Bts Poly Relationship - Tumblr Posts

This keeps getting interesting with every chapter. I love it so much

cry me a river | the reckless

— summary: in the face of danger, you run right into it

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 4.7k

— warnings: slight violence

— PART 24 / previous post / masterpost

It’s about one in the morning when you sneak out of the room with gentle steps, making sure to not wake the one who sleeps on the armchair beside the bed, his soft little snores still heard until his presence disappears with the closed door.

The hallways are as silent as it was back in the room, the only thing heard is the sounds of your footsteps echoing through, and as you close your shawl closer to your body, you look around to make your way to the familiar steps that lead outside where the greenhouse stands.

The doors are left unlocked so you let yourself in and step through the glass doors, closing your eyes for a moment to breathe in the scent of the greens all around you.

It’s during lonely moments like this you feel your heart craving for some sort of familiarity. Not just the presence of your Reapers but for the presence of your manor itself.

For years you spent hating that place more than anything because that was where everything happened; where you were born, where you grew up, watching your mother hating you with every fiber left in her, chasing after your father’s attention, shedding tears on top of gentle shoulders, trapped behind the steel door of a white room, training, meeting good people, meeting bad people, everything.

Everything.

You can’t recall when the feeling of dread and disdain turned to eyes seeking for it, feet yearning to step back into it. Maybe it was the moment your father died, when the dynasty he worked so hard to build broke down into pieces like a house of cards, when you took over and made it into the home that it is now starting to feel like.

You returned to it after Leehyun, locking yourself in the comfort of your room, knowing that if you were to step outside, your Reapers would be right there with the smallest calling of their names. It served as your escape when it used to be the very reason you hated your existence.

The manor has become home and perhaps the only reason it’s able to be such a thing is because of what you’ve built it to be.

You want to escape, to return to it and simply hide in it and have no one bother you until you’re ready to step out yourself.

On the bench where Alexander sat this morning, you take your seat and close your eyes, trying to manipulate your mind into thinking you aren’t in Norway, that you’re back in Seoul, back at the manor, and not somewhere far, far away.

It’s exhausting doing this, your revenge plan. It’s exhausting having to put up a front, exhausting having to freeze up and recall unwanted memories that you wish could bury forever in the back of your mind.

But buried memories can’t always stay buried. They return, eventually, in time, whether you’re prepared or not.

You can’t tell how much time has passed but when you feel something against your feet accompanied by small little pants, you open your eyes to find the little puppy that accepted you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

You look down at him and he returns your gaze with a tilt in his head, tail wagging, and swirls about in a circle once before using his nose to poke at your leg again. He reminds you of the children at The Academy, how they’ve never been scared of you despite wanting to always push them away with your cold demeanor. It’s like Kiwi sees right through you, just like them, and in your silence, you pick up the small little thing to bring him onto your lap.

His tail wags a little more and when you run your hand through his fur, he gets a little more excited and affectionate.

Besides the children, there’s someone else you see in him.

“You remind me of someone,” you say as he nuzzles into the feeling of your palm. “Though unlike you, he wasn’t too fond of me in the beginning. It took some time for him to warm up but once he got to that point, he wouldn’t stop following me around.”

You fall silent again, thinking, remembering, reminiscing, and your fingers stop playing around with the little puppy on your lap.

The memories aren’t as hazy as they used to be, they’re a little clearer, a little closer to home. You can feel it in your heart when something feels like it’s just stabbed it, and in your stomach when you feel a little drop.

“I’m sorry for being selfish,” a voice whispers into your ear. “I’m sorry for only ever thinking about myself.”

But the thing about that is, you cannot be sorry for something that is within your nature, you cannot be sorry for wanting to put yourself first in a cruel, cruel world. When everything feels wrong, when the world feels like it’s always against you, when you do not know who to put your trust in.

If you were a little more mature and a little more brave, would you have been able to tell him the things you want to say now?

Things like; it wasn’t your fault. Things like; it’s alright, and you’re okay, and rest well.

Rest well, rest well, rest well.

You lean your head forward to the sky, gaze closed, as if hoping the things you spoke within your heart could be heard from him wherever he stays.

And as the silence continues, you feel your consciousness eventually slip away as your shoulders loosen their tensions with the feel of the little puppy resting well in your lap.

You didn’t realize it, that you had fallen asleep, but you know yourself waking when you feel a presence closing in and immediately opening your eyes to meet the old man who has a blanket hovered before you, his eyes falling a little surprised because he hadn’t expected you to wake up so easily.

“It’s good to put your guard down a little, you know,” Alexander says with a small chuckle as you accept the blanket to drape it behind you.

“I’ve learned my lesson with that,” you answer him and scoot over to the edge of the bench in order to make room for him.

He takes his seat beside you though leaves enough space in between and you’re thankful this man is observant. Kiwi’s awake but remains quiet and still, head resting against his paws with his tail swaying side to side.

“Do you have anyone you can trust in this world?” Alexander crosses a leg over the other and you look at your watch to see that it’s about four in the morning.

You managed to sleep in an unfamiliar place while knowing there weren’t any Reapers that could come to you at any second. How odd.

“There are always chances someone can stab you in the back.” Maybe the presence of Kiwi helped you. “It’s never a good idea to put your full trust in anyone.”

“You say that but one day you might come to know it feels rather nice putting unconditional faith in someone.”

You shake your head, brows furrowing. “Even if that someone has a good heart and good intentions, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

There’s only been one person you know you can truly trust but he’s gone from this world, only ever being able to see him again when he wishes to visit you in your dreams. He’s the only person you’d ever allow to hurt you over and over again, even if it isn’t the real version of him.

Mister Butler can hate you and betray you but you’d let him do it again and again and maybe that’s because in your heart, you know those versions that the nightmares give you are simply from your own imagination and that he’d never truly come to hate you. He’s incapable of betraying your trust. Someone like him, who stayed by your side when he didn’t have to, isn’t a man who can have his heart easily swayed into hating you.

“Are you tired of betrayal?”

“I’m tired of everything,” you admit and he looks at you up and down, eyes narrowing slightly.

“And yet here you are, out in Norway.” Alexander knows a thing or two, he isn’t dumb, and you aren’t someone to think otherwise. He wouldn’t be in the position he is now if he was, and you don’t deny what he implies in his words. “You run straight into the very things that make you tired.”

“Because it is the only way I can feel alive.” You look on straight ahead before you, watching the pretty sky that pokes out from behind the plants of the greenhouse. “Otherwise I’d be in my room, rotting away. There is no purpose in running away, there is no purpose in leaving things be. My father did not leave this world for me to simply carry on as if he never existed.”

Some may take that as you carrying on your father’s legacy and whatever Alexander is thinking, you don’t care too much for it because all it matters is what you know. You didn’t kill your father just to stay silent for the rest of your life. His death was the beginning of everything.

Your turning point.

“And no one can stop a mind that’s already been made up.” Alexander nods, understanding, and doesn’t push for answers, but perhaps in the back of his mind, he’s a little curious about you and your goals and aspirations in this life. What drives you, what made you into the sort of person you are today, but Alexander is wise unlike many old men you’ve met throughout your life, so he doesn’t question things beyond your boundary.

And so he diverts the subject once again, turning it to the puppy in your lap.

“Perhaps you should adopt a pet of your own, to help you ease your mind a little,” he tells you with a fond gaze at Kiwi. “Humans can be quite disappointing, but a loyal pet will stay loyal for the rest of its life. Not to mention they’re the greatest comfort when someone needs it.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you should turn to a dog rather than humans in your time of need. Humans are disappointing creatures after all. But, “It’s too much of a hassle,” you say. “I can’t even take care of my own self properly, it’d be unwise of me to try and take care of another being.”

“...Is that so?”

It becomes a daily occurrence; the talks in the greenhouse, and soon you come to realize that Alexander isn’t one to let just anyone into his greenhouse. The doors that are usually locked during hours when one should be asleep are kept open, and perhaps that’s because he’s come to realize that you don’t sleep a lot, at least not in the house of a stranger, so he leaves them open for you to visit when you need your space.

And in the morning, around four or five AM when he awakens, he’ll come along and strike up a conversation and the two of you will speak about the things he brings up. Things like Seoul and of the Reaper gang, sometimes he’ll ask of Master Kitagawa, other times he’ll ask how far your skills go.

You speak to him in vague terms, careful not to tell him everything, but he comes to know that you were an only child, married once in an arranged marriage, but divorced. He doesn’t seem too surprised by that fact probably because everyone knows this happens all the time.

And in him knowing a little more about you, you come to know a little more about him as well.

Like when Kiwi came into his life and the fact that he’s had other pets throughout his lifetimes before but they’ve all died and left him.

You asked him why he continues adopting pets when he knows they don’t live as long as humans do, why he hurts himself over and over again, but he simply smiles and says that sometimes being able to love is better than being lonely. That it doesn’t matter how many times he has to watch them die and that he’d never regret loving them.

Alexander believes in reincarnation, that the souls of his first puppy dies and returns in the form of the other pets he’s had, so he’s never truly lonely, and something about that, believing in such a thing, though it sounds a bit absurd, is a little bit beautiful in its own way.

If you could believe Mister Butler died and returned through someone else, it’d be a nice delusion to live in, and despite the fact that there have been one or two guys that have reminded you of him, the truth is, no one can ever be Mister Butler.

Not Hoseok. Not Mingyu.

Because Mister Butler is like family. He was. 

Through your marriage with Namjoon, he was your older brother, but he always felt closer to a father figure to you, and perhaps that’s because your father was never there for you. Mingyu is closer to an older brother. A companion. A friend.

And Hoseok?

The one that got away.

The right person at the wrong time.

And because of that fact, you don’t allow yourself to be near him for too long, hence denying his companionship when Jungkook told you it’d probably be better if Hoseok were standing guard at your side rather than him.

It’s true, Hoseok would be better. You wouldn’t be as cautious towards him as you are of Jungkook, but it’s that exact reason that you cannot let him near.

You cannot let him shake your core, so you endure what you can and let Jungkook stay near you despite the constant reminder of what he did all those years ago.

It’s not entirely his fault but as you’ve said, it doesn’t hurt any less.

In your time getting closer to Alexander, he’s refused the appearance of Karl several times. Asher says if he has to, his grandfather will meet him elsewhere. Just not in the house. The guy has come to guess that you’re here because of Karl, and if he’s guessed it, maybe Alexander has too.

Though the old man never brings it up despite the plenty of chances during your greenhouse talks.

“Any progress?”

Dawn remains in the sky as ever and while Jungkook sleeps, you sit on the windowsill to take a call from the other side of the world. It’s a bit chilly to head out today so you stay indoors this time, making sure to keep your voice low.

“Plenty. It’s been quite peaceful these days, it feels a bit out of place.” Alexander’s kindness wasn’t something you expected the first day you walked into Norway. You expected things to be harder after meeting Asher but surprisingly, things are quite…easy, to say the least. “I have a feeling it won’t last too long.”

“No?” Namjoon sounds a little confused on his end. “Why do you say that? Should we come over earlier than planned?”

“No, don’t do that. Come as scheduled,” you say and look away from the window to the man who’s moved from sleeping on the armchair to the bed. It took some time to convince him initially but eventually Jungkook agreed to take the bed since you don’t really sleep anyway.

