Resurgence | JJK

Resurgence | JJK

Summary: After breaking up with your high school sweetheart and boyfriend of five years, you find yourself in a waking nightmare. And when his best friend alerts him of your possible troubles, your knight in shining armor struggles to find a way to save you.

Pairing: College Student!Jungkook x College Student!Reader (feat. Taehyung, but not romantically)

Genre: Exes to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Multiple POVs

Word Count: 8.6k+

Warnings: Domestic violence, detailed depictions of violence, heartbreak, pain, strangulation, screaming, crying, shoving, broken glass, surgery, brief mentions of burning, blood, broken/protruding bones, broken skin, swearing, drinking, mentions of death/murder, hospitals, brief mention of police, use of legal language, the american court system, speeding, kissing, please let me know if I’m missing any!

Author’s Note: I used to write on here all the time, but this is my first BTS fic. That being said, I’d love some feedback and comments on it. Also, I tried to avoid any descriptions of the reader that allude to race, weight, height, etc. so if you spot any please let me know so I can remove them. I want my fics to be as inclusive as possible. My goal for this story is to come back later and add some detail/scenes, but it all depends on how well it does. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

It isn’t often someone meets the person they want to spend forever with at only sixteen years old, but Jungkook did, and he knew it right away.

You’re walking home from school when you pass by each other, and Jungkook is carrying the chocolate cone he bought from the ice cream truck that parks outside his school. Normally, if there is food anywhere in sight, the zombie apocalypse could begin without him noticing. You, on the other hand, catch his attention and pull it away from the melting goodness. His heart leaps into his throat as he hopes you notice him, too. But much to his chagrin, your eyes lock onto the two large scoops sitting atop his sugar cone instead.

“That looks delicious,” you say.

He’s fairly certain you didn’t mean to say the phrase out loud and therefore responding would only embarrass you, but alas, his brain short circuits when pretty girls walk by, and so he replies.

“You want a lick?”

Your jaw practically unhinges like a snake while his free hand comes up to slap his own forehead. He should’ve hit himself harder. Then maybe he could’ve knocked the stupidity out of himself. But then, like a beacon of light breaking through the mountain of embarrassment he is being buried under, comes the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. A laugh that rings like a bell. To be more specific, the bell he’s been waiting to hear his whole life.

Jungkook removes the appendages blocking his view and sees you partially bent over; a hand covering your stomach as you laugh heartily. As mortified as he is, he can’t stop the smile your laughter creates.

“What?” he says. You allow your laugher to fade before answering,

“That is the most inappropriate thing you could’ve said,” you say. A residual giggle still lingers in your tone.

“Well, I mean,” Jungkook flounders. “What am I supposed to say when someone compliments my ice cream?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but maybe offering a complete stranger a lick isn’t the right answer?”

Jungkook can’t help but agree, and as he nods, a laugh escapes from his own chest. Suddenly, two complete strangers are laughing together while chocolate ice cream slowly drips onto the concrete.

A second ice cream cone later, and the rest is history. The exchanging of names and numbers turns into a first date, which leads to sharing a first kiss, and ends with you moving to the same college town together.

But nothing good lasts forever, and it would be easy to blame fate for the reason he’s sitting alone right now, but the truth is it’s his fault. There wasn’t some changing of the tide or gust of wind that swept you away from him. It was his own ego that led you right into the arms of another man; leaving him utterly heartbroken.

Taehyung doesn’t think much of it when he sees you at the coffee shop around the corner from campus. Neither of you drink coffee and this place has the best hot chocolate, so it only makes sense you’re here.

After grabbing his drink and the one with your name on it, he strolls over to where you’re standing and offers the larger cup to you.

“I hope you’re the only Y/N in here or this is going to get really awkward,” he jokes.

He’s pleased with the way your eyes widen and a smile appears, especially after four months of radio silence. Being the mutual friend caught in a bad breakup is never ideal, but even so, Taehyung missed you.

“Tae,” you sigh. “Hi.” Your hand reaches to take the drink from him; head bowing briefly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just here for some good ‘ole hot chocolate, same as you,” he answers.

“Oh, I actually drink coffee now. This is some sort of latte... Mocha, maybe? I don’t remember,” you laugh, but not the way he remembers. An awkwardness fills the air that causes Taehyung’s face to contort. It’s clear you take note of his reaction, as your mouth closes to stop the laugh at the source.

In the five years Taehyung has known you, there’s never been an awkward moment. You both share a weirdness and admiration for life that others just don’t. Even after the breakup, before you began seeking attention elsewhere, you spoke as though nothing had changed. Which leaves him wondering why you’re suddenly treating him like a stranger from math class.

His answer comes in the form of a looming shadow over your right shoulder.

The man that joins you is nothing like your ex. Jungkook, even with his muscles, piercings, and tattoos, looks like the boy next door. He has an uplifting presence and his smile is downright contagious.

This guy, on the other hand, is the personification of a rain cloud. His expression has Taehyung wondering if he wronged him in a past life because he hasn’t even uttered a word and the man reeks with contempt for him.

“Who’s this, baby?”

Taehyung notes that he’s likely your new boyfriend and not a hired hitman, based on the pet name and overall possessiveness.

“Oh, this is Taehyung,” you point with your free hand. “He went to my high school.”

Ok, that was weird, Taehyung thinks. Why would you refer to him that way? You’ve been thick as thieves since Jungkook introduced you.

