#but trailing this group of teenagers is really his preferred option lmao

[dr-pipis]

motherfucker do you not have anywhere better to be

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

ALSO another idea is that she’s practicing her patronus with Dumbledores army and she realise that hers and George’s is the same patronus (I think it’s a magpie) from that moment on you knew you were soulmates, but both too shy to say anything! You end up kissing in the room of requirement, also please include her wearing his jumper, what it would smell like, how she just sleeps in that and he thinks it’s super cute okay I’ll stop now 😘

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SLOW WITH REQUESTS Y’ALL!!! Writers’ block is a struggle but I managed. Also, this request is everything I’m sorry if it’s bad :-( I did my best, also the end is so sweet I have type 2 diabetes now and that’s on yearning lmao xoxo all my best 

Warnings: None, fluff so sweet it will cause teeth problems probably

Word count: 2.094 (!!!?!?!) 

Merry Christmas. 

As much as the DA was fun, George really wished he could be headed to his dorm to pack up for the Christmas break. The group of teenagers were practising patronuses once more, and several students had succeeded, however, some, including Y/n and himself were still not getting it right. It was like his Patronus was purposefully hanging back. Whenever he’d cast the charm, a spurt of glowing white mist would emerge from his wand and then, right as he’d think he could see the shape take form it’d disappear. He would be getting frustrated but it helped he wasn’t alone and he enjoyed being partnered up with you. He’d been harbouring a crush on you for some time now but hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to tell you. For now, he was contented watching the way your eyes lit up when you almost got it right. 

***

“Alright, guys, you’ve done really really well on progress but I think it’s time to finish up, I’ll see you all after the break, okay?” Harry said. As people exchanged ‘happy holidays’ and so on you hesitated to pack up, you had almost gotten it, you were sure of it. Studying your wand, you felt a hand on your shoulder, 

“Hey, I was thinking we could stay a little longer and practice?” George’s eyes were smiling down at you, somehow you’d never noticed just how tall he was until now that he was standing right by you, 

“If you want?” He added when you didn’t reply. You quickly nodded, 

“It’s funny you should say that actually, I was just thinking the same thing,” You chuckled, “I just hope we’ll be able to avoid Filch on our way out,” you said, a twinkle in your eye as you smirked, 

“Don’t worry, L/n, I’ll be there to take the blame,” he winked at you before moving a little further away, getting ready to practice, you followed suit whilst trying very hard not to blush after he winked at you. 

You didn’t exactly know how long you’d spent practising when you finally got it right. At first, you’d taken turns, trying to coach each other but as time passed and you both got more impatient, you’d resolved to just casting it over and over, too deeply concentrated on your happiest memories to notice each other’s progress. 

Then finally, as you closed your eyes and focused hard on the happiest memories you could find, the day by the lake where Fred threw George into the lukewarm water, only to be pulled in mid-laugh himself, the time you’d first flown on a broom, your eleventh birthday when you saw the letter with the uncanny red wax seal waiting for you at the breakfast table. You could almost hear the laughs and exclaims of joys from your past as you yelled out: “Expecto Patronum!” 

You almost didn’t dare to open your eyes but this one felt right and so you looked,  nearly falling over from the sheer surprise: Right in front of you, a glowing magpie was flying in circles, as if testing its wings for the first time, it dove and rose up to the ceiling, where it was joined by another figure. Your first instinct was to congratulate George but then the two patronuses flew closer and you saw it;  two, identical magpies flying constantly near each other, following the other’s suit. It felt like your heart had stopped. Your mind raced as you slowly turned to face George, who was staring at you, his dark eyes glossy in the light of the patronuses. You stood there in silence, even when the animals faded and disappeared with a small ‘whoosh’, watching each other with the knowledge of what this meant. 

The walk up to the common room was silent which was extremely unusual for both you and George. The air was constantly filled with the sense of someone about to say something yet none of you spoke, instead, you walked up the stairs to the sound of snoring coming from the portraits. 