“You have something planned, don’t you?” There’s some suspicion in his voice and you want to laugh a little at how things are right now.

Who would have thought you’d be back on speaking terms with the man you thought you’d push away for good? But here he is, back and ready to give you his trust. You don’t know if he’s smart or stupid or both. Maybe there’s a bit of both, but it probably took some time for him to consider it, being as the whole thing was about his brother whom he loves very dearly.

Namjoon’s finally using his head.

Though you aren’t too sure if you like it so much.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

“I don’t know if I can trust those words so easily. The last time you left the country, you disregarded your life just for that plan of yours.”

“Listen.” You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s a pause on his end before he speaks again. “You didn’t assure me that you won’t do something reckless,” he notes and you internally click your tongue, “which means that feeling of the peace not lasting for long is you actively causing that to happen.” When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Will you stop being so secretive and let me know what you’re thinking? Maybe then you won’t be in the same position you were with Leehyun, and me and my boys and the Reapers will know how to help you.”

Well.

“You can’t keep hiding, Y/N. Stop being so reckless, you’re too reckless.”

“Watch me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“No?”

Another sigh and he knows he can’t win. “Just…if you decide it’s better for me to go over sooner rather than later, let me know. I’ll be waiting. Right here, just a phone call away.”

“...Sure.”

You don’t think too much about it. You don’t want to think too much about it. 

So when the cloud gives way to the sun and it shines higher in the sky, you finally take up Karl’s request to have tea and catch up, deciding you shouldn’t keep running away from what you’re trying to face.

You have Yeonjun stay by your side this time, rather than Jungkook, in case Karl says something out of line and Jungkook will hear more things than you want him to. You stay in the garden of Alexander’s mansion, keeping a little distance away from the building itself, and with the feel of eyes from a window behind you, the conversation begins.

“I remember him,” Karl points at your escort when he takes his first sip of the tea. “Jun? Joon?” Yeonjun doesn’t make an effort to fix him and simply remains quiet. “Right, never one to talk but always by your side.” His eyes settle back on you, a small glint of mirth in them. “You have quite the loyal companion.”

“Yes..I do.” You ignore his gaze to take a sip of your own tea, keeping your replies short.

“I’m still a bit hurt you didn’t reach out to me about your father’s death. We were good friends, you knew that.”

Of course you did. “I apologize, it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” He raises a brow, unconvinced. “Hmm…and here I thought, I left a good impression in those four months I stayed in Seoul.”

You did. 

You did indeed leave an impression that will last a lifetime.

“Maybe I should have tried harder?”

That mirth in his eyes. Again.

You want to punch him.

“How did he die though? The man I knew isn’t someone who would have easily died and he would have updated me about his health had he fallen ill.”

“He was betrayed,” you say, not batting an eye, and Karl puts his cup down after hearing that.

His eyes are blown out. “Your father? Betrayed? And he didn’t see that coming?”

“They were smart.”

“Even still..” He can’t believe it, though you don’t blame him too much. The father you both know is not someone who’s easily trusting of others, therefore he’s always right there to pick out someone who will betray him before they can execute their plan. 

That’s why it took so long to manipulate him into believing you were a daughter full on worshiping his ground without an ounce of betrayal in your veins. That’s why your masterful plan took so long. You had to convince your father into believing he had won in manipulating you to his side when all along, you had been waiting to stab him in the back. Facing a man like him, smart, calculating, a manipulating gaslighter who thinks the world centers around him requires more than just simple brains and planning.

It took years to execute your plans and even then you feel like you could have done better with everything. For one, not letting anyone see what had happened, aka Bangtan. But what’s done is done. Dwelling on past mistakes is just stupid and a waste of time.

“And what about you?” When Karl points the finger at you, his gaze narrows, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re his daughter, his perfect little doll. You didn’t see that someone was plotting your father’s death? Is it not your job to protect him?”

“That’s right,” you give him nothing to fight against, just simply accepting the accusations placed upon you. “I failed in protecting him. I am an incompetent daughter who should have done better.”

Karl stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Your father did all that he could for you and still, you–” 

When he looks at you again and meets the gaze you send him, his word stops mid-sentence. Your stare isn’t threatening, it isn’t a glare, nor one that is meant to scare him off, yet something in them lies a hidden threat either way, were he to continue speaking. Karl, seeing that, lets out a chuckle and he closes in on you, patting you on the shoulder before simply leaving his hand there.

You look at it for a second before giving him the attention he wants as he leans in, nose inches away from you.

“Your father created you into the weapon that you are today, my dear little Y/N, and you’ve even been trained under Kitagawa, so why is it that you failed to protect him? Huh? Tell me.”

From the corner of your eye, Yeonjun moves slightly closer, though he keeps his distance and doesn’t dare to make a move unless you instruct him otherwise.

The breath against your face, the touch of skin burning through the thin cloth of your dress, the sides of your knees meeting one another, back straightening up, heels rising from the ground, fingers intertwined into each other, sitting on your lap.

You keep your eyes open, meeting his gaze, but internally you’re counting in your head and holding your breath, hearing the beat of your heart that might as well rip through your rib cages and past the barrier of your skin to physically beat widely before Karl himself.

Maybe he hears it, maybe he can feel it, but whether he does or not, he has no will to move away from you and you know Karl, he isn’t dumb. He knows exactly the effect he has on you right now. He saw it, knows just how you felt all those weeks ago when you were in the living room and he touched you.

He knows and doesn’t care one bit.

Just as he was all those years ago.

They never change.

“What is it that you want from me, Karl?” He doesn’t fix you into calling him uncle this time. “Do you want me to repent on my knees and beg for forgiveness? My father’s already six feet underground, it’s not as if he’ll hear me now, but as his close friend, if you wish for me to do just that, I will. Just for you.”

There’s malice in his eyes, a scoff that leaves him when he watches you, and finally, he moves back. Just a little. “You’ve gotten quite bold, haven’t you? Now that your father isn’t here to teach you a lesson.”

“And if I have? What will you do about it?” You push back, leaning forward, challenging him despite your body screaming at you to run away. “Go ahead and do whatever you’d like with me, there’s no one here right now that can stop you. I can tell Yeonjun to pluck his eyes out right now and he’ll do just that. He won’t say a word and he won’t move unless I tell him otherwise.”

At the mention of the boy, Karl looks over between you and him, and then something in him lights up slightly as if he’d just remembered something. As if he’d just realized something.

“That’s right...what loyal companions…” He steps back, releasing your shoulder, and tilts his head back as he laughs obnoxiously. “Is this all about that little boy I messed with? Him?” The laugh rings a little louder, a little more crazed. “You pretend you’re so cold and have no feelings and yet here you are, chasing after me all the way from Seoul, just for a boy, the second you got the chance. If your father were still here, he wouldn’t have let that happen, but now that he’s gone…-”

He pauses again, and after hurling over laughing, stands back up straight again as the laugh dies all too abruptly. So you stand up from your seat, the corner of your lip curling over as you notice just why he’s gone silent.

By now the tea is slowly getting cold but you don’t care much for it as you stand tall, hands held together before you in a formal manner.

“The person who betrayed him…” His eyes narrow. “Who was it?”

“Oh uncle,” you mock that title, mirth in your eyes, “I think you know exactly where that answer lies.”

Danger.

Something screams danger when his gaze darkens in realization.

And yet you seem to only be attracted to danger as it is the only thing you’ve ever gotten used to seeing every day. The danger of being born as a mafia heir, married to a mafia powerhouse, spiraled into a hellhole you cannot ever seem to escape so you run towards it.

Directly into the fire.

Into the danger.

Provoking your enemies, knowing exactly just what their reactions will be, because danger seems to be the one thing in your life that will never leave and abandon you out of nowhere. The only thing you can forever trust to catch you were you to fall blindly into it.

And blindly you fall, trusting it to come.

And comes it goes, directly your way.

Never disappointing.

Never disappointing.

Namjoon called you reckless and for the first time in forever, you might have to agree with him. Because being reckless means not caring for the consequences to come after committing a rash action. The reckless ones do not care what happens to them, they live off adrenaline, they run towards the fire when everyone else runs away.

Towards the danger despite knowing there will always be a chance they may not survive. Unheeding, stubborn, thoughtless, careless, negligent, imprudent. Unwise, unwary, incautious, hasty.

A fool.

A fool.

A fool.

But misguided and left on their own. Lonely, abandoned, hurt, isolated, rejected, forsaken. An outcast and unloved, a disappointment and broken.

Broken.

A broken little soul whose heart lies empty with a hole pierced through the middle.

You are reckless. You are broken.

And broken things do not know how to save themselves, they only know the warmth of the fire. That is the only thing they can rely on.

So you stay within his vicinity, within Karl’s reach, watching, simply standing there, keeping still, as if keeping vigil. Like you’re just waiting, just expecting for something, anything, the inevitable, to happen. And when it comes in the form of a harsh, harsh slap across the face that has your body turning over to the side and having to hold onto the table to keep your balance, you can’t even say that you are surprised.

It feels like being in the presence of your father all over again, in the face of danger, of a manipulator, of a gaslighter, of an abuser.

He returns hard and so vividly in the form of anger, in the form of a ghost, a spirit whom you see standing right behind Karl. He stands as still as ever, hands held behind his back, simply watching.

Watching.

While you stand before him in front of a man he’s using to command orders over him. Using violence through others because father never raises his hands, father never puts in the effort or strength or power into physical forms. He does it through others, he commands through others, he hurts through others.

Watching until he’s satisfied.

But he’s never satisfied. He’s never satisfied.

And on your end, you can do nothing but accept it all willingly.

There is nothing else you can do, there is nothing else that can be done. It is like being in his presence all over again. Yeonjun, the Reapers behind you, standing still, told to not do a thing, to not move an inch, and your father behind the violence, keeping silent with a deadly gaze.

You return to the past.

You see him.

He’s right there.

And Karl raises his hand again.

💜💜💜

a thousand springs

— summary: when poison threatens to take your life away from them, they only wish they had more time with you

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, poly!au, historical!au, royalty!au

— word count: 11.4k

— warnings: poison consumption, talks of death, reader gains illness from poison that has the potential to take her life, injuries, hurt and comfort (happy ending)

— rec music: listened to jimin & ha sung woon - with you while writing this

You stare at the budding flowers in the garden, feeling a sense of serene as the gentle breeze allows you to get a better wisp of the smell, melting your tense shoulders almost instantly. 

“They’re almost ready to be picked,” you say into the comfortable silence as you crouch down to gently reach out to one of them as if giving attention to a child. You’re so soft, so gentle with them, and when you turn over to look up at the man behind you, the tender smile on your face softens his hardened features. “Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”

“Seems that way,” he says, and although you both know he has no clue about the flowers at hand, the way you giggle in response to his short answer makes him smile discreetly. 

“It has a strong sense of calm to them,” you say as you return your focus back to the blooming flowers. “I think it’d help Namjoon a lot. Ah and speaking of, Jimin and Taehyung should be back soon, shouldn't they? I assume Taehyung will probably go on a ramble about how annoying his missions are so I should prepare some calming tea for him, and Jimin will probably knock out the second he returns. By the way, Jungkook,” he falls at your every attention the second you call for him, holding a hand out to help you up without a word. “Seokjin mentioned he was running out of ink the other day, do you think you could accompany me to town later?”

He nods at your request while you continue rambling.