Taehyung raises his eyebrow at you, but either you don’t notice or pretend not to.

“Yeah,” Taehyung stretches out the syllable. “She dated my best friend for quite a while.”

A beat.

Uh oh.

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Your presumed boyfriend’s jaw locks, veins noticeably protruding from his neck, and Superman’s laser eyes couldn’t succeed in blowing a hole through Taehyung’s skull better than he is right now. Similarly, your face is screaming ‘shut up or else.’ The behavior from both parties immediately has Taehyung suspicious. All he did was mention Jungkook, not even referencing him by name, and yet your boyfriend looks pissed and you look downright terrified.

Sleuthing, Taehyung analyzes your appearance for the first time. You’re dressed in a black long-sleeve top and light-wash jeans. In fact, he’s seen this exact outfit on you before, but it’s usually worn during your favorite season when the leaves change. So why are you wearing it in the middle of May?

Maybe he’s jumping to conclusions; the guy hasn’t even spoken to him directly yet. But Taehyung made a promise to Jungkook that he’d keep an eye out for you, and right now there are alarms going off.

“Well, uh, it was nice seeing you, Taehyung.” Your reply breaks the silence, but before Taehyung can even respond your guard dog is shoving you out of view.

Even though the uncomfortable exchange is over, Taehyung can’t shake his nerves. Overprotective boyfriends might be a dime a dozen, but something isn’t right. He owes it to his best friend and you to follow up.

The shop’s location is unfortunately on a street corner, so realistically you could’ve gone in any direction, but familiar voices to his left capture his attention. Taehyung catches you both behind the building in an alleyway. So, he ducks around the corner and attempts to make out what you’re saying.

“What the fuck was that, Y/N?”

“I didn’t know I’d run into him,” you defend.

“Yeah well you definitely could’ve shut it down a lot quicker than you did,” he says.

“What am I supposed to say?” Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair. “I can’t exactly tell someone I’ve known for half a decade to fuck off.”

“Why the hell not? Are you keeping him in your pocket for later?” He takes a step closer and snatches your wrist. Even from his position, Taehyung can see how tight he’s gripping you. Deep down he wants to be heroic and tell this guy to fuck off, but fear of making the situation worse keeps him hidden. “Do you wanna fuck him or something?”

“What? Of course I don’t.”

Ouch.

“Whatever. Just know if I ever see that fucker around you again someone will be paying for it.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to hear any more for his suspicions to be confirmed. He watches you leave to ensure you’re safe before heading to his apartment. One question plagues him during his walk: what does he do about this?

There’s a rerun Jungkook stopped caring about three episodes ago playing on the flatscreen. He’s lying sideways on the couch yet refuses to move no matter how uncomfortable. By nature he’s a hardworking perfectionist, but when you left you took his motivation with you. Now, this couch potato routine is all he knows. He doesn’t even budge when Taehyung comes bolting into the apartment.

“Kook, we gotta talk,” Taehyung says as he throws off his outdoor shoes and slides into his slippers. “I just saw Y/N.”

Jungkook’s interest piques at the sound of your name. Sitting up, he eagerly awaits his roommate’s arrival in the living room. Taehyung places himself where Jungkook’s head was before steadying his breathing with a hand to his chest.

Did he run here? Jungkook wonders.

“Where did you see her? Is she alright?” A million ideas swirl in Jungkook’s brain. Taehyung doesn’t rush for anything, so whatever he knows must be important.

“She was with her new boyfriend,” Taehyung begins. Heartbroken, Jungkook’s eyes begin to water. Nothing breaks through his waterline, but the threat is imminent. He already knows you’ve moved on. Some mutual friends told him a few months ago, but it still stings to hear about it again. Although, the bomb hasn’t even dropped yet. “And I think he’s hitting her.”

“WHAT?”

Jungkook is instantly moving towards the door without a destination in mind. He has no idea where you are or even who your boyfriend is, but it’s impossible to stay still. Luckily, Taehyung convinces him to listen before he flies off the handle. He gestures for Jungkook to sit again, but he refuses.

“She was at the coffee shop I always go to,” Taehyung says. “I handed her drink to her and we talked for less than a minute before this guy descended on us. He never even spoke to me, just asked her who I was and got livid when I mentioned being friends with her ex.” The gears in Jungkook’s brain are working overtime as he listens. “Anyway, it was suspicious as hell, so I followed them when they left. He took her to some alley behind the shop and started berating her about her five second conversation with me. He even had the audacity to ask her if she was interested in me.” Jungkook’s head snaps to attention; his roommate raises his palms in surrender. “Relax, she denied that she is, of course.” A sigh of relief from the younger one. “The last thing I heard him say is that if he ever sees me around again ‘someone’ will pay for it.”

“Someone? And you think he meant her?”

“He had her wrist in a vice grip and she was wearing long sleeves in spring, Kook.” Taehyung finally takes a sip of the hot chocolate he’d nearly forgotten about.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is spiraling. His selfish actions already led to a breakup, but now they’ve sent you straight into the arms of an abuser? It’s imperative that he finds out if this is true, because if it is, he’ll never forgive himself.

The tears from before make a comeback, and Jungkook plummets to the couch with his head in his hands. Taehyung already knows his best friend is crying. The shaking that occurs when he's holding back sobs is all too familiar to him by now.