“Mooncalf,” George said it as soon as he saw the fat lady, in a serious voice that sounded so unlike him that it almost startled you. The portrait swung open allowing for the two of you walk into the deserted common room, you glanced at the clock, it was later than you’d thought. George turned and looked at you like he meant to say or do something but couldn’t. You took a shaky breath, 

“‘Night then,” you muttered gently before making your way towards the stairs leading to the dorms, 

“Y/n?” He called, you spun on the steps to face him, 

“Do you think we could practice again tomorrow? Since it’s the last day?” he asked, staring down at the floor whilst his hand tucked at a string on his jumper, you couldn’t believe that you’d made George Weasley nervous, 

“Sure, I’ll see you in the room of requirement after breakfast?” 

“That’d be great,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips,

***

Sneaking into the room of requirement had proved not to be difficult when you were with one of Hogwarts’ finest tricksters, however finding something to talk about that wasn’t centred around your patronuses and the now obvious fact that either the universe had played a huge trick on you or, the more probable option, you were in love. It became even more difficult to fill the air with small talk when you began practising, this time with ease your patronuses sprang from your wands, still identical, still seeking each other like they knew they were destined to be together. Each time you and George didn’t look at each other, you just stared at the birds until they vanished like you couldn’t believe it. You really couldn’t. 

“Y/n?” he then said, you looked up at the way he said it, nervously with a certain shakiness in his voice, “I- Erh,” he hesitated, you were sure your eyes were deceiving you, George Weasley didn’t look scared, did he? 

“You don’t suppose we could talk about it?” He said then immediately cringed a little, 

“I don’t know what there is to say,” you said bluntly, he almost looked a little taken aback, you cleared your throat. You could have sworn you hadn’t meant to sound so harsh but something about this whole situation frustrated you. Yes, you’d always liked George but you’d expected to let him know that yourself, in your own way, and even more importantly, in your own time. 

“I know, it’s just,” he trailed off, then stepped closer to you, “This whole thing feels really backwards, doesn’t it?” He admitted and chuckled, 

“I know!” You agreed, glad that he was able to express the way you’d felt, “I wish I could’ve had a do-over,” 

“Or a warning,” He said, and suddenly you were both laughing. Maybe this didn’t feel so unnatural as you’d thought? 

Moments later you were sitting down, talking everything over in what had to be the weirdest conversation you’d ever had; somehow George was even better of a match than you’d always hoped, he was literally like a missing half of you, 

“I dunno- I just always thought people liked Fred more,” He ran a hand through his hair, “He’s always been more outgoing and well,” “Loud?” you suggested, grinning, he let out a breathy chuckle, 

“yeah, well, I never really cared but when we came here, and people started mistaking me for him I just started assuming people preferred him, and then when I met you, I assumed the same so I never gathered the courage to ask you if you liked me.” He said, his grin disappearing from his face, it was probably the first time you’d ever seen George look so serious, nay heartbroken. First when he looked up and saw you frowning at him did his smile tug at his lips again, “I know it’s stupid,” he added, his hand running through his hair again, 

“No it’s not,” you said, “I get it, it must be really difficult having people confuse you for someone else,” George shrugged, “It is sometimes but mostly we use it to our favour so it’s not all bad,” he ended his sentence with a chuckle. There was a small lull in the conversation before you decided to break it, 

“I did like you - do like you, I mean,” you said, looking at your shoes as to not look into his eyes, 

“You do?” He asked, 

“Yeah, since like, our second year,” you laughed, it seemed ridiculous that you hadn’t said it before in the current circumstances, 

“Blimey, Y/n, and you never said anything!” he exclaimed, you reached out and poked him, “hey! You didn’t say anything either,” he fell back dramatically, “Good Lord, we could’ve saved so much time if we’d just confessed earlier,” he groaned, though his stomach bobbed with suppressed laughter, you smiled watching him with his hands over his eyes, 

“We were idiots,” 

“Morons,” 

“Completely out of it,”

“Fools, we were.” 

You both laughed again, your voices echoing a little in the empty room, then George sat up, “Well, since we’re soulmates now or whatever, can I confess something else?” He uttered, his voice quiet, you imagined this was the voice he used when suggesting a prank to Fred, you nodded, 

“There’s sort of something I’ve always wanted to do,” he said, moving closer, “I’ve just always been too shy,” 

you knew where he was going with this but you didn’t stop him, you did imagine your twelve-year-old self would be fainting right about now, though. His hand reached yours, 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, your cheeks were burning, 

“I think it would be wrong not to,” You said, and before you could wonder where you’d gotten the confidence to say that and smirk at him, he’d given you his token grin and moved in, pressing his lips against yours tenderly, his hand finding the back of your head, his thumb resting on your cheek, just above your jaw, the heat from it made you realise how chilly the room really was, your kiss broke with a soft wet smack. He pressed his forehead to yours, grinning as his other hand found your face, 

“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve imagined that,” he said, sounding a little breathless, the tone of his voice made butterflies erupt in your stomach, 

“Was it worth it?” you asked, he pressed his lips to yours again, “Definitely.” 

