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wildestdreamsblog · 12 days ago

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MY LOVE THANK U FOR UR KIND WORDS AND FOR REBLOGGING! 💖

Elysian: a Latibule Spinoff

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Seokjin has been a menace lately and not the baby gurl we know him to be. I love it

Masterlist, Part XI of __

“Who did this to you?”

You looked at him and stubbornly pulled your wrist away. You knew that considering how hard his jaw was clenched that he let you, otherwise you would still be imprisoned in his hand.

You stepped to go around him, yet he emotionlessly stepped to completely block your path. His position only further solidified your earlier thought that he was an immovable force should he deemed it necessary. You sighed to muster all the strength that was left of you before looking up to meet his eyes that were looking for answers.

“I-I fell,” you started before your courage could dwindle. Even in the small courage you had, your voice trembled. “Look. I am exhausted. I just want to sleep this off. I need to work later so can you please just let me be?”

He was looking at you and yet, despite the closeness, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The Seokjin you knew was widely expressive. Animated, even. Anyone could tell what he was feeling at any given moment but not now.

But right now?

Right now, he was unreadable.

His jaw ticked once, just the barest movement, but his eyes remained strangely still before he stepped aside to let you pass. He watched you as you tried to insert the key. With your trembling hands, however, it was close to impossible. They rattled against the lock, over and over again, until finally—

Seokjin gently took the keys from your hand and opened the door himself. His hand was on the door knob as he pushed it in. If you thought that there was a chance that he would let this go, the scene behind the door was enough to solidify his initial thought that this was no accident. Any hope you had that he might let it go—that maybe, just maybe, he’d believe the lie and leave—shattered in an instant.

This was planned.

Your pain was intentional.

The answer was found in the mess that you weren’t able to hide when you hastened to the hospital because despite the exhaustion you felt, you still clung to what was left of your life. You hadn’t meant to leave it like this. It was a scene of chaos. A chair knocked over. A cracked lamp. Glass scattered on the floor like breadcrumbs leading straight to the truth.

The sound of his breath hitching was unmistakable, sharp enough to make you flinched.

You feared more questions from him. You feared that he would keep asking questions you didn’t want to answer. However, to your surprised, he merely let himself in your small apartment, shoulders tense, gaze unreadable. The door clicked shut behind him, and his movements turned purposeful—swift, efficient. He walked past you like a force of nature, heading straight for your bedroom.

“W–what are you doing?!” you stammered, your voice cracking under the weight of confusion and panic as you followed him down the hall.

He was already grabbing your bag from the chair, throwing in a change of clothes, your charger, your medication from the nightstand. Every movement was filled with quiet fury and absolute clarity.

“You’re not staying here,” he said, not even glancing back at you.

You stood frozen at the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “Seokjin, wait—what? You can’t just—this is my place—”

He finally turned to you, eyes dark and steady, voice low but unyielding. “And it’s not safe.”

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in around you as you struggled to breathe. “You don’t understand—”

“No,” he said flatly, cutting you off. “You don’t understand. Someone hurt you, and they didn’t just stop there. They came here. And you were going to sleep next to that like nothing happened?”

“It’s none of your business!” you shouted because if anyone was going to be hurt, you’d rather it be you and not him. You couldn’t let yourself drag someone as pure as him down in hell with you. Honestly, you would rather they break your bones than let anyone hurt this person.

He stepped past you again as though he didn’t hear your refusal, brushing your shoulder lightly. “You can yell at me later. But right now, you're leaving with me.”

Kim Seokjin was steady, you noted. He was someone who did things his way. You noticed now that he was someone who didn’t take no for an answer as evidenced by how you were seated in his comfortable sofa which, you were certain, was more than a month’s worth of your rent. A soft blanket was wrapped around your shoulders. A cup of tea was on the table. And Seokjin was crouched in front of you, your injured wrist gently cradled in his hands as he inspected it. He was quietly asking you about the medical procedures done and about your prescription.

You looked away, uncomfortable beneath his concern. “As you can see, I’m okay,” you muttered, pulling your wrist back—not forcefully, just enough to make a point. “Can I please leave now? I have work tomorrow.”

“I’ll call your department head,” he said without missing a beat. “You need rest.”

“Seokjin!” you snapped, exasperated. “You can’t just—this isn’t your decision!”

He sat back on his heels, unfazed. “Then whose is it? The person who hurt you? Your boss? Because right now, you’re acting like your own well-being is the last thing that matters.”

You stood up, harshly pushing him away from you. “This is so unprofessional. You have no right to-”

He didn’t get up. He didn’t argue. Just looked up at you from the floor, his expression quiet and unraveling. The usual sharpness in his eyes dulled into something tender, something aching.