“Maybe I should get him a new brush as well. The man really loves his writings so he’s probably quite particular about what sort of brush he uses. Maybe I should ask him about it. But then again I sort of want it to be a surprise. He’d like that wouldn’t he?” Jungkook nods again. “Then, do you think you can help me?” 

He nods once more, already preparing to leave when you stop him by the tug of his sleeve. 

He turns around, wondering why you had suddenly stopped him when you reached up to pick something from his hair. 

“Looks like Spring is faring well,” you say with a sweet giggle as you reveal the pink petal plucked from his hair. “When the castle calms, we should go on an outing to enjoy the cherry blossoms.”

“If it’s what you want, I’ll mention it to Namjoon.”

“Hey now, you’re making it sound like I’m the only one who wants this. It’s high time you relax as well, Jungkook, enjoy yourself a little more.” When he shakes his head, you sigh with a small pout. “You boys are always running all over the place, never taking a moment to calm down. One day you’re going to regret taking up my offer. Can’t you do it? For me?”

“My missions..”

You frown when he says so, an upset expression forming upon your features. “Argh, you’re always so busy, aren’t you? If it wasn't for the fact that you have to remain as my bodyguard, I know you would have definitely gone with Jimin and Taehyung. It kind of breaks my heart thinking about it.”

“I…”

Seeing the conflicted gaze in his eyes, you laugh aloud. “Just kidding. Of course, I know your missions take priority so don't worry too much about what I just said. I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll—”

“M-My lady! Master Jungkook!”

The two of you turn at the retainer whose feet carry loud and heavy. 

“Come now, Wen, why’re you in such a h—”

“Master Taehyung is heavily injured!”

The second he announces those words, you can physically feel your heart dropping and Jungkook, who had been silent all this time, quickly hurries to carry you so that when he takes off, it only takes a few moments before you arrive at the main hall where a heavily injured Taehyung is carried with support from Jimin.

Your breath hitches at the sight of their bloody bodies, both hands coming up to cover your lips as you stand there, trembling.

“Tae—”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses your concern with a cold remark as Yoongi and Hoseok rush to the scene in order to help the two ninjas.

You walk over, brows arching with distress. “Clearly not.”

“I’m talking fine, aren’t I?”

God, why does he always have to be stubborn when it comes to his injuries? Still, you know you can’t do much except give the man his space as he gets carried off to his chambers with the doctor following right behind.

At times like this, you know you’ll just have to wait it out until the fatigue hits him and he doesn’t have any more energy to get upset about the mission. It doesn’t hide the fact that it hurts seeing him in such a state, however.

“Y/N, will you help Jimin?” Hoseok asks with a hand on your shoulder when you stood there, looking after Taehyung’s disappearing body.

You turn around at the older man, brows pressing together as you take a look at Jimin. He’s injured as well, not as bad as Taehyung but injured still.

Once Jimin is settled in his private chambers, you get to tending through his wounds without a moment of rest, knowing that you’d rather keep yourself busy than fret over other things. Whatever happened during their mission, they’ll have to eventually report to Namjoon but for now, all is quiet as you sit before Jimin, the sun already down as you watch over his cuts and bruises.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence after a while and you feel a hand holding you under the ear in order to tilt your head up to look up at him. “Taehyung will be alright,” Jimin assures, a gentle yet transient smile resting on his face.

Your expression breaks slightly. “Why does he always have to be stubborn?”

“You know how Taehyung is.”

“I just wish he’d let me care for him during times like this.”

“He just doesn’t like you seeing him in his weakened state.” You frown when he says that, eyes looking down once more to return your focus back on wrapping Jimin’s arm.

“That stubborn brat,” you mumble under your breath, causing him to chuckle lightly when the doors slide open and Hoseok walks in. “How is he?” You’re quick to ask.

“He’s just fine. It took some time but his stubborn ass finally decided to rest,” Hoseok reports with a sigh as he finds a space on the floor beside the two of you. “Jungkook’s watching over him.”

“Does this mean the mission was a fail?” You turn to Jimin, concern filling your features.

He sends you an apprehensive look. “It’s too early to say. Namjoon will probably have me and Jungkook return to the scene to pick up after my and Taehyung’s work.”

“But you just returned injured and look at what happened to Taehyung.”

“This is to help the Clan, Y/N,” he reminds you solemnly and you sit there, not wanting to hear the truth. Seeing as the bandages are all wrapped securely on his arm, Jimin reaches up to gently stroke your hair. “Come on now, don’t give me that look. We’ll be fine.”

“But..”

“I know what to do now,” he assures. “We just foolishly fell into the enemy’s trap but I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“How can you be so sure…” You mutter, still refusing to accept this despite knowing it isn’t your place to voice out such an opinion. You may be the Lady of the Clan but even then, any details that have to do with the ninjas’ missions will always go deaf to your ears.

“Because we have you waiting for us back at home.” He states it so surely you almost fall for the smile Jimin sends you but you know better than that. After all, despite the many years you’ve spent with them, it still worries you to no end when they run off to do some dangerous task.

Your heart will never be settled as long as you are the wife of highly skilled warriors.

Hoseok takes your hand in your silence and gives you a gentle squeeze. “They’ll be fine,” he says gently and you know you can’t do much to refute that.

Days later, Jimin and Jungkook disappear without a trace, most likely off to the said mission.

You can feel it when Jungkook’s eyes are no longer on yours. After all, he always watches over you whether in person or somewhere hidden in the air, so when you can no longer feel a watchful gaze, that’s when you know he’s gone off to do a mission.

The castle has gotten busy ever since that night.

“Are you coming to bed soon?”

Namjoon keeps busy at his desk with his brush rushing through the stack of papers before him even as he answers you. “Head to bed first, alright? I’ll join you soon.”

You know that’s a lie because one time you woke up in the middle of the night and there he was still at his desk, busying away.

Upon your silence and unmoving body, Namjoon looks up with a rueful smile once he spots your frown. “If you’ve gotten that lonely sleeping on your own, why don’t you join Taehyung?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried? He kicked me out as always,” you say with a huff as you stand from the bed and crawl on over and sit yourself by his side, eyes scanning over the complicated papers he has to read and write. “Want some help?” You ask as you look up at your husband, the Lord of the Clan.

He chuckles lightly at your offer of assistance and brings his hand to ruffle your head. “You haven’t the slightest clue what’s written on these pages, do you?”

“If you teach me, I can play my part.”

“I’d love to do that,” he says, pausing, “on another day.” You frown. “Go on now, stop being stubborn and catch up on your rest.”

“You should listen to your own advice,” you say as you crawl away but only to show up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist with your chin plopped onto his shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I miss you,” you confess, nuzzling further into the cloth of his hanbok.

Namjoon says nothing to that and simply returns to his work, but from the corner of your eyes, you can see a small smile curled along his lips. He probably misses you too but has to unfortunately put his work before you.

That’s just what the head of the Clan has to do. Above all, throw his desires away to make sure things are okay in the Clan again. After all, Jimin and Jungkook are off busying themselves on a mission. He can’t slack off.

.

.

.

You take ahold of the brush at hand, brows furrowed in concentration as you stroke a finger upon the hair in order to get a feel of what Seokjin likes.

Hm.

How does one tell what’s a good brush and what isn’t? Jungkook was supposed to get the intel for you but now that he’s away on a mission, you have to take matters into your own hands. It’s hard though, you have to admit, because no matter how many times you brush your fingers over the hairs, you still have no idea what you’re looking for.

Perhaps the shop owner will have a better say in the field. You can just ask him instead. And besides, Seokjin’s probably a frequent visitor so they’d be likely to easily point out which brush it is that he likes best.

Yeah, you should do that.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You quickly put the brush back in its place before the doors slide open and Seokjin walks in, frowning slightly at the sight of you in his private chambers.

“I thought you enjoyed unexpected visitors,” you say as you stand to walk over to his side and help him carry a few scrolls in.

“You’re not exactly unexpected though.” 

You sigh when he says that. “Ah, by the way, I was planning on heading to town to pick up a few things so—”

“No.”

You blink at his quick reply. “Huh?”

“You’re not allowed out or go anywhere by yourself now that no one’s here to watch over you,” he states as he takes a seat before his desk. You place the scrolls down with a slight frown.

Duties, duties.

You’re basically stuck here now.

Ah, what good is being the Lady of a Clan when you can’t even go anywhere without an escort?

With your knees pressed up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them, cheek laying against your knees as you look out the open window upon the pretty cherry blossoms that stand just outside the doors. You know sitting like this isn’t very ladylike but for now, you don’t care as your eyes yearn for the outing you mentioned to Jungkook that one day.

Seems it won’t be happening this year either.

Soon enough the cherry blossoms will have all fallen and you’d be stuck watching them from the castle once more, unable to have the viewing and picnic you so yearned for ever since you were wed into the Clan.

“Don’t look like that.”

You turn back to Seokjin with a forced smile. “Like what?” The least you can do is pretend to not sulk over small things like this when they’re over here busy with castle work, just trying to maintain a good system.

You can’t be selfish.

Seokjin sighs knowingly and pauses in his readings in order to hold a hand out for you. “Come here.”

You don’t hesitate to walk on over and take a seat beside him, eyes eagerly looking up at the attention he’s finally giving you. He reaches a hand out to stroke your head, a gentle expression on his face. “Soon, things will calm down. Just wait a little longer, alright?”

Soon there will be no cherry blossoms to look at.

“I can wait as long as you’d like, don’t worry about me.” Still, you speak those words from the bottom of your heart, knowing that your selfish desires will only burden them. 

Seokjin understands your heart and frowns slightly because he knows he can’t fulfill them. “I’ll be alright,” you say, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

You take what you can get, smiling into the kiss.

.

.

.

A soft melody resounding into the silence of the night, Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound, knowing just who is playing such a beautiful melody.

His feet carry him towards the sound and there he finds you sitting on the veranda, playing the flute as you would whenever you can. Most nights you’ll play it for them when things are less busy, on other nights you’ll play it in the loneliness of the night, the sound of the flute keeping you company.

He watches you for some time, just standing there as the moonlight brightens your beauty, closed eyes, fingers lightly pressing on the holes of the flute ever so often, your lips blowing air into the wooden thing.

How long has it been since he’s sat in your presence and simply listened to you speak?

You must be so lonely now that everyone else has gotten so busy.

So he silently takes a few steps forward and takes a seat right beside you. The music falters a little when you feel his presence but quickly picks back up when you realize that it’s him. Yoongi lays his head on your lap and rests his eyes, feeling the fatigue finally get to him now that he’s taken the time to settle down after such a busy day.

When the music dies down and you put the flute down beside you, he feels your fingers run through his hair in a gentle manner.

“Finally taking up my offer to rest, huh?”

Yoongi holds a hand out, flexing his fingers until you give him your hand. “There’s still so much to do but at least Jimin and Jungkook are returning soon.”

You gasp at the news. “Really?”

Yoongi nods. “We got a letter this afternoon.”

“That’s great news! I can finally go into town now.”

“Ah, is that what you’re excited about?”

You giggle at his lazy response. “I previously asked Jungkook to accompany me to town in order to grab a present for Seokjin and now that I think about it, maybe I should pick some things up for Taehyung as well. He’s still as stubborn as ever, refusing to allow me into his private chambers. Isn’t it rather unfortunate? Why does he choose to remain cooped up in his bed when he could be roaming outside, looking at the pretty cherry blossoms? Soon enough, the petals will all have fallen and we’ll have to wait a whole other year to see them again.”