You stayed in the room of requirement for longer than you probably should’ve, considering you had a train to catch later but neither of you wanted to leave, that was until you checked your wristwatch and realised you had half an hour to make your way down to the carriages,  you walked up to the common-room hand in hand, chatting the entire way, as a complete contrast to the night before. 

***

“Promise me you’ll write?” he asked again, as people passed by you to find their families on platform 9 ¾ you placed your hands on his chest, “Yes, I promise now go, your family is waiting,” you giggled, he leaned down and kissed you goodbye for the now third time, not that you minded at all, 

“Oh!” He broke the kiss-off abruptly, “I haven’t gotten you a Christmas present,” he said, 

“No, of course, you haven’t, we got together literally today, George,” you laughed, 

“Still - Wait I know!” he blurted before darting to the ground, tearing open his trunk, causing varied reactions from his family, his brothers laughing, Ginny hiding her face in her hands in an attempt to hide a giggle, his mother exclaiming “George!” and his father chuckling behind his sons, 

“Here,” George stretched out a hand, in it he clutched his Christmas jumper from that year, “It’s not much but it’s all I can offer right now,” your face was blushing deeply, he was too good to be true, 

“You really didn’t-” 

“I insist,” he smirked, you took it. 

“Alright then, happy Christmas, George,” you said, tip-toeing to place a kiss on his cheek, though you only reached his jaw, he tilted his head and placed a quick kiss on your lips, 

“Merry Christmas, Y/n.” He said. 

You spent the rest of the day in his sweater, the smell of him; something warm and toasty with a hint of pine forest and firecrackers and a tinge of something else you could never place but always made you smile enrobing you. 

[joonie-beanie]

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 16

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15]

Pairing: Namjoon/Rap Monster x Reader Rating: M Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 4,618

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: Here’s another chapter for you all~ I tried to actually write one in a timely manner this time :p Ahhh...only 4 chapters left. Let’s see how long it takes lmao.

Anyway, enjoy!

Jimin watches from his car as Yoongi rounds the corner and pulls into a parking spot near the edge of the park. A few seconds after parking, Yoongi exits his vehicle—and Jimin can tell that he hasn’t taken his gun.

“Idiot,” he mumbles, his heart aching for a second, yet when Jimin pops open the driver’s door and steps out he also leaves his gun on his passenger seat. Jimin has no intention of hurting Yoongi. Despite how their relationship has changed, there are very few people Jimin would prefer to protect instead of hurt, and Yoongi is one of those people.

Following after Yoongi up the worn down trail, Jimin shoves his hands into his pockets, worry pricking at the back of his mind. He knows that Yoongi is more than likely pissed at him. Yoongi and Namjoon are basically brothers, despite what Yoongi might say, and for Jimin to have been hired to capture Namjoon’s girlfriend of all people…

Even if Yoongi and Jimin had been in love, there’s no easy way to atone for hurting someone who is Yoongi’s only family—and Jimin knows that.

So, for once he’s a little scared. He doesn’t know why Yoongi has called him out here. Maybe it’s a trap and he’s being foolish by agreeing to meet up so easily. Maybe Namjoon is waiting in the bushes ready to stab Jimin in the throat. Jimin doubts it, but…just maybe.

Falling back a little, stepping off the path to rest against a tree, Jimin watches as Yoongi slips into their little grove—the grove they’d always meet at like two teenagers running off to their secret hiding spot in the middle of the night.

Jimin laughs to himself quietly. Yoongi had always hated him making comparisons like that—but Jimin always loved to tease him. It was fun to see Yoongi flustered and smiling. He always blushed and grumbled at the mention of “love”, and never really said it aloud, but Jimin never pushed it.