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung rests his hand on the younger man’s back. “If it is true, it isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is, hyung,” Jungkook says. He looks up then, and his eyes are already bloodshot and swollen. “If I hadn’t messed up the best thing to ever happen to me –”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts. “You’re human. You made some mistakes.”

“Mistakes that cost me her! And now mistakes that could be hurting her, too.”

Jungkook’s head falls back into his hands, and his roommate decides to leave it for now. There’s not going to be any convincing him otherwise tonight.

The library is a place of solace for you in this mad, mad world. With your books flared out and your laptop placed in the center, the setup looks like an academic flower. Your music penetrating your ears through your headphones causes you to miss the sound of footsteps approaching. It’s only once a hand taps your shoulder that you realize you’re no longer alone.

“Y/N,” the newcomer whispers.

You jump and pull out a single headphone. Facing the intruder, the person that comes into view sends an electric shock through you.

Oh, that face.

He’s still as perfect as you remember him from six months ago. That thought alone is forbidden, though, so you shove it into the dark hole from whence it came.

“Jungkook? What are you doing?”

“We need to talk,” he says.

Panicking, your eyes search your surroundings.

“Not here,” you reply.

This place is too public and your ex is too close for comfort. Spotting a study room across the hall, you gesture towards it and allow him to follow you inside. Jungkook closes the door behind him and pulls the confidentiality blind down before you even ask him to.

“Taehyung told me he saw you the other day,” he starts. No objections, you nod. Jungkook takes a deep breath. “He told me you were with someone.”

“Mmhmm.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare for a fight you weren’t expecting to have today. He must know by now you’re seeing someone, so this feels somewhat out of left field.

“And well, Taehyung said that he seemed pretty… controlling,” he says cautiously.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you respond.

Jungkook sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. A habit you recognize immediately; he’s done it as long as you’ve known him.

“I mean, Taehyung thinks he may be hurting you. As in physically,” he finishes.

At first, you want to be angry. You want to scold him for daring to accuse your boyfriend of such sins. Then, a tidal wave of sadness overtakes you because he’s right. Four months have come and gone while you’ve suffered unspeakable pain at the hands of someone who’s meant to love you.

You never imagined life would be this difficult. How could it be when you met the person of your dreams at only sixteen? With such a wonderful head start, you assumed the race was yours for the taking.

Dreams are bittersweet, though, because at some point they end. If Jungkook is a dream, then Seongmin is your wake up call. A brutal and cruel wake up call that never ceases its ringing.

Even so, Jungkook can’t know the truth behind your relationship. This is a man who would do anything for you. Although that should be a comforting thought, you can’t risk him getting involved. Seongmin made it abundantly clear that you were to never have contact with your ex again. If Jungkook showed up one day trying to be your knight in shining armor, Seongmin would know immediately that you’d met with him at some point.

“That’s a ridiculous accusation,” you finally say.

“Is it?”

“Yes, and it’s frankly none of your business,” you add.

“None of my –” Jungkook scoffs. “If someone is hitting you I think I have a right to know. We may not be together anymore, but we’ve still known each other for over five years. You were my best friend!”

“Well no one is hitting me so you don’t need to worry about it,” you say.

“Then roll up your sleeves. It’s May,” he retorts.

“No! I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Jagi –”

“Don’t you dare.” You pause and inhale deeply because making a scene would only threaten your safety. “After everything we’ve been through, you do not get to call me that.”

Silence.

After a moment, you make the grave mistake of looking up. Jungkook is blinking in rapid succession to fight away the salty liquid that threatens his eyes. He makes further attempts to control his emotions by pursing his lips. The average onlooker may not notice, but you’d recognize the telltale mannerisms anywhere. You know your words stung him like a vengeant bee, and it shatters you. If only you possessed the ability to hold him until the pain relinquished its curse on you both.

The realization that breaking up with Jungkook was a mistake hit you only days into your relationship with Seongmin.

As with all relationships, there were some issues. Jungkook would often overwork himself to the point of exhaustion, which then caused mood swings so volatile it gave you whiplash. There was always an apology that followed his crankiness, but words can only go so far. Another trait you resented was his jealousy. Although, after experiencing Seongmin’s jealousy, you miss the way Jungkook would pout with his arms crossed whenever another man tried catching glances. The parables are absolutely right that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Jungkook is the only person you’ve ever dated, so when the problems started, your frustration led you to believe the grass may be greener on the other side. You would ponder if staying with Jungkook simply because he’s your high school sweetheart meant you’re settling. At the time, your problems seemed so insurmountable that you couldn’t comprehend them being the fights of a normal, healthy couple. So one night when your emotions drowned out your reason, you ended things. You visualize that night as bear trap locking in place because barely two months later, a terrible poacher ensnared you and there’s no escape.

By the time Seongmin hit you for the first time, it was too late. You’ve read enough statistics on domestic violence to know leaving would be more dangerous than staying. Statistics aside, you mentioned it once and Seongmin promised you and Jungkook would end up six feet under. A bruise here and there seems worth it to keep the man you truly love safe from the one you pretend to.

In truth, all you want is for Jungkook to keep calling you jagiya. The sound of it rolling off his tongue breathes life into you like a prayer. He’s the only person to ever call you that, and in your dreams he’s still next to you whispering it in your ear. But feigning offense at the nickname is your only chance to convince him you’ve fallen out of love.