When you look down at the man on your lap, you frown slightly at his closed eyes, breath slowing down. “Hey, are you even listening?”

“Mmn,” he hums. “Keep talking, I like listening to your voice.”

“Oh.” Well, you hadn’t expected that response.

“It’s soft and gentle, like a spring breeze. Though in honesty, nothing compares to having you here like this, not even your voice.” He looks up at you with a gentle squeeze to your hand, smiling softly.

“I…” You can feel your cheeks slightly heating up. “I like your voice too…” You say, gently, and Yoongi chuckles lightly as he sits up.

He puts a hand beside you, resting his body against it as he crowds you in, and before long, you feel his soft lips on yours.

Yoongi’s kisses are sweet and gentle, unlike his more serious and stern side whenever he’s on the battlefield or speaking during war council. This is the hidden and soft side only you and the guys get to witness, no one else.

You feel so lucky.

.

.

.

“Okay, this time, maybe he won’t kick me out.” You steady yourself with a tray of tea prepared in your hands, prepping yourself up because you know it takes effort to try and get Taehyung to open up. How many days has it been since he returned with his injuries? It’s been some time now so maybe he’s feeling a bit friendly today?

One can only hope.

Taehyung’s a stubborn man who doesn’t like to show you his weaknesses, getting rather upset and angry if you were to push his buttons because he’d rather be upfront and strong when he’s around you.

It’s dumb when you think about it but what can you do? He’s too stubborn to listen to your reassuring words otherwise.

As you round down the hall, a glimpse of a familiar structure catches your sight and your eyes are quick to brighten.

“Taehyung!” 

He’s strolling down the hall, his formal wear a bit exposing his chest due to the bandages that wraps all around his right arm. He rests them inside his clothes, letting them prop up against where the belt of his formal wear resides, and when he looks up at your call, Taehyung’s hard expression doesn’t change.

“Taehyung, I have tea for—”

He turns to slide open his door and walks right in, slamming it closed without a word spoken to you.

Your heart falls at his refusal, tray almost tipping over if you hadn’t been quick to keep a steady grip on it before it can do so.

Another day, another rejection.

Maybe if you talk to Namjoon, he can get the man to open up, but Namjoon’s a pretty busy man as well. Hoseok, perhaps? No, everyone’s busy.

As you turn around to make your way back to the kitchen, you feel dejected at the events of things.

Guess I’ll just have to wait until Jimin and Jungkook returns. Which shouldn’t be long.

Your lips press together into a tight smile as you give yourself a nod, confident things will work out again soon. Taehyung will be bound to show his presence once Jimin and Jungkook returns, he’d have no other choice.

You can bombard him then.

You giggle thinking about it when someone calls your name.

“Lady Y/N!”

You turn at the call to find a familiar retainer walking up to you.

“Good afternoon, Chan. How can I help you?” You greet with a smile.

“Well actually, I’m here to give you this,” he says, presenting a small jar of something green and herbal.

“What is it?” You ask as you take the jar, eyes scanning over the dried leaves. “Tea?”

“Yes, they have quite the strong calming effect.”

“Really?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

“Yes. They’re quite rare to attain right now, my lady, but I know you love to seep tea ever so often so I’m sure it’d do you well to keep them rather than them staying with me.”

“No way, they’re that rare?” You gasp before looking back at him. “Thanks so much, Chan! I’ll be sure to make good use of them.”

“Of course, my lady.”

With that, you’re off to the kitchen in the annex that gives you personal space.

You set the tray you had in hand down onto a table before examining the jar you were just given.

Tea that has such a strong calming effect is hard to come by these days so you’re thankful to be given some and quickly get to work to begin seeping the tea leaves. While keeping your hands busy, a soft smile falls on your face as you think of your boys.

It’ll help them during this time and the other two ninjas will return soon so that’ll be even better.

You take a look outside at the gardens to find a cherry blossom tree just a few yards away, hoping and praying that maybe you will have time this year.

Just maybe.

“Surely this year will be the year,” you mumble to yourself as the tea is ready and take a small sniff of the content.

It smells like the forest, calm and crisp.

You take a sip of the drink and your eyes brighten at the taste.

“Great! Now to send it over to Namjoon and the rest.” You take a stand when all of a sudden, your head falls heavy and your vision begins to blur.

Huh?

“...mrmh.”

You try to speak but your throat constricts, each breath harder than the last as it begins to burn and the tray falls from your grasp.

Why can’t you speak?

Unable to get a grasp on what has been done to you, you rush to the inner kitchen where the maids and cooks should be, panic settling in your chest as your heart beats rapidly in ways you’ve never felt before. Something strange is happening to you, something painful, but you know you can’t just collapse right now, not before it’s too late.

Someone…help.

As soon as you hear the voices of the maids and cooks, the world pitches over one last time and your vision goes black. Needles of pain lance your arm, then your cheeks, and it is not until you feel the cold on them that you know you must have fallen.

Desperately, you try to move your arm, to drag yourself across the ground despite the fearsome cold that is overtaking you.

Namjoon!

But no matter how you scream for him in your mind, no words come out, and soon enough, you lose your consciousness completely.

.

.

.

“Hm?” Namjoon’s head jerks to the side. For a moment, it almost seemed as if someone was calling for him but the only ones in his chambers are Jungkook and Jimin who just returned from their mission, bowing forward formally with their lips sealed.

“Namjoon?” Jimin looks up, confused upon his Lord’s silence.

“Nothing, I just…I thought I heard something,” he says, brows furrowed in confusion.

Must’ve been the wind.

However, just as he is about to address the two ninjas once more, frantic footsteps race closer and closer to his door. Jungkook stands up to slide open the door, a frown on his face.

“Milord..! It’s Lady Y/N! She..she’s collapsed!!”

“What?!”

In an instant, the three of them are out the door like a shot, reports and business all thrown out the door as the only thing that falls on their minds are of you.

.

.

.

“I have done what I can for her, but now all we can do is wait and see what happens.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Taehyung stands with rage as he takes the collar of the doctor with the one hand that seems to still be working well. “Do something, dammit!”

The doctor trembles in fear. “I-I’m sorry, milord, but she is in a very precarious position. There is nothing I can do.”

“Taehyung, calm down, getting angry isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Dammit!” He curses under his breath at Seokjin’s words, throwing the doctor off balance with a forceful push before falling to the floor as he stares at your stilled body resting on the bed.

Seokjin turns to the doctor, sighing as he helps the man up. “Thank you for your help, you may leave now.”

“Y-Yes milord.” He doesn’t hesitate to rush out the door, almost bumping into the three who had just walked in.

Namjoon’s brows furrow at the sight of the doctor rushing away, knowing what he had just heard, and almost freezes at the sight of you lying in your bedding. 

Your breath is shallow, or perhaps already gone, he cannot tell, with eyes sealed tight. You aren’t struggling nor do you look like you’re in pain, you’re just…lying there as still as a corpse, barely clinging onto life at best.

“What…happened..?”

“The maids found her unconscious near the entrance to your private annex,” Yoongi reports, a furrow in his brows. “She was brewing up some tea, probably meant to send it to one of us.”

“Tea?” Jimin asks, confused.

“It appears the culprit slipped poison of some sort, masquerading as a rare herb of sorts,” Hoseok states as he hands Namjoon the jar of the dried leaves.

Jungkook settles himself at your bedside, his eyes wavering as his hands tremble at the sight of you.

“What did the doctor mean by Y/N being in a precarious position?” Namjoon asks as he watches you from where he stands.

“Whether she lives or dies…is entirely up to Y/N herself.”

Silence fills the room as they can do nothing but stare at your still body.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Jungkook lays his hand against your cheek. He timidly strokes it, his strength gone at the feel of your skin, clammy and cold as if the blood has already frozen your veins. In spite of it all, the maknae breathes warmth onto his palms and presses them to your face, desperate to keep you warm.

.

.

.

Ah, so cold.

Why is it so cold?

You shudder at the feeling, teeth chattering uncontrollably as you hug yourself to seek some sort of warmth. Usually, your hanboks are enough to keep you warm but why aren’t they doing their job right now? Seokjin always made sure your hanboks are warm and filled when the weather gets a little too cold, always overprotective and looking out for your well-being.

Even during his busy times, he won’t ever forget to look after you.

But why is it so cold today? And so dark?

Something flies past you, a breeze, a warm breeze against your cheek, so you lean towards it, gasping lightly at the warmth.

It leaves for a moment then returns warmer than before, then slowly turns cold once more before the process repeats again and again.

No, you want it to stay. To keep you warm.

You take a step forward, reaching out, but nothing changes, so you run towards the warmth, desperate in your steps, until finally, something bright and white shines through the darkness of your consciousness.

“Y/N.” Someone calls you.

Huh..?

“Y/N.” It calls again.

The voice comes closer and closer as you run towards it, towards the light, until finally, you recognize its uncanny gentleness.

Jungkook..!

You open your mouth to answer him but for some reason, your voice refuses to leave your throat. All you can feel is the warmth against your cheeks, which you desperately cling to with little else you can do.

Why does he sound so sad? You can’t have that, you need to get back to him.

In an instant, your consciousness floods back, as if that warmth has yanked your body forcefully from the freezing water.

“..Y/N…”

When your eyes flutter open, right in front of them is Jungkook, his face close, terror and concern marking his features.

Jungkook? What’s wrong?

Your heart aches so keenly at the sight and as you open your mouth to call for him, nothing comes out, nothing but its shallow breaths opening and closing.

You can’t speak.

Terror fills you as you reach out to place your hand over Jungkook’s warm ones, and in an instant, his once lost and distant eyes come back to life as they greet you.

“Y/N!” He pounces forward in a gasp, the loudest he’s ever been with you, alerting the rest of the men in the room.

“Someone call the doctor,” you hear Namjoon command and feel a shudder through your veins.

Cold, you want to say, but nothing comes out.

Yet they seem to hear you as you feel Seokjin tuck the blankets up to your neck, a gentle hand coming to graze your cheek.

“You’re alright now, you’ll be alright,” he whispers as if casting a spell.

Someone takes your hands, breathing warm air into them, while someone else brings warmth with a touch on your forehead.

Ah, so warm.

.

.

.

It was the poison that took your voice away and unfortunately it won’t end there. According to the doctor, soon enough through the passing days, you’ll lose strength in your arms and legs as well, forcing you to remain at your bedside until eventually, the poison will take your heart if the antidote doesn’t run through the veins in due time.

You have a chance to meet death and you’ll do it in a slow, painful manner.

“Here, ah.”

Right beside you, Hoseok sits with a bowl of porridge in his hand, a spoon ready to feed you. You let him do the job, opening your mouth to take the food in before turning to your paper and brush to begin writing something down.

“I haven’t lost the strength in my arms yet. I can feed my own self.”

“Don’t be stubborn and let me take care of you.” You pout slightly and he laughs. “Seeing you like this almost reminds me of Taehyung. If only you could speak,” he says with a rueful smile as he reaches up to stroke your hair.

Not hearing your voice must be really hard on them as well.

Your brush dances over the paper again.