“Then please,” he murmured, voice barely holding itself together. “Give me the right, Sunshine. I… I just can’t lose you. I can’t let anyone hurt you. Not when I—”

You sighed, your heart aching at the defeated position he was in. If he was like this with just a mere sprain, what more if he witnessed the dozens of times that you were badly hurt and forced to pretend that it was all normal?

“Fine,” you said at last, voice flat but shaky. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

His shoulders barely moved, but you saw the way the breath escaped him—slow, steady, almost like he was afraid to believe it.

“And I’ll resign tomorrow.”

---

“You called?”

Seokjin took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes trained on the twinkling lights of the skyline. He was quiet for a long time, and to anyone who knew him, they should have known that it was dangerous. A quiet Jin was the Mafia Prince. Cold. Sharp. Calculating. The version of him that no one walked away from untouched.

You were sleeping in one of his guestrooms. Soundly, he had hoped. But after what you went through, he knew you were just waiting for the sun to shine to leave him. However, he did have bad news for you come morning. He would keep you safe, whether you wanted to or not.

“I need you to look into her.”

“Noona?” Jungkook questioned, his voice in disbelief. He offered to conduct a background check on you, even on things that were unrecorded. Seokjin vehemently refused then. He didn’t need to know, he surmised. He didn’t want to dig. No. He could just get to know you like normal people did. “Yes,” he said now, voice firm, leaving no room for question. “My sunshine.”

There was a pause on the other end. A long one.

Jungkook’s voice, when it came, was slower, more careful. “Your?”

“Mine,” Seokjin said simply. No hesitation. No pretense.

Another beat of silence. Jungkook never was good with words when emotions started crawling beneath them. “What made you change your mind?”

Seokjin turned his head slightly, watching the lights of the city bleed across the window. His reflection stared back at him—calm, composed, dangerous.

“Someone dared hurt her,” he said. Each word dropped like a blade.

There was no response. Only quiet. Calculating.

“And then what will happen if you know who they are?” Jungkook finally asked.

Seokjin’s grip on the glass tightened, but his voice remained quiet. Unshaken. “Then they’ll just have to meet me.”

Sleep evaded you.

The conversation you had with him despite it being unfinished was enough to keep you up all night. You never wanted anyone to know about your situation. It was embarrassing enough for you without seeing the pity in their eyes. Kim Seokjin, with his pristine life, his spotless career, his name spoken with reverence in every hospital wing. He shouldn’t even breathe in the same direction as you, much less look at you like he cared. He didn’t have any scars you could see. No blemishes, no bruises tucked under sleeves. Just brilliance and success and the kind of gentleness life had never taught you how to trust.

With that in mind, you went out of the impossibly comfortable room, ready to tell him that you were leaving. You padded quietly through the hallway, rehearsing the words in your head: Thank you, but I’m going. You’ve done more than enough. Except that what greeted you was him in the kitchen, humming to himself as he cooked. Never even in your wildest dreams that you would see the great doctor Kim Seokjin wearing a pink apron while cooking. The dining table was already filled with several dishes and there was even a flower in the middle of the table.

Was this truly the person who not more than a month ago ran away from you like you were a dementor? S Was this really the person who couldn’t stand to be an inch closer to you as though proximity to you would short-circuit his genius brain.

He turned at the soft shuffle of your feet, his expression shifting instantly from concentration to gentle surprise. “Oh,” he said, eyes warm, “good you’re awake. Let’s eat?”

He smiled at you as he placed down the steaming soup on the table before walking to where you were. He ruffled your hair gently before guiding you to your seat. “How are you so adorable in the morning, Sunshine?”

You stared, momentarily speechless. You watched him as he rounded the table again, now checking the rice cooker with practiced ease.

“Coffee?” he offered without looking up.

“Yes, please,” you answered automatically, the words leaving you before you could stop them. It almost felt like a script. Domestic. Familiar. Dangerous.

You didn’t expect him to be this…light. You were sure that the way you pushed him away last night would result to him being cold.

But no.

“Hmm. Later,” he said easily, reaching for a pair of tongs. “I have a wonderful coffee machine here—imported from the States, state-of-the-art. It even talks. I talk to it when I’m lonely. But anyway, let’s eat first. Coffee on an empty stomach is just terrible. A recipe for gastritis.”

You raised a brow at him. “I’ve seen you drink coffee at four in the morning. There’s no way you’ve already eaten by then.”

