. Let us depart immediately," she commands, and with traces of glowing magic subtly left behind, they vanish into the air.

However, you pay no heed to the burning bodies, your focus solely on your mother. "Mother..." Your voice quivers, tears finally falling from your cheeks.

Her weary but loving eyes met yours, and she managed a gentle lip-smile. "Fear not, my child. I chose this fate to ensure your survival. You must carry on from this point forward."

The air hung heavy with sorrow as you cradled your mother, her life slipping away like grains of sand through your desperate fingers. "I don't know if I can go on without you," you whispered, the weight of the impending loss settling upon your shoulders.

With a weakening hand, she touched your cheek. "You are strong, my love. The power within you, it will guide you. Embrace it, and remember, I will always be a part of you." Her voice wavered but held an underlying strength.

The battlefield lay strewn with the aftermath of the clash, the acrid scent of burning magic permeating the air. As the last embers of the magical fire dwindled, leaving behind scorched remnants, you clung to the fading warmth of your mother's presence.

In the distance, a Quadravicar approached. Your mother's breaths grew shallower, her life force slipping away. "Mother, please, don't leave me," you pleaded, desperation and grief intertwining in your voice.

She drew you closer, her breaths becoming faint whispers. "Listen closely, my child. Your path ahead is uncertain, but within you lies a power that can shape destinies. Find allies, trust in yourself, and remember, love is a force that transcends even the darkest of times."

A solemn silence enveloped the battlefield as your mother's eyes dimmed, her final words echoing in your heart. Then, a distant yet hurried echo of light footsteps resonated through the desolate air, piercing the eerie silence that hung heavy over the charred remnants of a once serene landscape.

"Y/N!" The call reached your ears, a familiar voice cutting through the haunting aftermath of destruction. You recognized it instantly.

"Y/N, where are you?" The urgent cries continued, pulling your attention away from the heart-wrenching scene that surrounded you. Your tear-blurred eyes strained to focus, but you knew those voices belonged to your dearest seven friends. Against all odds, they had returned for you.

"Y/N!" Their collective voices rose, echoing through the night as they desperately scanned the tragic tableau for your presence.

As one of them spotted you, his eyes lit up with joy. "Guys! I found her, she's right there! Y/N!"

Tears of relief mingled with the sorrow streaming down your cheeks as all seven of them sprinted toward you. "Y/N!"

They reached you, their frantic expressions shifting from worry to joy. However, as their eyes fell upon the devastation around you, their elation turned to disbelief. Your mother lay lifeless amidst the charred ruins.

Jungkook and Jimin sank to their knees beside her, shock and despair etched across their faces. They had been the closest to your mother, and the weight of grief bore down on them. "Amahra…"

"I'm sorry," you whispered. It wasn't your fault, yet guilt clung to you like a shadow, a child ensnared in the tragedy and horrors of war.

Namjoon took a deep breath, his eyes welling with tears as he approached you. "It's not your fault, Y/N."

"She tried to save me," you muttered, your lip quivering as you met Namjoon's gaze with tearful eyes. The dam finally broke, and you sobbed, collapsing into Namjoon's comforting embrace.

The rest of them, too, shared in your silent grief. Quiet sobs and sniffles intermingled with the palpable sorrow among you all. They may have considered your parents as their own, and your parents may have embraced them as their own children, but the depth of your grief was incomprehensible to them.

In the midst of the mourning, an air of somber determination settled over Namjoon's features. "We need to leave this place. It's not safe here."

The others nodded in agreement, their expressions grim. Jungkook and Jimin reluctantly tore themselves away from your mother's lifeless form, their eyes swollen with tears. The group huddled together, forming a protective circle around you.

As you clung to Namjoon, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Your home, once a sanctuary, now lay in ruins. The stars overhead bore witness to the tragedy, their distant gleam offering no solace.

Your group moves forward, navigating the desolate landscape with a heavy heart. Moonlight filtered through the sparse clouds, casting an ethereal glow on the devastated world around you.