“Don’t you have a Clan to help run? You don’t have to stay here to help me, I’m fine on my own.”

“Y/N.”

“And if you’re that worried, my maids can help aid me so—”

“I’m not leaving your side,” he states, taking your brush away before you can write any further. When you’re forced to look up at him, Hoseok’s eyes are filled with concern and worry. “We’ll find the antidote,” he promises. “We’ll find it and things will return to normal again so please…please don’t push me away.”

You realize that he’s scared. Scared to lose you.

Chan had already taken his own life before anyone could get to him so your report on the matter didn’t matter so much. Currently, the castle is looking into his background, trying to find any link to anything, and although you’re not really sure what’s going on, something tells you they’re coming up empty.

Which is why every day, someone new stays at your side, taking care of you. They can afford one less person in the castle if it means staying by your side.

You’re doing okay for now but soon enough, they know you’ll lose the strength from the rest of your body if they can’t find the antidote.

They have to work fast.

.

.

.

A few soft knocks and in just a few seconds, the door slides open to reveal Taehyung in his usual attire.

He looks down at you with an emotionless expression. “What’re you doing walking around?” He frowns your way and when you beckon to the tea at hand, Taehyung lets out a sigh and walks back into his room.

This time he doesn’t close the door behind him. This time he doesn’t push you away.

A bit sad it has to resort to this but you take what you can get and follow him into the room, foot sliding the door closed before you walk on over to settle by his bedside. You set the tray down, seeping the tea in silence, before handing him a cup.

Taehyung takes it without a word, his stare piercing as he stares at you even while bringing the cup up to his lips.

“I didn’t poison it.” You bring a paper up as if it had already been prepared beforehand and he scoffs.

“I don’t take you as one brave enough to do that to me,” he mutters and you frown in response as if asking ‘what is that supposed to mean.’ He laughs inwardly to himself as he leans back into his bedding, body pressed up to the wall so that he’s still sitting as he drinks his tea.

You crawl forward to his side and he watches from the corner of his eyes as your eyes wander at the bandages on his arm.

A hand reaches forward, not before you look up to ask for permission. When he says nothing in response, you take that as permission and press a gentle hand on his injured arm. There is a furrow in your brows as you examine his arm, lips pouting slightly before you take something from your hanbok and show him another prepared paper at hand.

“Does it hurt?”

He shrugs. “It’s useless now.” Your eyes bulge out when he calmly sets the cup back down without saying anything further until you tug at his sleeve, begging him to speak more. Taehyung sighs. “I’ve permanently broken it so I can’t use it anymore. It still hurts a bit but the pain’s subsiding as if it’s no longer part of the body anymore.”

You sit there remaining in silence — it’s the only thing you can do — but when he observes your expression, it twists with pain and he sighs as he sits up straight once more, hand reaching out to wipe away the tears that have fallen.

“This is why I didn’t want you around. I knew you’d cry seeing me in pain.” You cry more and he frowns. “I know, I know, but I was going to eventually let you in once my body decided to no longer associate this arm as a part of them.”

“Stupid,” he sees your lips form out those words and chuckles ruefully.

“I get it, I get it. Now stop your crying.” Taehyung wraps his one arm around your figure and pulls you in close so that you can let your tears soak his bare chest. He gently strokes your hair as you cry silently into his chest until you can no longer cry and the tears have worn you out.

You lay there in his arms, body rested up against him, eyes falling a bit sleepy. Even then you keep your eyes open because you don’t want to sleep just yet. With your brush and paper off to the side, you use your hand to write invisible letters upon his chest.

“Stupid.”

He laughs. “I know, you’ve already told me that.”

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“If that’s all you’re gonna write, I’ll kick you out.”

You look up at him with a disbelief stare, mouth gaped open before you huff and turn to leave his arms. If he doesn’t want you here then you’ll give him just that.

“Wait– oh come on, I was kidding,” the ninja says as he pulls you back in with his overpowering strength. You can’t compete with that, how can you ever? “I promise I won’t kick you out so just stay a little longer, alright? It was getting a bit lonely here.”

You look back up at him with a narrowed gaze before opening your mouth. “Stupid.”

Taehyung sighs and you press a hand to your mouth as your shoulders tremble.

He watches the smile on your face, missing the way it was so easy to hear your giggles resounding into the air. But right now he can hear nothing. Nothing at all. All that is are your pleasant smile, a hand over your mouth, and trembling shoulders.

No sound of music to his ears.

He misses your voice but he doesn’t say it, knowing you have it tougher than he does.

.

.

.

In the silence of the night, Yoongi lays on your lap, eyes closed as nothing is heard except for the cicadas. You sit on the veranda, his warm overcoat draped over your shoulders as you play a soft tune on the flute.

Your voice may have been taken away from you but that doesn’t mean you can’t blow wind into the flute. So you play it softly for Yoongi, knowing just how much it relaxes him.

“Y/N.” When you hear him call for you, you stop playing in order to look down at him, a questioning tilt to your head. Yoongi opens his eyes, staring at nothing before him as you run your hand through his hair. “Are you afraid?” He asks and you pause in your ministrations for a moment.

Admittedly, you give him a nod before returning to play with his hair.

“Right, of course you are.” When he says that, his field of vision suddenly turns dark as you lean forward to press a kiss on his forehead, as if telling him that it’s alright because you trust them. You’re afraid because it’s a natural thing to feel during grave times like this, but you trust them nonetheless.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night and you smile gently, mouthing the words back to him.

.

.

.

Jungkook watches you steadily from the back as you stroll through your garden, a soft smile on your face with a spring in your steps. You haven’t lost strength there just yet but he still worries as he keeps his eyes on you, ready to catch you if you were to fall at any moment.

When you turn around to catch his attention, he’s at your side in a split second. It’s gotten so quiet between the two of you now that you can’t talk. Jungkook’s a quiet man, after all, and you always filled up the silence but even though your voice doesn’t work as it normally would, the things you do as if you can still speak makes up for the silence.

You point down at a bush of flowers, mouthing out “ready” for him so he hunches over at the flowers, taking out the pruning shears that you weren’t allowed to hold because they didn’t want you to accidentally get hurt.

You crouch down beside him as you point to one of the flowers and he gets ready to cut the flowers but not before you tug at him to grab his attention.

When Jungkook looks over, you have a paper with instructions written on how to properly cut a flower off its stem. He reads them thoroughly, turning to the flowers to put them into practice with you guiding him along the way.

One after another, he cuts and cuts until you have seven flowers in your hands.

When he sees that bright smile on your face as you hand him one of the flowers, Jungkook knows he’s done a good job.

“For you,”  you mouth out the words and he takes it in his hand.

It’s beautiful, pretty, though not as pretty as the smile you give him. So these flowers were grown for them. You took care of them so diligently that he always wondered why. When he brings the flower up to his nose and looks at you with a soft expression, he wishes he could hear your laughter resonating through the gardens.

.

.

.

As you and Jungkook walk through the halls of the castle with you holding onto the six remaining flowers, you hear loud voices coming from somewhere down the hall.

Familiar voices.

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to march there yourself? You’re still healing, Taehyung.”

Brows furrowed, you look up at Jungkook who meets your eyes, his expression hard to read but you both know the voice belongs to Namjoon.

“I’m doing this for Y/N!”

“You’re doing this for yourself! Stop being selfish and stand down. If you march there now, you’re bound to fall into the enemies’ trap once more. Think logically, Taehyung.”

“Do you think we have time to think? We’re running out of time.”

“I know but if you just barge right in there, we’re not only going to be losing one of us but the rest of the Clan as well. I can’t risk that.”

Suddenly the doors slide open and Taehyung, who had opened the door abruptly, freezes at the sight of you who’s standing right in the doorway and silence fill the room.

Face still marked with anger, Taehyung lets out a noise of frustration before walking out the doors and down the hall, not caring to calm down even as you stand there, watching after him.

You look up at Jungkook who gives you a nod and heads down the hall to catch up to the older man.

“Y/N.” You look back into the room as Namjoon calls your name, his face filled with fatigue and exhaustion but even still, he flashes you a pressed smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You walk into the room, sliding the doors closed as Namjoon settles himself back behind his desk, eyes concentrating on the tasks at hand and as you watch him, you can feel your heart aching at the sight of his weariness.

He looks so tired yet he’s still doing all that he can to find your antidote.

When he feels your presence beside him, he puts the paper down to turn your way. “What is it?” He asks and when he finds the flowers you have in hand, Namjoon gives you a small smile. “Are those for us?”

You nod.

“How pretty,” he says when you hand him one. “They’re the flowers you grew in the garden, aren’t they?” You nod. “I hope Jungkook helped you cut them and you didn’t do it yourself.” Another nod and he puts a hand on your head, ruffling it gently. “That’s my good girl.”

You wish you can help him in other ways but this is the only thing you can do for him as your heart aches, him not being able to keep the conversation up while you sit there frowning, hating the fact that you can’t do anything more.

.

.

.

War is coming soon.

They’ve found the story behind who Chan was associated with and it links right back to the mission the three maknaes had been dealing with for some time now. The same people who took Taehyung’s arm away poisoned you.

As you sit there in your room, you stare at your hands which seem to hurt a bit whenever you would flex them. Soon enough you won’t be able to hold a brush and write to them. Soon enough you won’t be able to walk.

But for now, you can still do things moderately.

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon gazes down at you with concern as he takes the hand you had been flexing. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head in response, putting on a smile for them.

“You can tell us if something’s wrong, Y/N,” Jimin says as he pulls up from your other side, his eyes kind and gentle.

You’re scared.

You’re scared because they have to leave soon, off to the battlefield in hopes of taking that antidote from the enemy, but who’s to say how much time you have left?

War doesn’t take a day or two. It takes weeks, months, but do you have the time?

When you take the brush into your hand, ready to write down your every worry, your every concern, you suddenly find yourself stopping.

You can’t.

If you tell them, they’ll worry and it’ll cause them more grief than relief.

“Y/N?”

“What’s wrong?”

The more you worry, the more concerned Namjoon and Jimin look, even reaching up to stroke your hair.

I’m scared, you want to say but don’t have the heart to. You hate the fact that you can’t speak but take their hands and meet their gazes.

“What is it?” Namjoon prompts.

They look so exhausted.

You take up your brush again, intending to tell them that you’re alright, that they don’t have to worry too much, but that in itself is a lie and even though you don’t want to tell them the truth about your feelings, you also know that you can’t lie.

They don’t deserve that.

But you also don’t wish to tell them all it is that is in your heart. You’re scared, terrified, and time only seems to be speeding up. Even your own hands are slowly beginning to lose their strength and soon enough you’ll be forced to remain lying in bed.

Your body feels so weak.

The brush refuses to move, leaving a dark blot of ink in the center of the paper.

“If you have something to say to us, it’s alright, just tell us,” Namjoon whispers against your hair, pressing his hands against your shoulders. Even that gesture alone threatens to tear you apart so you set your brush down, and look at him again. “Mmn. What is it?”

His voice sounds so gentle that whatever it is that’s happening seems like the stuff of nightmares, fading into obscure nothingness.

You wish you could fix all of this, that time would reverse back and you hadn’t been foolish enough to take the dried tea leaves Chan had given you. You wish him and Taehyung weren’t fighting, you wish you could make it all better.

It’s your duty as their lover to make sure the relationship is alright again once a fight breaks out between any of them. But, even when you open your mouth to speak, the words refuse to come.