Without missing a beat, he looked over his shoulder, grinning like a sinner with a saint’s smile. “Do what I say, not what I do. Not everyone is blessed with this body.”

You snorted despite yourself, the sound slipping out before you could smother it. “Seokjin—”

He turned toward you then, setting down another plate, expression playful but soft around the edges. “Yes, my sunshine?”

You hesitated.

Seokjin finally sat in front of you, still wearing that ridiculous pink apron like it was haute couture. He didn’t waste time with small talk. Instead, he began spooning food onto your plate with care like it was second nature, like it wasn’t the most intimate thing someone had done for you in a while.

“Don’t worry,” he said casually, scooping soup into a bowl and pushing it gently toward you. “There’s no shrimp here, so you won’t suffer a reaction.”

Your chopsticks paused mid-air. “How did you know I’m allergic to that?”

He looked up, deadpan, arching a single brow like you’d just asked why the sky was blue. “Medical records, Sunshine.”

You gaped. “That’s invasion of privacy.”

He waved his chopsticks dismissively, not the least bit remorseful. “Privacy is overrated, don’t you think?”

You blinked at him.

“And eat,” he added, pushing a side dish closer to you. “How are you losing weight every week? That’s bad! Terrible. I’ll have to report this to myself.”

You stared. “You’ll report me… to yourself?”

He nodded solemnly. “As your attending physician, your caretaker, and soon, the president of your fan club, I must insist that this trend stops immediately.”

Despite yourself, a laugh broke free.

And across from you, Seokjin’s eyes crinkled in that familiar way that made the world feel just a little less heavy.

“I’m adorable, aren’t I?”

Your voice carried down the hall, half-indignant, half-defeated as you stood just outside the doorway to his home office. You were holding a thick stack of academic pages like they were contraband—because in a way, they were.

Seokjin barely looked up from his desk, blinking at you with wide, faux-innocent eyes. He tilted his head toward the finished pile next to you with the ghost of a smirk. “But you already read those.”

You scowled. “That’s not the point.”

The workaholic medical director—the man who’d once been impossible to find outside a white coat—had chosen not to go in today. Instead, he was at home, “working remotely.” His laptop was open, emails unread, a virtual meeting muted in the background. But it was clear where his real attention was: you.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, and regarded you like you were a very amusing experiment. “I’m not keeping you here, Sunshine.”

“You literally bribed me with academic bait—”

“—But did you know,” he interrupted smoothly, “that I also have a copy of the last paper the famous Dr. Lee wrote before he died?”

You narrowed your eyes.

His expression turned downright devilish. “It’s just… so astonishing. Groundbreaking, even. Never made it to publication.”

You stared at him.

He clasped his hands together, as if in prayer. “Don’t you want to read it?”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Damn it, you thought.

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch outside his office as he slid the next paper onto the coffee table like a dealer feeding a dangerous addiction.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered into a cushion.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied sweetly. “Held hostage by footnotes and theoretical frameworks.”

He winked.

And you hated—hated—how much you liked it.

God, was it not enough that you made him handsome? Was it really necessary that you also made him so brilliant?

As if the chiseled jawline and those unfairly symmetrical features weren’t already enough to ruin your day, he also had the audacity to have an IQ high enough to solve equations you wouldn’t even attempt without crying. And somehow, he had memorized your allergy list and your emotional tells, all while managing to cook a perfect breakfast and casually hold back the weight of your crumbling life without so much as flinching.

Unbelievable.

You glared at the paper he had just given you, as though it were the real enemy. “I swear if this is another experimental case study on trauma bonding, I’m walking out.”

“It’s not,” he said cheerfully from his desk, not even glancing up. “It’s on attachment theory and the neuroscience of trust.”

You made a strangled sound.

He looked over, lips twitching. “See? I knew you’d love it.”

And you hated—loathed—how right he was.

---

“Seokjin.” Your voice was strained with disbelief, hands planted on your hips. “It is nine in the evening. Trains will stop running soon. Can you, for the love of God, give me the keys?”

Across the living room, Seokjin didn’t even blink. Still lounging on the couch like he had all the time in the world, he tilted his head with mock confusion. “What keys?”

“You know,” you bit out, slowly and clearly, “my apartment keys.”

He glanced around dramatically, as though searching the air for invisible evidence. Then he pointed to himself with the audacity of a man too handsome to ever be held accountable. “Why would I have that, Sunshine?”

“Because you took it. Just an hour ago. From the coffee table. I watched you do it.”

“I have no recollection,” he said, blinking up at you with exaggerated innocence that would’ve been more convincing if it weren’t for the very obvious shape of your keychain poking out of the front pocket of his sweats.