A/N: thank you for reading! <3333 the main reason i wrote this intro was to give some insight into the kind of character Y/N (you, the reader) will be later in the story, based on the past Y/N suffers from. it also helps to lay the groundwork for future scenes and establish the kind of friendship you have with the boys from the beginning.

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

[angel1cjules]

forbidden love pt.1

"I'd get my hands dirty in order to kiss you one more time..." PAIRING - assassin!reader x enemy's assassin!jk WARNINGS - lots of blood <3, name calling, mentions of kidnapping and r@pe, unprotected sex ( wrap it up! ), fingering, dom!jk x sub!reader, overstimulation, lots of needy kisses, forbidden relationship between jk and reader, jk would do basically anything for reader to kiss him one more time. enemies to lovers au WORD COUNT - 612 a/n - YALL HAVE BEEN SO SUPPORTIVE WHAT- TYSM. I hope you enjoy this ;) ✂---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Y/N!" Your boss called. It's another bloody day at work. You wish you didn't end up as an assassin but you did. You had to kill so much people, so much rivals of your boss to be known as one of the most dangerous female assassins in Korea. You were trusted to do any killings the boss needed. "Y/N." Your boss called once again, snapping you out of your daydream. "What has got you thinking like that?" your boss questioned. "Yoongi, why do you care?" you reply, stretching your arms across the table. Min Yoongi, one of the most powerful mafia bosses of this country, had fallen prey to your rude yet sarcastic replies. "Y/N, I need you to kill my ex-best friend, Namjoon." he said, getting straight to the point. Your eyes widen, Namjoon? Yoongi sensed your confusion and quickly added "He killed some of our guys last night. Along with that, his assassin, Jungkook, or whatever his name was, killed my partner, Hoseok." You slowly nod, planning Namjoon's demise in your head already. "Did he know that he killed your workers?" you ask him before leaving. "Pretty sure he did because I didn't send over the drugs he asked for," Yoongi said, looking at his computer. "Alright, when do you want the job done?" you say, grabbing your Lululemon duffle bag which held all your weapons. "Within tonight since he's going out of town tomorrow," he said, glancing over at your seemingly innocent duffle bag. You nod and head out of the room, preparing yourself for the blood to be shed tonight. ✂---------------------------------------------------------------------------- You go to the local rage room and pick out a katana. You know which room to practice in as this isn't your first or last time being here. You see 2 men in your room, slashing away at the punching bag or the air. You put in your headphones and begin slashing. Little did you know, those 2 men in the room were Jungkook and Jimin, assassins of other mafia bosses. "Damn, she's hot as fuck" Jimin remarks, checking out your perfect body. "Dude, back off, she's mine" Jungkook smirks. You were minding your own business when SLASH! A katana slashed through your upper arm, letting blood gush out. "FUCK, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to" Jungkook immediately rushed to you and held your arm tightly. "You assholes, why the fuck can't you practice further away!?" you yell at the older men. Jimin rushed to you with a first aid kit, leading you to think you think that this isn't the first time they slashed someone. "Get the fuck off of me" you try pushing Jungkook's hand away but his grip was too tight. "If I let go, you're gonna lose a shit ton of blood." he replied coldly. Jimin wrapped your wound with a bandage and apologized so many times for a mistake he didn't commit. You left the room, annoyed and in a little bit of pain. This wound was a scratch compared to all your other scars. ✂---------------------------------------------------------------------------- An hour later, you finally got to Namjoon's hideout where he was staying. You wore a skin-tight black suit that covered your torso, legs and half of your elbow. Below your elbow, you wore gloves. You wore a hood to hide your identity. Your movements were as light as a feather as you didn't want any attention while you were sneaking in. You finally found a window that was open and slowly crept in. You landed on your feet with a thud and when you were closing the window, you felt a hand slither around your waist and another hand muffle your mouth.