Their…relationship had been unconventional to say the least. A man for hire and the second in command of a mafia group. Their meeting had been a coincidence at best—two men tiredly saddling up at a bar next to each other—exhausted from the day and needing something to wash the feelings back down.

Alcohol had caused them to…well, Jimin had ended up half naked on Yoongi’s coffee table before the elder had paused at the freshly healed wound on Jimin’s shoulder. A product of someone who had managed a swing at him while he’d been doing his job.

Yoongi had pressed him about his scar, and Jimin had noticed the way he’d tensed—worry and suspicion lingering in his gaze. Yet, the alcohol in Jimin’s system had caused Jimin to wave him off—arms snaking around Yoongi’s neck with the simple excuse of “sometimes I get hurt because of work”.

It hadn’t been until the next time they’d met—Jimin calling Yoongi up asking if he wanted company—that here—in this park, on the bench in this grove—the two had figured out each other’s occupations. Immediately Jimin had pinned Yoongi to the ground, fearful that Yoongi might take him out. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but he wasn’t an ally either. But…in the end they’d released each other, brushed themselves off, and made a promise. They wouldn’t tell on each other—no one would know about what they had going on besides themselves.

Of course…as things had gotten more serious, Namjoon had noticed a change in Yoongi, and had found out. He hadn’t been happy, but had sucked it up for Yoongi’s sake, since the elder had actually seemed…happy, for once. Yet, even as their relationship had been accepted, they had managed to grow apart. Yoongi had objectives to carry out that required him to be gone for weeks at a time, and Jimin couldn’t just neglect his job and obligations either. Work started to get in the way, and after a time the two had…mutually parted.

Until the day you showed up and ended up causing them to cross paths once again—and in the worst way possible.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jimin says as he stares down at Yoongi sadly, his guard dropped, and heart sullen. Yoongi’s fingers squeeze his waist gently in affirmation, his cheek leaning into Jimin’s palm, and the younger manages a small smile.

“I didn’t think I would end up…I mean…”

“You thought that you’d be able to get in and out without encountering me,” Yoongi surmises for him, laughing bitterly. His eyes open and he meets Jimin’s puppy dog like stare, but Yoongi only continues frowning with brewing anger.

“I saw the look on your face, Minnie, you panicked at the sight of me and almost got us both killed—”

“I mean you didn’t have to chase after me like that—“

“And what? Let you take one of the most precious people in Namjoon’s life?” Yoongi scoffs. Jimin sighs, removing his hand from Yoongi’s cheek and running it through his hair instead.

“You never get attached—I thought you’d just leave it be,” he grumbles, and Yoongi’s frown deepens.

“Hey,” he says in a low tone, his fingers sinking lower on Jimin’s waist, and Jimin peeks at him. Immediately Yoongi is leaning up, nose just inches away from Jimin’s—so close that he can see the younger debating whether to lean into Yoongi or scramble off his lap and run away.

“It’s not a matter of me getting attached—though you and I both know from experience that I have things that are precious to me. It’s a matter of Namjoon’s happiness, and Y/N’s safety. At one point I had you but now Namjoon has her, Minnie, and I know you get what I mean by that.”

“I do—that’s why I feel terrible, hyung,” Jimin sighs again, rolling his head back to glance at the passing clouds, illuminated by the moon. “But Taehyung recommended me to Jeon and if I refused I was sure both Taehyung and he would be suspicious and wondering if I had allegiances—since everyone knows I’m for hire, so…I had to do it.”

“You never have to do anything, Jimin—,” Yoongi begins, and hushes Jimin when he opens his mouth to argue differently. “Though I know you have to make a living, and have to do certain things to stay safe, so I…I can’t be completely pissed at you, but…come to our side, Minnie. Help us,” Yoongi whispers, fingers squeezing Jimin’s waist to express his plea further. Immediately Jimin sighs, his hands moving to grip Yoongi’s, and when he tries to pull the elder’s hands away from him, Yoongi only holds him tighter.

“I know you and you know this is the right thing to do. Please, Jimin.”

“I…what about Taehyung? You know he’s the only one who has had my back for this long, hyung,” Jimin speaks quietly, face still angling towards the sky, unable to meet Yoongi’s begging stare. “Of course I don’t like taking someone innocent like Y/N, and of course I don’t want her to get hurt in the end, but…”

“For what reason is Taehyung even helping Jeon and Jaehyuk?” Yoongi questions, brows furrowing. “Is he just—what?—bored?”