“I think you should go,” you say.

“Y/N, please, if you need help I can –”

“I’m fine, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “Now, please go. I have an exam I’m studying for.”

Removing the chance of a retort, you exit the study room and shut the door behind you. Your eyes do an intake of the library, but it doesn’t look like anyone saw you together. A sigh of relief fills your lungs until you remember you’re never truly safe. Seongmin is a popular guy on campus, and anyone who saw could snitch on you. You distract yourself with studying since you won’t know until you see him again, anyway. But if Seongmin does find out, you can only pray he believes whatever excuse you conjure up.

The urge to scream at the top of his lungs has possessed Jungkook since the moment he left you. He knows you and therefore he knows you were lying through your teeth. Taehyung attempts to remind Jungkook that nothing is for certain yet. But any question as to the validity of Taehyung’s theory was answered as soon as Jungkook spoke with you. There’s not a secret in the world you could conceal from him.

He could see it clear as day in the way you spoke, how you held yourself, and most importantly your eyes. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and that applies to you better than anyone else he knows. Maybe others can’t see through you the way he can, but you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve.

Even so, knowing the truth doesn’t do much for him other than cause insanity. He needs you to trust him enough to open up. If you don’t, then saving you from this nightmare is impossible. For the last six months his only goal has been winning you back, but now he couldn’t care less. Even if he’s never bestowed the honor of loving you again, he needs to know you’re safe.

After some time of Jungkook descending into the madness of his mind, Taehyung is able to pull him above the surface and get him to speak with him.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, so just breathe.” Taehyung says as he hands him a second beer. Jungkook still hasn’t finished his first one. “We’ll find a way to get her out of there soon.”

“Soon, hyung? He could be beating her senseless right now.” Jungkook can’t focus on anything else for more than a second. Taehyung even turned on Jungkook’s favorite movie, but his eyes haven’t turned towards the screen once. “I need a plan of some sort. I don’t think she’ll ever admit to it unless someone sees it with their own eyes.”

“I’m pretty sure if you ever saw someone hurting Y/N you’d see red and slaughter them,” Taehyung says. “So, maybe that isn’t the best idea.”

Jungkook sighs while crossing his right arm over his left. He’s not the type to sit on the sidelines, but you’ve given him no choice.

Eventually the beers Taehyung is spoon-feeding him are enough to calm his nerves. Jungkook catches the latter half of the film, but even with a distraction as enticing as superheroes fighting aliens, you’re living in the back of his mind. Although, that’s not an affliction brought on by the news of your current predicament.

A good night’s sleep isn’t something Jungkook has experienced since you left his side. You were so much more than a girlfriend to him, and maybe that’s why he took you for granted. Breakups are a natural existence in the world, but it’s not everyday you lose your best friend. It’s obvious to him now that his confidence in you two staying together forever caused him to become lazy with his love. His heart is filled with regret for his actions during the penultimate months of your relationship. If only he had seen you with eyes wide open and recognized how much you were hurting, he could’ve saved you from all this.

Jungkook retreats to his bedroom once the credits roll. His bed looks different now that you aren’t there to keep it made and filled with stuffed animals. Although, there is one he couldn’t bare to stuff inside the back of his closet with the others. Placed gently in the center of his bed is a hand crocheted bunny that you’d made for him. It’s dressed in his usual fashion, with the bunny’s ears sticking out of a black bucket hat. Jungkook treasures the gift like no other and seeing it resting on his pillows the way you used to has his heart clenching.

After completing his nighttime routine, he ventures out for some water. Great minds must think alike because Taehyung is in the kitchen, too. His roommate greets him with a nod while spooning cereal into his mouth.

Jungkook sets his phone down on the counter while he reaches for a cold bottle from the fridge. The clock on the wall reads 10:13 and he scolds himself for being such a loser. His younger self would be disgusted that he’s going to bed before midnight. While turning back around, he notices his phone light up. Taehyung leans over to see who it is and Jungkook watches with confusion as his best friend’s eyes widen.

“It’s… it’s Y/N.”

Jungkook practically leaps over the counter to reach the phone before it can stop ringing. His fingers shake as he slides them across the glass to answer the call.

“Hello?”

There’s no answer right away, just the sound of shuffling and heavy breathing, but then Jungkook’s heart stops beating.

“HELP!”

A crash loud enough for Taehyung to hear from where he sits is followed by the sound of your pained whine. Taehyung glances at Jungkook for the briefest of moments before they’re both sprinting towards the door.

“Do you have her location?” Taehyung asks. Their shoes are barely secured to their feet as they make a mad dash for the parking lot. The older one fishes his car keys out and they slide into the car.

“On Snapchat,” Jungkook answers. Jungkook checks the social media app while Taehyung peels out of his parking spot towards the main road. “She’s at her apartment.”

With that, Taehyung checks both ways before turning down the road that leads to your apartment complex.

A text from Seongmin informing you he’s coming over appears on your phone only moments after getting home. It’s a common occurrence for him to come over without previously planning to, so you don’t fret too much. But when he shows up with the fires of hell burning in his eyes, you realize he must know what happened.

This certainly isn’t the first time he’s come over angry, and you’ve learned by now not to say anything until he brings it up. So, you play coy until he decides to release his grievances on you.

“How was your day?” You ask while traveling to the kitchen. It’s already 9:52, but you skipped dinner to study.