You narrowed your eyes.

Then slowly, deliberately, you dropped your gaze to the set of keys sticking out like a guilty confession.

And pointed. “So you’re saying those aren’t my keys?”

Seokjin followed your line of sight, then gave the smallest glance down at his pocket.

A beat of silence.

Then, he shrugged. “Hmm. Could be mine. Hard to say. All keys look alike in this economy.”

“Seokjin.”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

You marched over and yanked the keys from his pocket in one swift move.

“Ah!” he yelped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Robbery! How dare you violate my personal space!”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, already heading for the door. Yet when you opened it, Jeon Jungkook was standing outside, his doe eyes blinking innocently at you.

He was wearing an oversized sweater which was as dark as his pants. He had a bucket hat on and he was grinning at you. He stood at the doorstep like a child who had just won a prize, arms full with two greasy bags of chicken and a six-pack of beer tucked under one arm. “Noona! I bought chicken! And beer! It’s my birthday!”

“Really?” you asked in a deadpanned voice, remembering the time he claimed it was his birthday when it wasn’t.

His eyes darted. “Yes?”

Before you could respond, a voice shouted from somewhere behind him—sharp, irritated, and unmistakably Seokjin’s.

“Yah! Jungkook, she cannot drink beer. She’s taking her meds, you idiot!”

Jungkook sipped his beer as he looked at his hyung who was tenderly brushing your hair away from your face.

You were curled up peacefully, your head pillowed on Seokjin’s thighs, one hand loosely clutching the hem of his sweater.

He had never looked at anyone as softly as he did you. They all thought the Mafia Prince didn’t have it in him to be tender to anyone and if anyone told him that his hyung had eyes on someone, he would tell them to get their head checked.

Until he saw how he looked at you.

In fact, Jungkook knew the depth of his hyung’s feelings before Seokjin could even figure it out himself. For heaven’s sake, he bought a house one night when he was drunk. It was comical, really, when Jungkook was drinking with his hyung and come morning, Seokjin acted like it was not because of you.

“So that wasn’t you who got drunk last night when she didn’t reply and decided to go ahead and buy a house in the countryside where, and I quote, ‘you and her can build a family with three adorable kids and grow old there’?”

Seokjin didn’t even flinch. He blinked slowly, adjusted his watch like this was just another Thursday morning meeting, then asked, dead serious—

“Did the house at least have a big kitchen?”

Jungkook nearly choked. “That’s not the point!” he barked, throwing his hands in the air.

But Seokjin was already pulling out his phone. “I just want to make sure the layout’s good, that’s all.”

“You bought a house!”

“I didn’t buy it,” Seokjin corrected smoothly. “I just made an offer.”

“You put down a deposit!”

“That can be refunded,” he said with a shrug. “Probably.”

Jungkook groaned, collapsing into the nearest couch and burying his face in a pillow.

“Noona’s not allowed to drink beer but you can slip in sleeping pills?”

There was a pause. A quiet kind of pause. Then Seokjin answered, his voice softer, more serious.

“You saw her, Kookie. She was ready to leave. It’s dangerous.”

Jungkook let out a breath, slow and resigned, and handed over his tablet. “This is all I found about Noona’s situation.”

Seokjin took the device, his fingers tightening slightly as he began to scroll. “It’s bad, hyung,” Jungkook added, quieter now.

“I figured just as much,” Seokjin replied, though even his calm couldn’t mask the tension slowly building behind his eyes.

The report was damning. A trail of small-time extortions, loan shark traps, forged contracts. At the center of it was a name he knew too well—a lowlife gang he’d crossed paths with years ago. He remembered sparing them because they were insignificant, scavengers trying to survive in a world ruled by wolves. He figured they'd die out on their own.

He realized now what a mistake that was.

His voice was like stone. “How much does her father owe them?”

“Around 100 million won,” Jungkook said.

Seokjin’s eyes darkened further. “Is her father alive?”

“Yes. But… she doesn’t know that.”

A beat.

“Good,” Seokjin said coldly. “Let it remain that way.”

Jungkook looked at him, brows knitting. “What are you going to do next?”

Seokjin finally looked up from the tablet, his face unreadable, the soft façade slowly crumbling into something sharper—something far more dangerous.

“I’ll meet them, of course.”

Jungkook frowned. “As who?”

He smiled. Not the kind that reached his eyes. “As the good citizen, Kim Seokjin.”

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wildestdreamsblog · 13 days ago

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AYEEE AFTER A MONTH HEHE

Thank u so much for the reblog! 🌸🌸🌸