“I…from what he told me Jeon approached him about making a deal, and since Taehyungie didn’t have anything exciting going on at the time, he agreed,” Jimin sighs. “Considering the deal included Y/N into the equation…that perked his interest too. You know, after that time he encountered her at the club.”

Jimin pauses considerately, his lips turning into a frown. “…Taehyungie isn’t good at reading into people’s true feelings, so he probably doesn’t realize how serious Namjoon hyung is about Y/N. He likely doesn’t think that in the end Namjoon will truly be devastated if something happens…”

“So he’s doing it because he’s bored,” Yoongi repeats, humming a little. “What say we explain to Taehyung how serious this all is, and convince him to join our side too? Throw in a little extra reassurance to him that as long as he cooperates with us Namjoon won’t murder him in cold blood.”

Jimin winces at that, and Yoongi shrugs uncaringly.

“He sexually assaulted and drugged Y/N, and is now plotting with her kidnappers. Namjoon has the right to be furious. Just be glad that he let me come talk to you…because when I told him it was you that took Y/N…”

“He probably wanted to throw me out the window of his penthouse, I know,” Jimin grumbles, hands moving to run down his face as he releases a giant sigh. Yoongi knows that this likely isn’t an easy decision for him—even if in Yoongi’s mind joining forces is clearly the right option.

“All I know…,” Jimin begins slowly, eyes finally moving to meet Yoongi’s, “is that Y/N is Namjoon’s bait to attend the ball, and that their plan is to get Namjoon out of the picture.”

Dead, Yoongi surmises, scowling. No way in hell is that happening.

“Jaehyuk will be attending with Y/N as his guest. My guess is that he’ll still be playing the ‘she’s my daughter’ card. Obviously Jeon will be there, considering he’s the one hosting the ball. Taehyung will be there too, to keep an eye out. From what Taehyungie has told me, it’s just the three of them. Jaehyuk will try to keep his head low the entire time, considering he’s rumored to be dead anyway. Jeon will draw attention, and is hoping Namjoon will go after him—that way Taehyung can silently take the shot, and by the time anyone realizes anything, Taehyung will be gone, the weapon will be disposed of, and panic will have displaced the blame away from Jeon.”

“And they just think that this is all going to happen smoothly?”

“Apparently,” Jimin shrugs, and Yoongi breathes a laugh. For a few seconds silence falls between them, and then Yoongi is drawing the younger’s attention once again, his fingers lightly tucking a few strands of hair behind Jimin’s ear.

“Will you help us?”

Jimin huffs a little. “Had I not planned to in the first place I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you, and I certainly wouldn’t have entered here without my gun.”

“I know,” Yoongi smiles, his gums flashing, and Jimin’s heart thrums loudly against his chest. “But I prefer you giving your word. Now c’mon—,” still gripping Jimin’s waist, Yoongi lightly urges the younger to stand, and Jimin blinks in surprise but does. Once he’s on his feet, Yoongi stands as well, wincing a little as his legs ache.

“I haven’t had anyone sit on my lap like that in a while. Jeez, Minnie…”

Jimin rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to retort, but before he can Yoongi is grabbing his hand—tugging him out of the grove and back towards the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Jimin asks, a little worried, and Yoongi’s face remains innocent.

“To Namjoon’s apartment. We’re finishing up our plans.”

“I—what—no, hyung,” Jimin immediately responds, attempting to struggle out of Yoongi’s grasp, but the elder isn’t budging. Not until they reach the edge of the parking lot does Yoongi loosen his grip on Jimin, turning to face the younger, who has now gone on the defensive, clearly terrified of seeing the man who he had inadvertently betrayed.

“Park Jimin, I promise you,” Yoongi says, hands lifting to briefly cup Jimin’s soft cheeks, “it will be alright. Now let’s go.”

And with that, Yoongi turns and heads towards his car. Jimin stares after him, skin feeling warm, yet his chest clenching in pain, and after a few seconds he reluctantly returns to his own vehicle.

Following Yoongi’s instructions, Jimin drives across town until he’s back in a familiar parking garage, Yoongi waiting by the elevator to escort him upstairs. Memories flood Jimin’s mind as the elevator doors close—images of you struggling in his grasp, desperate to get away—and guilt eats at him. With each passing floor anxiety floods into Jimin, and by the time they reach the top floor Jimin nearly forgets how to breathe.