“Fine at first,” he answers. Humming in response, you keep yourself busy in the kitchen, but it’s only to hide that his presence alone terrifies you. “But, then I heard something that kind of ruined my day.” Rather than answering, you simply gesture for him to continue. “Were you alone in a study room with your ex today?”

Your heart plummets into your gut. It should be impossible, but someone must have seen or heard you earlier. You should regret the exchange, especially knowing the consequences, but you can’t bring yourself to. Seeing Jungkook today is number one when listing the highlights of the past four months. Maybe you’re crazy, but you’d do it over again just to be near him.

“Yes,” you answer.

Suddenly, Seongmin is behind you with his arms on either side of yours. His knuckles are white from how tight he’s gripping the counter. The position makes you feel like a zoo animal; caged in. Leaning down, he whispers right into your ear.

“And why the hell were you with him?”

“He found me there while I was studying,” you start. A hum in acknowledgment is heard from your boyfriend. “And the thing he wanted to say was really personal, so I went into the study room with him.”

“And what was that?”

“His mom,” you say. Lying isn’t your forte, but there’s no way Seongmin can know the real purpose for your meeting. “She’s really sick and she and I were very close so he thought I should know.”

Seongmin sighs before slamming his hands down on the counter. You practically jump out of your skin, but your reactions are what he feeds off. Forcing yourself to stay calm is a skill you’ve had to learn only recently.

“And he couldn’t text you?”

“You made me block him.”

“He could’ve had someone else do it.”

“Yes, he could’ve, but it isn’t my fault that he didn’t.”

Seongmin grabs your forearms and spins you to face him. The sheer force of his fingers around your skin has you wincing. One unanticipated consequence of your relationship is that each violent interaction hurts more than the last, since you’re usually still healing from the previous one.

“Not your fault?” Seongmin shakes you once. “You should’ve told him to fuck off the second you saw him.”

“It’s his mom, Seongmin.”

A dry chuckle comes from your boyfriend before he releases his hold on you with a shove. Your lower back hits the counter and an involuntary hiss escapes.

“I don’t give a shit.”

The conversation needs to end here. You’ve been through this a thousand times now and if it escalates any further he’ll start doing more than just shoving you. Fear is coursing through you same as the blood in your veins, but that feeling is second nature to you now.

“Seongminie, can we please just move on. I’m –”

“No, we can’t move on!” The volume of his voice sends a shudder down your spine. “I only have a few rules for you, and yet you can’t seem to stay in line to save your life.” You scoff at his comment involuntarily. It’s not smart, but you do it anyway. Instantly, his eyes narrow and he encroaches on your space. “Is something funny?”

“I ‘stay in line’ all the time,” you retort. “Like I said, it’s not my fault Jungkook came to –”

Your sentence finishes with a cry as Seongmin snatches your left arm and twists it behind your back, forcing you against the counter again. You instinctually bend over the marble to alleviate the pain pulsing through your limb.

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name.” His voice drips out like venom, and he presses down harder as he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. At your emotional response, Seongmin grows angrier and pulls your arm as far as he can take it. You’ve been practicing breathing techniques to help with pain, but between your lower body pressed against the counter and your twisted arm, it’s practically unbearable. “Please, I promise I’ll be good.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer because Seongmin decides to tug your arm up instead of over, and due to his strength and the speed at which he does it, you feel your shoulder dislocate. A scream pierces the air, but only for a moment before your boyfriend is covering your mouth with his hand to silence you.

You’re hysterical now because you’ve never felt pain like this in your life. Seongmin has punched, slapped, and even burned you, but never broken a bone or dislocated anything. He's reaching new levels of violence tonight and deep down you know it’s far from over.

You’ve never fought back before, but your body is screaming at you to resist. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he will kill you tonight if it continues this way.

Acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, you bite down on the hand used to muffle your screams. Seongmin curses and steps back just enough for you to break free. The pain radiating from your shoulder is immense, but it has to be ignored for now. You duck under his arm, but his reflexes are quicker than yours, and you miss his flexed foot blocking your escape.

Heading face first to the floor, Seongmin doesn’t give you any reprieve before he’s pulling you by your ankles back to him. He kneels over you, placing one hand on your right knee and slamming the other next to your head. Your breath catches as he lowers his face inches from your own.

“I hope you said goodbye to that fucker today, because you’re never going to see him again,” he threatens. Then, he puts all his weight on your kneecap, shattering it. You throw your head back as a scream rips through your throat. A wet warmth soils the area, and you know he crushed it hard enough for the bones to break through your skin.

Death is knocking on your door, and Seongmin seems hellbent on allowing them inside. His threat replays in your mind, and the idea of never seeing Jungkook again sparks a flame inside you. With all the strength at your disposal, you send your uninjured knee into his groin. Luckily, his pained reaction gives you enough time to slide out from under him. The adrenaline controlling your actions leads you to the door, but your conscience warns you that it’s too far. Therefore, calling for help becomes your next plan of action.

Inch by inch you crawl towards the table where your phone lays. The pain is overwhelming, but your only hope of survival is still an arms length away. Using the strength of your good leg, you rise from the floor. Seongmin is still recovering from your blow, so you know you have a few more seconds. The phone is unsteady in your palm due to your hands shaking. Opening your emergency contacts, you aim to click your best friend’s name, but Seongmin is on top of you again before you can complete the task.