You’re only growing weaker and weaker by the day and you’re scared to lose any of them. What if they don’t get the antidote in time and it strains their relationship? You don’t wish any of that to happen.

“Namjoon.” You want to call out his name, to make it all better, but there is nothing but silence. “Namjoon…”

Gently, his hand moves to rest against your cheek as Jimin takes your brush to set it down, then Namjoon lightly kisses you.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know what you want to tell me, Y/N.”

You feel Jimin’s hand on your other cheek and nuzzle into his warmth. They embrace you so tightly it almost hurts but if it means being in their arms is the last place you’ll be when your eyes close forever, you’d rather it hurt forever.

.

.

.

War council ends today with a tense atmosphere as the retainers all leave the main hall with grim expressions on their faces.

What remains of the room are your seven boys and just as Taehyung is about to get up and leave, you walk right in to steal their attention.

“Y/N? What is it? Do you need something?” Seokjin asks when they all look your way.

You present them a piece of paper, flashing it in front of you with a smile.

“I want to see the cherry blossoms,” it states. They notice the change in the font, lines a little more squiggly than usual, some of the letters faint, some more bold, and when they find your features marked with such a serene and calm expression, how can they say no to that?

.

.

.

“Careful, you might trip.” You look up at Taehyung with a slight pout and he rolls his eyes. “If you run off and fall on your knees, I’m not picking your ass up.”

“It’s not like you can with your one—”

“Oh, you wanna bet?”

You quickly shake your head with a silent laugh and instead take his hand despite his words, running off further towards the cherry blossoms which stand in a straight line, creating a beautiful path of pink petals right in between. The brightness in your face shines as you let the wind flow through your hair, loving the feel of the cherry blossoms against you.

When you shudder slightly at the cold, Namjoon has an overcoat draped over your shoulders, his hand gentle as he strokes your head.

“Don’t be too reckless now.”

You nod happily at his orders and quickly rush off elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone in silence.

“Seems someone’s finally found her smile. Do you really love the cherry blossoms that much?” Hoseok asks as he takes a petal from your hair while you look down, writing something despite struggling a bit.

“I love you spending time with you all more than anything.”

“Ah, so that’s what this was about?”

“The cherry blossoms are pretty though.”

“Of course. Though not as pretty as you.”

Your face flushes with red as you glare up at him. “Hoseok…” You word out and he laughs.

A harsh breeze passes by, causing a flutter to the pages of your paper so you hurry to press a hand on them, making sure they don’t fly away, but in doing so forget the overcoat over your shoulders as it flies off into the wind.

Oh!

You gasp inaudibly and turn on your heels to reach out and grab for it before it can get even further when suddenly you feel pain in your legs.

“Y/N?”

In the next moment, you fall on your knees, papers and brush falling into the wind, too weak in the legs to remain standing and in a split second, they’re right at your side.

“Y/N-”

You hunch over in pain as tears prick the corners of your eyes, a sharp needling pain stabbing at your legs. Terror crawls over them at the sight of your silent tears crying inaudibly. 

Seokjin picks you up without effort and as they begin to head back with you in his arms, in spite of the pain jabbing into your legs, when you lay against the strength of your oldest lover, you can feel his body trembling in fear.

.

.

.

Namjoon sits behind his desk, elbows propped over as his hands intertwined right in between, his leg jerking with anxiety.

They have yet to hear news of your wakening. You’re still breathing, still alive, but for how much longer? There are only two days left before they have to march to the front and it’s a relief, it’s a relief because soon he’ll have the antidote in hand but even then, he knows it will take some time before he finds it.

War doesn’t last for a few days after all, so once he leaves, will he even be able to see your eyes again before he returns? And what if it’s too late by the time he returns? What happens then?

He’ll be marching off to battle without having to see your precious eyes again.

Maybe he could hold it out for a few days, wait for you to open your eyes again.

No. He can’t.

He can’t delay it any further because he has to get the antidote.

The antidote.

“I’ll stay.”

Namjoon looks up at the unexpected voice, his eyes widening a bit as he stares at Taehyung who had just spoken those words. “..What?”

“My arm will hold us back anyway, so I might as well take over the duty of protecting the castle,” he states, eyes falling off to the side. “I haven’t trained hard enough with one arm to walk into the battlefield ready so just let me stay. It’ll be better than leaving Y/N alone.”

Namjoon hesitates for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the younger one nods. In his eyes, there are regrets of not getting himself out there to train harder but even then, he falls determined to remain defending the castle and staying by your side while the rest of them marches off to the battlefield, fighting upfront to obtain the antidote to cure you.

Seeing that determination in his gaze, Namjoon nods. “Alright.”

.

.

.

When you wake up again, there is no one but Taehyung in the room, his back leaning against the wall as his head turns to the side, eyes mindlessly looking out the window. It’s a gentle breeze but still, you shudder and he’s quick to look back with widening eyes.

“You’re finally awake,” he breathes as if he had been holding his breath for some time now. When Taehyung walks over to your side with worry marking his features as he tugs the blanket more up your neck, you wonder how long you’ve been unconscious to make him look like that. “How do you feel? Are you alright? Do your legs hurt?”

You shake your head lightly but frown when you realize you can’t feel them nor can you feel your hands.

You can’t move them.

“What is it?” He asks when you look as if you’re about to burst into tears at any second.

“Hands,” you mouth, and with a solemn expression, Taehyung takes your hand from underneath the blanket to give it a gentle squeeze.

You sense the touch it just the tiniest bit.

Where are the others? You want to ask as you look around, frowning at the lack of presence in the room. Are they busy preparing for the war? But then why is Taehyung here in his usual wear without looking the slightest bit busy?

“They’ve already marched to battle,” he answers your unspoken question, causing your head to quickly jerk back with a flash of alarm in your eyes. “You’ve been unconscious for a week, Y/N. They wanted to stay until you opened your eyes but…your antidote takes priority.”

No.

They’ve gone.

They left without saying goodbye.

You didn’t get to say goodbye nor did you send them off as you usually would. What if something happens to you? What if they’re too late? You’ll never get to see them again and the last time you ever saw them was during the cherry blossom viewing where you had collapsed and Seokjin carried you back home.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t look like that.” You feel Taehyung’s gentle hand against your cheek. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see them again,” he says, a promise made to the wind. In spite of how afraid he is, he still smiles for you, a gentle smile so soft and sweet you can hardly tell it’s Taehyung for a moment.

Why do you look like you’re about to cry?

You want to reach out, to hold his face, to comfort him, but your arms won’t move a muscle and as you struggle against your inner thoughts, Taehyung wipes an unknowing tear that had fallen from your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Everything will be okay.”

Terror wants to take control of you but Taehyung doesn’t let it. It’s as if he knows, as if he understands your frustration to want to help him, so he pries open the blankets and crawls in. It takes some effort because of his lost arm but eventually, he wraps his arm around you, a gentle kiss pressing to your forehead.

“You don’t have to cry anymore, alright? I’m right here.”

You look up at him as he wipes away the tears that are blurring your vision. You press a kiss to his collarbones then lean up, wanting to kiss him.

Taehyung chuckles lightly because you can’t reach up so he leans in to give you the honors.

It’s a gentle and sweet kiss, one you wish you shared with the rest of them before they left.

.

.

.

“Why am I getting a report that you aren’t taking your meals?” When Taehyung walks in through the doors, his expression is hard and grave. You can sense the anger in them but turn from his glare to look off to the side. 

He takes a moment, breathing in slowly before letting it out in order to calm his nerves.

“Y/N,” he sighs, and takes the porridge from the maid’s hand. She excuses herself without a word, closing the door behind her as she leaves, while Taehyung sits himself on your bedside, a frown in his expression. “Do you not have an appetite? Is that why?”

When you don’t answer him, he puts the bowl down to take your hand. “Look at me, please. Please, Y/N.”

With the desperation in his voice, you turn to look at him, pouting slightly while he looks at you with fear in his eyes. “Tell me what I can do for you,” he says, voice barely audible as he squeezes your hand, his head lowered. “How can I help, Y/N? What can I do? If you won’t take your meals, I…how is your body going to heal?”

It won’t heal, you want to say, not without the antidote.

“Please Y/N…please eat. Please? For me? The boys are out there fighting to get your antidote. Don’t you want to welcome them back with a smile?” He sounds so desperate, filled with so much pain as he watches you from where he sits, hating himself for not being able to do anything for you.

Your heart aches as you look at him, knowing just how much he’s blaming himself, and it’s during times like this when you wish you had a voice the most. You want to reach out and tell him that none of this is his fault, that he has no control over this, but you can’t.

You can’t.

So you let him help you up, let him press your body up to lean against his chest. He’s careful when he holds you, letting you use his body for support, as he reaches out to grab the bowl of porridge.

It’s hard because he has only one useful arm but he makes it work. He rests the bowl on his dead arm, steadying it carefully so that it doesn’t fall, while using his other one to hold the spoon.

“Eat for me, yeah?”

You open your mouth to let the spoon in, tears falling from your eyes, your heart aching, and despite how much it hurts to see him do this all for you, you open your mouth for all the spoons he feeds you until there is nothing left in the bowl.

When you finally finish, the bowl clatters to the floor and he lets out a sigh, letting his arm press against the floor behind him so that he can lean his weight onto it.

You rest there in his arms as he lets you listen to the beat of his heart. In the silence of the room, Taehyung presses a kiss to your head before resting his cheek right there. It is only until you fall asleep again does he let his own tears fall.

He doesn’t remember doing this for quite some time now. When was the last time he cried? Probably years ago, before he even met you. It’s been so easy to let his walls build up, sealing his heart from others, shutting you out even when you thought you were already in.

He wishes he hadn’t pushed you away so easily. He wishes he showed you more care, more love.

Why is it during the most crucial moments when people realize their mistakes all too late?

He wishes he had more time.

.

.

.

You struggle in your sleep once more, a retainer rushing to the private of his chambers where he sat behind his desk, looking over some documents. The second his attention is called in concern about you, Taehyung forgets the papers and rushes to your side.

You awake the castle once more in your wake of suffering and as you whimper and cry in your silence, he can do nothing but watch as the doctor tends to you, doing all that he can to at least postpone some of your sufferings.

When are the others going to be back?

.

.

.

“Feeling a little better now?” Once the room clears out and it’s no one but the two of you, Taehyung sits by your bedside once more, stroking your hair gently as he looks down at you with dark bags under his eyes.

You nod tiredly from where you lay and open your mouth to speak. He reads your lips so easily now.

“Is there any letter?” You ask and he reaches into his pocket to take out a piece of folded paper.

“We haven’t gotten any personal letters from anyone but the messenger stated that things seem to be going well for the time being. Maybe we’ll hear from them soon.”

“I want to see the cherry blossoms.”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Sorry darling, but they’re gone now. Summer’s in just a few weeks.”

Summer? Already? It feels just like yesterday the eight of you were walking under the cherry blossoms.

“Next year?”

He puts the letter back into his pocket to take your hand. “Yeah,” he squeezes, his voice soft and tender, “let’s go see them next year and the year after that, and the year after that. Until you tire of the cherry blossoms.”

“I won’t tire of them.” You shake your head and he chuckles.

“Then, we’ll keep seeing the cherry blossoms until a thousand more Springs to come.”