“Jimin,” Yoongi calls when Jimin is slow to follow—the elder already walking up to Namjoon’s door, and, swallowing roughly, Jimin steps out of the elevator. Once beside Yoongi, the second in command punches in the code to the door and steps inside when it opens. Keeping his head down, Jimin follows him inside, jolting in surprise when Namjoon’s voice echoes throughout the apartment.

“Yoongi? What happened? Did you go and talk to—,” and at that moment Namjoon rounds the corner, spotting both Yoongi and Jimin on his landing, and his jaw snaps shut. Jimin meets his eyes for a fraction of a second before his stare turns to the ground, fingers itching at his sides.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi responds with a quiet sigh, “Jimin—”

Before Yoongi can say anything more, Jimin swiftly bends into a 90 degree bow, his bangs hanging towards the floor and his fists clenched at his sides.

“I was wrong,” is what Jimin manages to say, his voice quiet, yet Namjoon can hear the sincerity in his tone.

For a moment, the apartment hangs in tense silence, Yoongi looking questioningly between his friend and his previous lover, and then finally socked footfalls start across the floor in Jimin’s direction. The younger immediately steels, expecting nothing less than a knee to the stomach or a fist to the head, but all he receives is a hand lightly patting his hair.

Shocked, eyes widening, Jimin looks up, finally catching sight of Namjoon’s tired and slightly forced smile, but there’s also a genuineness to it as well.

“You were wrong,” he says. “And I’m still furious. But if you’re helping us to get Y/N back than this will be the beginning of your path to my forgiveness. No matter what I need her alive at the end of all this.”

“I…thank you, Namjoon hyung,” Jimin says, straightening his spine, and Namjoon flashes him one more bittersweet smile before his lips drop back into a flat line, brows furrowing on his forehead—and he returns to his dining room table where blueprints and notes of the Jeon ballroom are laid out.

In your dark, lonely room, you can barely sense how much time has passed. The only thing that gives you any remote idea of the passing days are the meals you’re brought—breakfast in the morning and dinner at night. The same maid always delivers the food, smiling at you, a little nervous, and her retreat is fairly swift.

The food is the only thing that helps you take your mind off of Namjoon, Hoseok, and your impending death or rescue. You pray for rescue, but with each passing second it becomes harder to imagine that you’ll come out of this situation entirely unscathed. Hell, Jaehyuk had injured your arm—it’s already past the point of exiting unscathed. But…

I want to get out of this alive.

That’s your immediate forethought, and the repetition of those words in your mind nearly makes you break into tears. At least half a dozen times throughout your period of capture the prospect of you potentially losing your life and not being saved had caused you to panic—breath picking up and tears pricking at your eyes. It’d been hard to calm yourself down, but in this situation you would have felt too vulnerable if you had spiraled into a panic attack, so you’d manage to pull yourself together. At least for a while.

The only thing that had been different in your routine was the day Jaehyuk had taken you to fetch his daughter’s money. The day you’d miraculously encountered Hoseok, and had regained a sliver of hope that you would surely be saved. However, it seems like today will be different too.

Only an hour after your breakfast had been delivered, the door knob to your room turns, and you freeze up when Jaehyuk steps inside. The man immediately regards you with distaste, his eyes scanning your form up and down, and he clicks his tongue.

“Stand up.”

“Why?” you question, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, and Jaehyuk’s gaze narrows, his tone darkening.

“Since when are you in the position to be asking questions instead of following orders?”

Before you can even think to give a half-assed apology or stand up to follow his command, Jaehyuk is in your personal space. He grips your arm and yanks you from the bed, taking notice of the way you wince, and when he looks down he notices that he’s grabbed your arm which is still healing. However, that only causes him to grin, his thumb moving to press against the unbandaged scab, and you hiss as he digs the pad of his thumb into your skin even harder.

“That’s better,” he comments, and then nonchalantly continues to speak as if he isn’t causing you physical pain yet again.

“Today we’re going to a ball. You’re going as my guest. Play your part, or there will be consequences—though I’m sure you know this by now.”