When your attempt to call for help fails, you do the next best thing and hope someone in your apartment complex will be a good samaritan.

“HELP!”

Just as the word breaches the air, Seongmin takes an empty vase and smashes it against your upper back. You topple down again and he returns to his previous position over you. Making no mistakes, this time he uses his legs to pin yours to the ground.

There’s a pause that gives you time to wonder what’s coming next, but he answers your question by wrapping his fingers around your throat. Gasping, you attempt to reach his face with your hands. Perhaps if you can scratch him hard enough you’ll have a chance. But this is apparently not Seongmin’s first rodeo because he stretches away from you so that your efforts are futile. Still, you claw at the air in front of him like an enraged kitten. With both hands squeezing, he constricts your airway further, completely silencing your cries for help.

This is it, you think. The cold floor of your apartment will be your final resting place. With that in mind, you decide you deserve a moment of peace before you go. You grant your eyes the permission to close as you ignore the way your oxygen supply slowly dwindles.

Among all your friends and family, there is one person you wish you could see once more. It’s not that you love him more than the others, but he’s the one person who’d cause you to leave this world with regret.

Jungkook. Your Jungkook. He’s the reason you’re the woman you are today. The oceans could rise or the sky could fall and you’d still love him just the same. It would shatter you inside and out if you never got to see him again. Sending a prayer up to the heavens, you wish for the ability to tell him you love him one last time.

A kaleidoscope of memories projects across your mind, and maybe this is what people mean when they say your life will flash before your eyes. Surprisingly, you aren’t scared because in the worst moment of your life at least you get to see him. And just like always, his presence alone brings you solace.

This is it, you think again; peacefully this time.

Jungkook is thankful Taehyung is driving like a racecar driver, and that your apartment is nearby. His knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since his body hit the seat. Currently, adrenaline is the sole provider of fuel for his body. If Taehyung, his voice of reason, hadn’t been there he would’ve found himself running to you. It’s impossible for him to think straight right now, which only causes poor decisions on his part.

The complex comes into view only a few minutes later, and Taehyung is maneuvering his car like a pro as he pulls up next to the front door. Jungkook gets out, but turns around when he notices his roommate not following.

“I’ll wait here just in case. You go,” Taehyung explains.

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes his way to the door. It may have been purposeful, but you never asked him for your key back. He thanks the stars for that foresight and opens the main door. He skips multiple steps at a time as he ascends the stairs, and once your door is in sight, he charges towards the finish line. There’s no noise coming from inside, and the deafening silence chills him to the bone. His fear is validated when your apartment door swings open, and the sight makes his heart stop.

Your boyfriend is over you with his legs keeping yours flush to the floor. A trail of blood leads from the kitchen to your current position. Pieces of a broken vase litter the room. But what starts a fire inside Jungkook is the large hands wrapped around your neck. Thankfully, although your eyes are closed, your chest is rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.

Without a second thought, and before the bastard spots him, Jungkook grabs the lamp from your coffee table and swings it at your boyfriend’s head. He’s careful to avoid unleashing his full strength on him because as much as he wants to, murder isn't the answer.

Jungkook’s attack allows you to inhale and a breath of fresh air fills your lungs. Hearing your sign of life, he checks that your boyfriend is fully unconscious first. Not taking any chances, Jungkook ties him up with a string of lights and secures him to a desk that’s screwed into the floor.

Finally making his way to your side, he analyzes your features. You’re struggling to open your eyes and even Jungkook can see your lungs working overtime to suck in oxygen from the air. Jungkook moves as close as possible to you without harming you further. Gently, he rests his hand against your face to get your attention.

“Y/N,” he whispers. “Jagiya.”

Whimpering at the sound of his voice, it’s clear you’re still not fully aware of your surroundings. You slowly blink until your eyes gather the strength to open. When they do, they widen in shock at his presence. He realizes then that you must not have known you called him.

“Jungkook?” Your hand reaches up to caress his face, and immediately Jungkook feels warm blood transfer from your hand to the skin of his cheek. He grabs your hand with his free one and inspects it.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding,” he says. “Where are you bleeding from?” He answers himself by looking down and spotting the pieces of your knee cap jutting out through a hole in your jeans. “Oh,” his voice cracks. “Oh, baby.” Jungkook’s face contorts as if he’s the one in pain, and he’s unable to resist the urge anymore. So, he scoops you into his arms. You hiss at the sudden movement, but the feeling of peace that washes over you is almost enough to numb the pain. Jungkook cries into your hair, and in response, your body relies on its muscle memory to sneak your hand into his hair and cradle his head.

“I’m sorry,” you croak through busted vocal chords. It hurts, but your soul won’t rest until he knows how you feel. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Jungkook whispers. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby.” Of no fault of his own, his comforting words have an opposite effect, and you begin sobbing into his chest. His hold on you only tightens as he continues. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” For the first time in forever, his lips press a kiss to your crown. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“Jungkook,” you whine. There are thousands of emotions swimming in your heart, but the only one rising above the fray is relief. It’s been an eternity since you’ve experienced Jungkook’s warmth, and even with the pain overtaking you, you’re so happy. He’s become both literally and figuratively your breath of fresh air.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to gaze at your face. His eyes do a once over to check for any more injuries, but all he can see are the blotchy finger marks around your neck that will soon turn to bruises.