You nod in response, a sleepy smile resting on your face.

“Go to sleep, you deserve it after tonight.” You feel his hand stroking your cheek when your consciousness slips away.

.

.

.

“Y/N. A letter’s come.”

Your eyes light up. “Letter?”

“That’s right. So eat well, alright? And then we can read it together.”

You never get to read that letter, because halfway through your meal, you’re throwing up the contents, body trembling hard as your face scrunches up in the same, familiar pain he’s seen on your face during so many nights.

.

.

.

We’re coming home.

Taehyung reads the same words over and over again and the more he reads it, the more his vision blurs to keep him from reading any further. 

You’ve lost consciousness once more, having yet to wake even after three days. He had wanted to wait to read the letter with you but being as you have yet to open your eyes, he decided to go on to read it by himself. 

The words Namjoon displays should have relieved him, to release the tensions that have been weighing heavily on his shoulders ever since the moment you had first lost consciousness, ever since they left him alone to care for you. Working around the castle all on his own while taking care of you is a hard task but he doesn't regret ever offering himself to Namjoon when they knew they needed someone to stay at the castle for you. 

They’re coming back, finally, meaning they've gotten ahold of the antidote. He sits there in your room, the windows closed because you’ve gotten much too sensitive to the cold. It’s Summer but even then, your body temperature doesn't get any better. Your breath is shallow, barely there as you lay in your bedding, body as still as a corpse, almost like the first time they saw you when you had initially taken in the poison. 

But unlike that time, it almost feels as if you really won’t open your eyes again, as if he’s losing you, as if he’s already lost you. 

.

.

.

“Milord! They’re back!”

With a glance your way, Taehyung takes a moment before rushing out the doors, his feet taking him faster than he’s ever run before.

Once he’s right at the entrance of the castle gate, he can see the horses from afar, running straight for him with Namjoon leading the herd.

Ah. They’re back.

They’re actually, finally back. 

“Taehyung!”

“Taehyung! How’s Y—”

At the sight of the ninja’s tears, they freeze up in an instant, breath held against their throats, hearts as frozen as ice.

“Go,” he whispers. “Go before it’s too late.” 

They rush to your room where you lie, eyes closed, body frozen in place with a moving beat. At the sight of you, they can instantly tell why Taehyung was so frightened he had cried before them, something he’s never done unless the situation was actually grave. 

But you’re still breathing.

Still breathing.

Namjoon takes the antidote out and carefully spills the blue liquid in between your lips. Your face is as cold as ice when he touches you, trying his best to not let the antidote pour out. 

“You’re going to be okay now, my love. You’re going to be okay,” he speaks in prayers, a wish made unto the heavens.

They hope they aren't too late.

.

.

.

“Y/N?”

You feel a gentle hand grazing your cheek, one that you haven’t felt in a while. It’s warm and tender, filled with strokes of love as you feel your eyes slowly opening. Once your vision comes into view, you find Namjoon right above you, his brows arched with relief and anguish all the same.

Why are you crying? You want to ask.

“Hey, little darling, finally awake now, are you?” Jimin plays with your hair, his fingers gentle upon your head.

They’re back, you realize, but they don’t seem to be in their armors so maybe it took some time for your body to gain consciousness once more? The last thing you remember was throwing up the meal the maids had prepared for you, happily eating for some time because you wanted to read the letter that came for you and Taehyung.

You never got to read the letter.

How many days has it been since you lost consciousness?

It doesn’t really matter now does it? Because you’re awake now and feel a bit lighter on your body.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asks you moments later once they give the two of you space so that he can examine you.

You open your mouth to try and speak but still, nothing comes out.

“Seems it will take some time for you to regain your strength, my lady. Can you feel your legs?” You shake your head. “How about your hands?” You shake your head again.

“Has the antidote not worked?” Yoongi asks, his voice filled with worry.

“It’s working well, my lord. Her face is already regaining color as you can see, but you will have to give it some time before the lady can move again.”

“And her voice?”

“It may return with time. For now, make sure she takes her medicine and rests well. She will have to do some physical training on her body once it regains its strength but make sure she doesn’t push herself too much. Unfortunately, her body will remain weaker than before as a lasting side effect of the poison but that shouldn’t hinder her from doing her usual activities. Just make sure she doesn’t ask too much of herself.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Hear that?” Seokjin turns to you when the doctor leaves, his smile soft. “You’re okay now, love.”

You’re okay now.

You’re okay.

“Were you scared? You must’ve been so scared. But everything’s alright now so there’s no need to worry about anything else.”

“Welcome home,” you mouth and their expressions soften.

“Mmn. We’re home.”

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the abuser and the bystander

— summary: it hurts just as much knowing someone could have stopped it all but chose to stand by and watch instead

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.4k

— warnings: violence, mentions of physical abuse, use of poison, mentions of child labor and child abuse, manipulation, gaslighting

— part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

— masterpost

He levels a glare your way but even still, furrows his brows with confusion by your words. “What?”

“It’s alright, Hoseok, let him go,” you tell the man beside you with a soft pat against his arm. Hoseok hesitates to do so, a glare leveled at Jummy but he gives in to your words nonetheless, letting go but not without force and causing Jummy to go into a fit of coughs.

You grin with amusement. “Hey, Jummy,” with a hand trailing onto his shoulder to wrap itself around and hold the nape of his neck, you lean forward so close to his ears in order to fall out of earshot from everyone but Jummy. “You know what’s funny?” Hoseok’s brows furrow at the sight, not liking how close you are to the man and the fact that he can’t hear a thing you’re saying. “My father never once laid his hands on me.”

“That’s because that bastard always had others do the job for him.”

“That’s right, and you were one of those people, weren’t you? So don’t you think it would be right for me to do the same?” You take a step back, a smirk held his way.

“...What?”

“Yuna.”

The second you speak the name, Yuna is at your side in an instant. No one knows where she came from but here she is without falter, dressed in complete black from head to toe. 

“For all the times you were stood on the side, unable to do anything as Jummy did what he wanted to do with me, you can seek your revenge now.” If Yuna had eyes, you’re sure they would have darkened at your commands, or perhaps they would have filled with thrill and excitement. She grabs ahold of her two sai blades which lied on each side of her belt, spinning them well along her fingers before holding onto them with a tight grip, and even without eyes, Jummy feels his body running cold upon Yuna’s attention.

“Y-you really think you can come here and take over my party? All the guests here are—”

“No one’s on your side, Jummy, haven’t you realized that?” Upon your words, he looks around frantically for help but no one steps up. “If they were to come after me, it’d be their revenge for me taking Daejung’s head but in your case, only you can protect yourself now.”

“I-I have my own people to—”

A bullet from a high distance shoots a man down when he tries to come to his boss’s aid and you send the man a smile as the party falls into an uproar upon Dasom’s signal.

“Well then, good luck, Jummy.”

With that, you turn your back on him and begin to walk away as your people take over.

“He wasn’t the one you were after was he?” Hoseok asks, his feet carrying him to walk along your side.

You shrug. “Hey Hoseok, could I perhaps give you the honor to get rid of a man for me? I think you’d quite enjoy the job.”

“Who?” He doesn’t ask why, just ready at your command and you take ahold of your gun amidst the chaos, pointing it at a man from afar and without hesitation, shoot right upon the thigh of his leg.

“That man,” you say. “Looks familiar, doesn’t he?”

A limp in his foot, the other leg now taken from you once more, and Hoseok gets his gun ready. “What about you?” He asks, wondering what your plans were.

“Don’t worry about that, I can take care of myself.” With that, you’re taking off on your feet, disappearing into the crowd with your long black dress and heels clicking away.

Hoseok stands there watching you for some time before he takes off in the opposite direction, trusting you in your plans. “Jimin, Yoongi,” he calls into the intercom.

In just a split second, the younger man’s voice comes in. “Hyung.”

“Get to Y/N,” he orders as he catches sight of the limping man trying to escape. “Something tells me this is bigger than it seems.”

There’s no way you just put on a show just for the fun of it. Jummy wasn’t your target. Perhaps he was indeed someone who did you wrong but you’re letting one of your members kill him off for you, telling him that perhaps all of this was just to divert the crowds’ attention from somewhere else.

Somewhere you’re heading towards.

“She’s heading for her real target.”

.

.

.

“Hello there, Ying.”

You slide in through the window like a slithering snake and situate yourself against the windowsill with a leg crossed over the over, revealing more of your bare legs.

Ying pauses in his tracks as he looks over at the call of his name, his expression appearing calm as he turns to face you and gives you his full attention. Adjusting the collars on his sleeves, two of his men who fall on each side of him stands tall and intimidating, while he observes you.

“Missed me?” You chirp with an easy-going grin.

“Y/N,” he says, voice low and calm, unlike his hot-headed younger brother. “You seem to be doing well.”

“Well, taking over the throne has certainly given me much more freedom than my father would ever have,” you say, shrugging lightly. From the corner of your eyes, you notice two familiar silhouettes just outside your viewpoint, blind to the men before you.

“You have my brother cornered, who knew you were such a smart woman behind that silent gaze. Are you upset at him for what he’s done to you?”

“Oh Ying, if I was that upset, I would have taken care of him myself, no? Jummy’s just a waste of my time.”

His brows crease slightly. “Then why are you here? To sign an alliance with me?”

You laugh aloud. “Men are so, so foolish, aren’t they?” You jump from the windowsill, approaching him, and even as his two men step up on guard against you, you ignore them to continue your way towards Ying who remains standing still with no will to move away. “Did you know that the abuser and the ones who simply decide to just watch the abuser and do nothing about it are just as bad?”

“So what? You’re upset I never stepped in to help you?”

“If I was really that weakhearted, would I have survived for this long?” You ask him, a raise in your brow. “You pretend to be the good brother, the knight in shining armor, and if I wasn’t such a smart little girl, I would have totally fallen for your charms and believed you were on my side all along. But in reality, there’s something much darker about you, isn’t there?”

“What are you saying?” He looks down at you with furrowed brows as you play with his tie. “Was my kindness to you not enough?”

“Kindness?” You snicker. “You don’t actually believe offering me a few sweet words and tending to my wounds after your brother’s abuse would have been enough to swoon me, did you?”

“Just clench your teeth and the next time it happens, it’ll all be over before you know it.” You remain silent as he speaks those words, head lowered while he sits before you, carefully looking over your body and tending to the wounds himself. Even though he has his own men in the room, Ying always offered to do the treating himself.

But this isn’t kindness.

Not when he’s always there to watch Jummy hurt you and do nothing about it, simply letting his younger brother do his thing, and then deciding to step in once it seems the ignorant brat is done taking his anger out.

This isn’t kindness. He’s just trying to sweeten you up, have you believing he’s on your side when he’s really not.

You’re just a puppet to his eyes, someone who can help him in the future, someone who can give him power and authority. He wants to use you, to pretend to be a good man, and perhaps even make you fall in love with him in order to claim the Reaper’s seat.

You’re much too scarred to ever trust a man that easily again but if he wants to pretend then you’ll pretend as well.

“Why don’t you do anything, Ying?” You ask him in a small voice, pretending to slowly break. “You’re the older brother, can’t you…can’t you stop Jummy? It hurts, Ying.”

“I know, but it won’t be too long until all of this is over, alright? Just hold on a little longer.”