Releasing you, throwing your arm back towards you and causing you to stumble a little, Jaehyuk scoffs. You hold in a scowl, knowing that he probably thinks you’re pathetic. But you’re injured and tired—it’s getting harder to keep holding your ground.

“The bathroom is yours once again. Wash up. A maid will meet you to get you fitted in a dress for tonight. Do not keep me waiting.”

With that, Jaehyuk exits the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. You frown once he’s gone, his presence always leaving your mouth filled with distaste. And yet, you find yourself internal grateful for the shower, feet padding quietly down the hallways as you traverse your way back to the bathroom. Once inside, you close the door behind you and strip down, turning the knob for the shower. As the cold water warms, you once again take in your appearance in the mirror, frowning at yourself. Your arm looks much better than before, and while you’re still quite scared of what might come of you, the sliver of hope you’d gained from seeing Hoseok at the bank had caused a little life to come back to your face.

I’ll be ok, you think, sucking in a deep breath, and you straighten your shoulders. Hanging onto that determination, you step into the shower, prepared to face whatever will await you.

Towards the end of your time in the bathroom, just as you finish brushing out your hair, the door clicks open, and, in shock, you scramble for the towel you’d discarded—terrified that Jaehyuk might walk in and see you in this state. You can only imagine what he’d do if he trapped you in the bathroom while you were naked and at his mercy…

Thankfully, however, the face that peeks through the crack in the door is the face of the maid you know well. Her eyes immediately show remorse for having startled you, noting how tightly you’re holding your towel around your body.

“I apologize. Jaehyuk-sshi asked me to take you to the late misses’ room to get fitted in a dress.”

“I…um…alright,” you respond, your heart still hammering against your ribs, and she flashes you a sorry smile.

“There’s currently no one in the hallway, if you hurry, we can…,” she trails off, not intending to say more than needs to be said, and you nod. Hurrying behind her, the maid quickly leads you to the room Jaehyuk’s daughter used to reside in, and as she shuts the door you take in the luxuriousness of the bedroom.

You remember Namjoon saying something before about her being spoiled, but…the entire room is screams princess. Pink walls, bejeweled bedding, and a closet that spans the entire length of the wall.

“Has nothing been touched?” you can’t help but ask, and the maid nods sullenly, her mouth turning into a frown.

“Jaehyuk-sshi took her jewels to pawn off for money, but left everything else…”

“Ah…,” you respond, frowning as well. What a terrible father, and person in general. You wish he would’ve died when Namjoon’s men had attempted to kill him…

“You can choose any of her dresses,” the maid continues, moving to the closet to show you the row of dresses Jaehyuk’s daughter had possessed. “He…doesn’t quite care what you wear…um…”

You stare at her when she hesitates to continue, noticing the way her eyes drop to the floor.

“Did he say what you just told me, but in worse terms?”

She nods.

“I certainly won’t force you to repeat him then,” you scoff, approaching her, and the maid nods once again, her gaze reflecting relief. You’re sure she’s had a rough time working under someone as unkind as Jaehyuk…

Stepping up to the closet, you survey the dresses inside, noting how a majority of the garments are fairly revealing. However, since you know at the end of the day you’ll be required to wear one, you begin pushing through them. The maid helps you, making quiet suggestions about what would look best.

Sometime later, you find yourself standing in the center of the room, a white, floor length dress adorning your form as the maid adjusts the dress ever so slightly to correct any issues with the fit. The gown, for the most part, covers your body. It’s conservative and simple, save the open back, which reveals a moderate portion of your skin, but considering it’s one of the safest choices in the closet, you’ll have to live with it.

“I’m glad it fits so well,” the maid says quietly as she stands back and surveys her work. You turn to look in the mirror, nodding appreciatively. Despite your current situation, you surprisingly feel pretty.

Leading you to the vanity, the maid then instructs you to sit down. You close your eyes, mentally resting as she messes with your hair and applies a small amount of makeup to your face. Well, maybe you do more than mentally rest, because by the time you open your eyes she has pulled your hair back into a braided bun that sits perfectly on the back of your head. However, before you can think to thank her—the maid smiling happily at her own work—there’s an angry yell from up the hall.

“Hyemi! Where is she?!”