“We have to get you to a hospital, jagi,” he says.

“No!”

“What? Y/N, you –”

“If I go to the hospital they’ll make me report it,” you say.

“Well, of course,” Jungkook replies.

“No, you don’t understand,” you begin. “Domestic violence is only a 90 day misdemeanor and that’s only once he’s found guilty and sentenced. His family is wealthy so he’ll bond out right away.”

“But –”

“Jungkook, he's threatened to hurt me and you if I ever left him or told anyone about him,” you explain. “As soon as he gets out, he’ll come for us. For you. I can’t risk that. I don’t know what I’d do if he ever hurt you.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere, anywhere. I’d run away to the ends of the earth with you, baby.” You're overwhelmed and scared, but you have Jungkook, and that means everything will be alright. “As long as I’m alive he will never come near you again. Do you hear me? Never.” He inhales. “I promise you, Y/N.”

Before you can start crying again, you nod and agree to go with him.

As gently as he can, he lifts you into his arms. You tuck your dislocated arm into your body so it doesn’t jostle, and Jungkook makes sure to avoid your knee with his hands underneath your legs. As he moves towards the door, a dizzy spell forces you to close your eyes.

“You can’t fall asleep on me, baby,” Jungkook explains. “Just keep your eyes on me, can you do that?” You groan as your head lulls against his shoulder. Jungkook stops to ensure you follow his directions.

“Remember when I took you to that amusement park our first summer in college?” The slightest smile appears on your lips; giving Jungkook his answer. “And I made you ride the pirate ship?” The corners of your mouth turn down at the mention of it. “You were so scared, but I told you to look at me, just me, and because of that you weren’t scared anymore.”

“I remember,” you say.

“I need you to do that for me again, okay?” Nodding, you open your eyes and are met with his own. You sigh and cuddle as close as you can to his chest. Jungkook raises an eyebrow causing you to nod once more. No exchanging of words is necessary for you two.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jungkook begins to walk again as you focus all your attention on him. He takes more than double the time to descend the stairs than he did coming up them, but eventually you make it outside where Taehyung is still parked.

Taehyung gasps and exits the car when he sees you, but Jungkook instructs him to get back in and drive straight to the hospital. Jungkook situates you and him in Taehyung’s backseat. He sits directly behind the driver’s seat with you on his lap. Your head falls to rest on his shoulder, and Jungkook keeps one hand on the outside of your leg to keep them from moving during the ride.

“Who’s driving?” you wonder aloud.

“It’s me, Y/N, Taehyungie.”

“Tae,” you gasp in delight. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, bug,” he replies.

You cuddle further into Jungkook then, and Jungkook responds in kind by holding you as close to him as humanly possible. His head comes to rest atop yours; leaving soft kisses in your hair every now and then.

When you reach the hospital, Jungkook carries you inside where he’s instructed to place you on a stretcher. Taehyung follows only a few moments later after valeting his car. The nurses warn them that they won’t be allowed back with you and this causes you to panic. So, you reach for Jungkook’s hand before they can wheel you away.

“Koo,” you cry.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you get out,” he explains.

“No, no,” you argue. “Please, I don’t want to be away from you.”

“I know,” he says. The hand not intertwined with yours brushes your hair back. “But they’re gonna take good care of you, I promise.” He bends down and kisses your forehead. His lips linger there. “Tae and I will handle everything back at your place while we wait for you.”

The nurse states they need to take you now, and you reluctantly loosen the grip you have on Jungkook’s hand, but your eyes never leave his as they move you to a separate wing of the hospital.

It’s nearing three in the morning when the nurses allow Jungkook back to your room. Taehyung went to your apartment to meet the police and promised to bring food as soon as everything is settled there.

As he walks to your room, the nurse informs him you had surgery to fix your knee cap, and they popped your shoulder back into place while you were under anesthesia. They also had to remove small shards of the vase from your back and neck. The list of injuries causes Jungkook’s blood to boil, and he’s glad Taehyung went back to your apartment instead of him.

When he enters the room, you’re conversing with a nurse while she draws your blood. A brace rests securely on your neck to prevent further injury. Your eyes immediately light up when Jungkook comes into view. His name falls from your lips, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the nurse says while exiting.

Jungkook comes to your bedside, but stops short. With a loving smile, you gesture for him to sit. He’s terrified of hurting you, so he stays farther away than his body yearns for.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook plays with his hands over his lap, but you take them in your own.

“So much better now,” you answer. You continue before he can interrupt. “Jungkook.” His big eyes find yours. “Thank you.”

Jungkook smiles only briefly before shaking his head.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you,” he says.

“Yeah,” you respond. “Me, too.” There’s a pause. And then, “I love you.” Jungkook's eyes go from big to huge. His mouth opens to speak, but then closes a minute later when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. “I never stopped, Koo, and I won’t ever stop. Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears escape from the safety of your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Jungkook removes one of his hands from yours to gently brush them away.

“Please don’t apologize,” he says. You go to argue, but he stops you. “Breaking up with me was the right thing to do, jagiya. I didn’t treat you the way you deserve. But believe me when I say that after experiencing what it’s like to lose you, I will never treat you like that again.” Now it’s your turn to wipe his tears. Your delicate hand caresses the apple of his cheek as it smooths away the wetness. “I took what we had for granted, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“So, we can try again?” Jungkook is taken aback by the question. He’s the one who ruined everything, therefore he should be the one asking you that.

“Y/N, are you insane?”

“Well, I –”

“You’re the love of my life, and you think there’s a chance in hell I wouldn’t want to try again?” Jungkook sighs and finally moves closer to you. “I’ve wanted you back since the moment you walked out my door, baby.” He leans down, leaving your lips mere inches apart for the first time since your last night together. The proximity has you both holding your breath. “I love you so, so much, and I always will.”

Jungkook was planning to go in for the kiss, but you beat him to it. Leaning forward just enough to press your mouth to his, you kiss him fully.

The nervous system inside Jungkook’s body is on fire the instant he feels your lips. If not for the neck brace, he’d take your face in his hands and devour you whole. Your lips quench a one thousand year old thirst inside him. He can only imagine this is what the last drop of water in a vast desert tastes like. You’re just as soft as he remembers, and you taste the same, too. His Y/N hasn’t changed at all, and he’s unbelievably thankful for that.

Seongmin was taken into custody by the police that night, and although he bonded out, there was a restraining order put in place. You were terrified that it wouldn’t be enough to stop him, but he was smart enough not to break it, or else his bond would be revoked. He was sentenced to 90 days as the law states, but along with his conviction came the loss of his scholarships and expulsion from school. Apparently his parents were so angry they completely cut him off. So even if he dares to break the restraining order, he has no transportation and now lives a few hours away in a town he can afford.

There’s still a residual fear that lives inside you, but right now you feel safe. Jungkook only leaves your side when absolutely necessary, and whenever he does, Taehyung keeps you company. Originally you rejected the idea, but after Jungkook explained the anxiety he feels whenever he’s away, you gave in. Afterall, you both experienced the horrors of that night, albeit in different ways.

The physical wounds have healed, and you see a counselor once a week to ensure you’re mentally healing, too. During the weeks following the incident, you spent hours crying into Jungkook’s chest until you wore yourself out. Your poor boyfriend was terrified you’d never recover from what Seongmin put you through. You always remind him, though, that he’s the reason you have recovered. Your relationship with Seongmin forced you to bury yourself, and only with Jungkook’s outstretched hand pulling you from the rubble were you able to break free.

Now, as you’re getting ready for date night, your past feels a lifetime away.

You’re finishing putting in earrings while Jungkook laces his combat boots. How someone who seemingly trips on air can walk in those things is beyond you. Catching one last glance in the mirror, you meet Jungkook near the door where he’s waiting. He holds your coat open and you slip your arms in. Then, he gently spins you to face him. Before you can dissent, he begins buttoning it on your behalf. You’d complain, but the way he pouts in concentration has you swooning. When he’s done, you thank him with a kiss. You’d think it was the first time by the way a smile breaks out across his handsome face.

“You ready, jagi?”

“That depends,” you say. “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his annoyance is clearly feigned because he pulls you into him.

“Come on, you know I don’t ruin my surprises,” he answers.

“Fine, fine,” you acquiesce. “I suppose I’ll follow your lead.”

Like magnets, your hands find each other as you exit, flipping the lights off as you go. As you walk down the hallway, Jungkook glances your way and brushes a stray hair from your face. A content sigh escapes you while resting your head on his shoulder. He follows suit, gently placing his atop your own.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

“Happy anniversary, Koo.”

I Want You to Stay (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 261.3k

Status: Complete

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko

A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!

And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕

Season 1 -> Playlist 🎶: on the way home

Episode 1 (wc: 12k)

Episode 2 (wc: 11.9k)

Episode 3 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 4 (wc: 11.4k)

Episode 5 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 6 (wc: 14.6k)

Episode 7 (wc: 15.4k)

Episode 8 (wc: 17.4k)

Episode 9 (wc: 18.4k)

Episode 10 (wc: 20.6k)

Episode 11 (wc: 23.5k)

Episode 12 (wc: 24.7k)

Episode 13 (wc: 29k)

Episode 14 - End (wc: 32.8k)

Season 2 (??)

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | Series M.list

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly!)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

word count: tbd

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, alcohol consumption, sexism in the media and business world, morally grey characters, toxic relationships, mentions of therapy, abandonment issues, and explicit sexual content (specified per chapter)

playing: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ik what you're thinking! This header is low effort but it's what i got for now 😫 forgive me pls! Also yeah its another fricken taekook love triangle-ish bc I can't let this scenario go. Was supposed to be a oneshot but here we are...i hope you enjoy! 🌹❤

Chapters

༓ chapter i —

"I lie to my heart 'cause I thought you felt it" [3.3k]

༓ chapter ii —

"You can't light a fire, if the candle's melted" [4.5k]

༓ chapter iii —

"No you don't have to love me" [5.3k]

༓ chapter iv —

"Don't act like I mean nothing" [11.3k]

༓ chapter v —

"Untake this heart"

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

if anyone who follows me likes bts and doesn't know about it there's a ton of free content that was previously pay walled on the kocowa+ app look free concerts and shows

Slide - MYG (18+) [Sneak Peek]

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: implied smut, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

* Coming Soon *

Where she left - You started. 

You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together. 

And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man. 

It started from there - the arrangement. 

At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch. 

Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers. 

Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark. 

You had made a mistake. 

You fell in love.

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

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a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist (coming soon!)