“We just finished right now, sir!” the maid, Hyemi, frantically responds, her previously happy demeanor shattering instantly. Bustling you out of the chair, she quickly grabs a pair of white heels from the closet and kneels on the ground, sending you a worried glance. Unsure what to do or say, you simply lift your leg and allow her to place the heels onto your feet. Immediately you can tell that the shoes are at least a half size too small, but you know you don’t have a choice.

Once that’s taken care of, Hyemi grants you one last one-over before pulling you towards the bedroom door. She then drags you down the hall until you’re left at the top of the staircase.

“Good luck,” she whispers, bowing her head to you, and hurries away.

You stare after her, taking a deep breath as you turn to begin down the stairs. Your chest already feels tight with nervousness, but you attempt to ignore it, moving to pull up the bottom of your gown as your heels click down the stairs.

Clearly hearing your arrival, Jaehyuk steps out from his parlor, hands shoved into his pockets. He’s wearing a tuxedo, but he looks nearly the same as normal. Pudgy, mean—and now—slightly shorter than you, you realize as he steps up to stand next to you.

“Not shabby,” he comments, his eyes blatantly scanning your figure. You decide not to comment.

However, when Jaehyuk reaches behind you to lead you towards the door, his sweaty hand brushing against the bare skin of your back, you accidentally flinch away in surprise.

Your action only causes Jaehyuk to snarl, and he makes a point of sliding his hand beneath the dress to grip your naked waist. Fingers pressing roughly into your flesh, he tugs you towards the front door, and you are forced to bite your tongue. You don’t want to find out what will happen if you do or say anything else that’s not to his liking.

So, allowing yourself to be shoved along, you soon find yourself once again in the back seat of Jaehyuk’s car. Thankfully, this time Jaehyuk slides in beside you instead of the two guards who had caged you in last time.

“Behave yourself,” he growls, and then signals to the driver. Almost immediately you’re pulling away from his house, heading back towards the main area of the city. As you go, you find yourself staring out the tinted car window, mind lost in thought yet again.

You wonder about Namjoon—if he’s looking, if he’s worried. Hoseok—had he managed to get ahold of Namjoon and tell him he’d seen you? And Jungkook—had he been worried, or had he noticed that you were gone? Certainly he should’ve figured out something was going on by now, right? He’d nearly broken into jail to save you after 6 hours of not hearing from you, but at this point it had been days without seeing him, without going to class or communicating in any way. Surely Jungkook must’ve realized too, right?

However…soon a familiar building rolls into sight, the car slowing to a stop at the main entrance of the building, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Lips parting, dread gnawing at you from every angle, you gape at the skyscraper before you.

Even as the chauffer opens your door and Jaehyuk impatiently waits for you to get out, you find yourself stunned, and unable to move.

Why are you here? Of all places? Wha…how did this make any sense?

“Get out,” Jaehyuk hisses, grabbing your arm, and you stumble to your feet.

Forcing your arm through his, Jaehyuk leads you into the building that belongs to none other than Jeon Enterprises, a dark smile tugging at his lips when he picks up on your confusion and fear.

“Have you realized what’s going on yet?”

Blinking, you immediately look over to him, lips pressing into a frown. Jaehyuk only grins wider.

“A dead man, a CEO, and a joker all make a pact to get rid of the little monster crawling in the shadows,” he teases, his hand moving to possessively grip your waist, and his words echo through your mind.

Jaehyuk is obviously the dead man, and…you’re a little suspicious of who the joker may be, but…A CEO?

No…, you think, eyes darting around the hotel lobby, knees nearly buckling as the realization befalls you. There’s no way…Jungkook’s dad…

“Jeon?” you whisper, disbelieving, and when Jaehyuk laughs happily your suspicions are confirmed.

But…but Namjoon had been Jeon’s partner! You’d seen the two of them together the first night you’d become Jungkook’s tutor! What had happened?? Why had they…and what about Jungkook?? Had he known? Had your entire friendship been a lie??

Suddenly Jaehyuk stops, fingers moving to grip your chin tightly, and when he forces you to stare at him his eyes only reflect glee.

“And you know what’s going to happen to that little monster? Tonight, at this ball, he dies.”

Eyes darkening, Jaehyuk’s demeanor morphs into something much more evil, and your find yourself unable to breathe at his next words.

“Tonight, Kim Namjoon dies.”

[Pt 15] | [Pt 17]