Just hold on a little longer. It’ll be over soon.

That’s what he always tells you. How long has it been since the first time he’s spoken those words? Perhaps a year now. Yet he still thinks he can sway you with such words.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to talk to Jummy, alright?” When you don’t give him an answer, you feel his large palm touch you on the top of your head. And then, he leaves along with his men, leaving you all to yourself once more.

When you look up to stare at his back, the glare that levels his way, even after the door closes, doesn’t ever leave.

You rip the bandage he wrapped around you, calling unto your boys. “Mingyu. Yeonjun.”

They come in a split second.

“Be a good girl and head back home, Y/N. You’ve already gotten Jummy.”

He takes you to be a fool, he always had from the very moment he laid eyes on you. The Reaper had always been quite a force and because of that, you were a tool used by your father who wished to exploit you in all the ways possible.

When Ying found that out, he decided to fake his way into your heart and pretend to care when no one else did, having no idea of your own loyal members who were already doing their jobs well.

Yet unlike him who only stood by to watch willingly and feign his kindness afterward, your Reapers always had a hard time holding themselves back when watching you get hurt by your father’s men. Unlike him who had the power to stop them at any time, your Reapers were forced to stand back, knowing that one wrong move would have your secrets all spilled out and everyone would end up dead while you suffer the consequences.

There is a difference between being a willing bystander while knowing you have the power to do something, and being a bystander who has no power and no choice but to stand and watch, knowing that if they were to do something, it would result in serious consequence.

Ying is different from your people.

He feigns his kindness and you hate fake people.

“If you want me to go home, get these men out of the way.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You feign a pout. “Do you see me as a threat, Ying? Aren’t I just a hopeless little girl who needs a knight in shining armor in your eyes? What can a small girl like me do to you? Look,” you slither your hands up and around his neck, causing his men to quickly act but are immediately held back by Jimin and Yoongi. You ignore them to remain staring into Ying’s eyes. “My hands can barely wrap themselves around you. If I were to choke you, you’d have me dead in a split second.”

Ying remains still as he meets your cunning gaze, face only deciding to inch closer to him.

“Ah but my sweet Ying wouldn’t ever hurt me, would he? You promised after all.” You laugh at the memories before looking over to the side when more of his men seem to gather around. Jimin and Yoongi step up to deal with them while you keep yourself busy with the boss at hand. “Hey Ying, maybe you could call off your men, yeah?”

“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Hm…am I?”

“Do you want an apology? For all the times I stood by and didn’t stop my brother from hurting you? Is that what you want?”

How foolish. “No, I just want you dead,” you admit casually as if speaking about the weather. “You have to realize, Ying, that it hurts just as much knowing someone could have stopped it all but chose to stand by and watch instead.”

Namjoon was the sole reason the relationship fell and when you needed the rest of them to step up, they did absolutely nothing. He was in power, sure, a man in a position higher than any of you, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have done anything for you.

You wonder what was going on in their heads when Namjoon spoke insults at you, when you were so desperate to save the relationship, pretending everything was okay while trying your best to keep everything stable with everyone else. You wonder what they were thinking when you fell silent upon their ignorance, upon your desperation.

You wonder why they never did anything to stop Namjoon. You wonder why they never tried to help you.

You wonder why they just stood there, doing nothing.

“You’re just as bad as the abuser.”

As you speak those words, something so small yet so sharp stabs against the nape of his neck. Ying’s face crumbles with pain, his body lurching forward, falling to his knees, but his struggle doesn’t last long because just seconds later, his heavy body has dropped to the floor, left lifeless.

You’ve learned from Daejung that simple poison won’t work on the men you’re trying to rid of. They’ll put up a fight, hurt you, and cause you more damage than you’ve already gotten from them. So you had Yeonjun look into creating a much more lethal poison that wouldn’t give you any trouble.

It worked.

“Y/N—” You ignore Yoongi to throw a dagger at the man who ran up from behind him.

“Come on, Yoongi, you know better than to get distracted during a battle.” With that, the three of you come together to deal with the rest of the men who’re too stubborn to leave you be, especially after their boss had just fallen.

They should know when to retreat, especially when you give them no mercy and claw away at them, stabbing blades after blades, shooting each of them down with your gun. You don’t care for the messes you’re making, you welcome it.

After all, disorder is much better than perfection.

And soon enough, everyone’s body has fallen dead on the floor with you standing right in the middle.

When the two men look at you, they see nothing but a blank stare, emotionless and filled with an empty void. You don’t cower before the blood, you don’t even attempt to rid of the stench and stain which now decorates your body and dress.

Instead, you stand there almost as lifeless as the bodies on the floor.

When you look up at them, there is nothing but silence.

You’re just as bad as the abuser, they remember you say and for a moment it almost seems to be directed at them.

They still remember those days as clear as the sun. How could they not? They once loved you so dearly and now a part of you will always doubt that love.

“Feel better, alright?” Those were the words Jimin remembers saying to you at the beginning of it all, as if it was that simple, as if it was that easy.

But it wasn’t and when you needed them the most, they left you all alone.

It’s a long silence but eventually, you’re the first to break the stillness of the room, stepping towards Ying’s body to search for something in his pockets.

“We’re not done yet,” you say.

“We aren’t?”

“I didn’t come here just to kill a few people.” A black card flashes in your hand from Ying’s pocket and you begin to walk off. “Follow me,” you say, and after sharing a glance at one another, the two of them follow along.

You lead them to the end of the hallway where an old elevator resides and step right on in. Once there, you scan the black card upon an empty space, causing a small beeping sound to then resound and the ground floor button appears.

Jimin’s brows furrow. “What is this?”

“Ying had a secret he kept from everyone. Something I found out a year into knowing him so I had my team investigate his suspicious act and low and behold,” the doors open to show a dark underground, “there was something quite dark and disgusting about the man.”

“What’d you find out?”

You fall silent without an answer to Yoongi’s question, simply stepping forward to walk into the darkness. They follow without a word, knowing they’d find out the truth themselves. It grows colder and colder by the second the further the three of you walk through the undergrounds, until eventually you make a right and a few guards that have been posted are seen.

They’re on the floor for some reason, however, lifeless, and you guess someone must have already gotten here before you.

Your brows furrow at the sight until the dungeon of cages appears and a man stands in the middle of the hallway, holding onto a child while more surround him at his feet.

“Children…?” Yoongi whispers in disbelief at the sight of frail little children who’re now out of the cages, clothes shriveled up and ragged, their bodies dirty, faces heavy with fatigue as if they’ve been forced to do harsh labor.

You don’t pay attention to them even as a few gasps upon your entrance, your eyes are simply trained at the man in the middle, feet quickening until you’re up kicking the dirt from the ground and jumping right in to land a forceful kick on his stomach, causing him to fly backward and hit the wall behind him.

You walk forward to grab the little boy out of his hand, a glare leveled his way.

“What are you doing hanging around him willingly?” You ask the boy in your arms, brows furrowed with anger.

“B-but he—”

Before he can say another word, you inject a needle poison into the man’s neck and the children gasp at the sight of a man killed right before their eyes.

“Y/N what the hell?” There’s no way you just did that in front of the children.

You ignore the two men to turn back to the children as you set the boy down and crouch to their level, eyes stern and hard while they lower their heads, cowering in fear.

“Well?” You prompt, demanding an answer out of them.

Sunoo, the little boy, speaks up. “He…he was nice, milady.”

“So what? Are you going to trust every nice adult out there?” You accuse, voice hard and scary despite the fact that you aren’t yelling. You never yell, not once have they ever heard you yell, but when you’re like this, you’re much more scary than all the other adults that have laid their hands on them.

“Tell me, Poya,” you turn to the little girl closest to you and she straightens up upon your call, “when has that man ever helped you?”

“He…” She hesitates. “He would give us extra food when we behaved well and..and he would treat our wounds when we got hurt.”

“And did he ever do anything else?”

“Huh?” She looks up, confused.

“When Ying would come in, yell at you, accuse you all of something you hadn’t done, criticize you for your lack of your strength, your lack of worth, and when the others would harm you when you did one small thing wrong, tell me, did he ever step up then?”

“W-well…”

“That’s because he couldn’t!”

“Yeah! He couldn’t.”

Your eyes harden and they quickly fall silent once more. “That man may not have authority over Ying but he had enough authority to stop the rest of the guards from hurting you, didn’t he? Look at you.” You take one of their hands, turning the palm over to find it swollen. “Pain.” You point to a little boy’s knee. “Cuts.” You shove the sleeves of a little girl to reveal her arm. “Wounds and bruises. You see this? Did he ever stop them from hurting you? And who are you to know the medicine he treated you with will help you rather than cause you more pain? He only stepped in when there were no eyes on him, only smiled at you and gave you sweet words when everyone else was gone or asleep. Do you really believe this to be kindness?”

They don’t say a thing but you know your words are getting to them.

They’re understanding.

“He didn’t abuse you but he stood there doing nothing and only faked his kindness after you were hurt,” you point out with a hard stare. “There is a difference between not being able to do anything out of your control and doing nothing at all when you know you could’ve helped. This isn’t kindness.”

You see the way their shoulders tense up, how their bodies begin to tremble, a teardrop falling to the floor from a lowered head, how they’re completely silent and still, knowing that showing you any form of weakness or tears will only cause you to push them away.

Because Sir Mingyu said crying in front of you will only burden you. You hate tears, you hate weaknesses, you hate love. So they have to be careful around you.

They have to be careful if they want to remain by your side.

“Why were you late?” Sunoo asks, his voice cracking a bit but he clears his throat afterward, looking up to feign bravery and strength. When he looks at you, there is no ounce of hatred in his eyes, no level of accusatory leveled your way. Just the burden of a child who should not have lived through the things he did. Yet he puts you first and foremost. “Are you okay now?”

“Do not concern yourself with me,” you deadpan in an emotionless tone. “Worry about your own well-being first if anything.”

“You got hurt,” Vinni says, tugging at the blood stains on your dress.

“Was it difficult coming here?” Lily asks, her hand coming up to take your hand as she stares at the cut you grazed on your arm.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Right, of course. My lady fought well,” she says, her brows furrowing slightly when her little hands come up to gently stroke around the blood of the cut, making sure she doesn’t accidentally touch the cut.

You notice her concern. “Seems blood doesn’t scare you anymore.”

“I’ve gotten braver!” She declares proudly when she looks up at you with a bright smile.

“Have you now.”

“Mmh!” She nods happily. “It’s because we knew you were coming soon, milady. We were right to believe in you.”

You frown. “What did I say about believing in people so easily? Even I can betray you one day. What would happen if I were to never show up? Would you still believe in me until the day of your death?”

“Well…” She hesitates, unsure of what to say upon your interrogation. Even in front of the children, you remain hard-headed, unwavering, but even then they were never afraid of you. You’re not like the rest of the adults, after all. Even behind that cold gaze, you’re kind. “I just knew,” she whispers, “I knew you wouldn’t abandon us.”

Because just like them, you were once a lost little child who had no one to rely on, hating the evils of the adults, not knowing who to trust and who to keep your guard up against.

Just like them, you were hurt plenty by the people around you.

Seeing the small little tears in their eyes which they do so well to hold in for your sake, you know just how strong they’ve been.

“You did well,” you speak into the silence, “all of you.”

The way their eyes brighten, the way their lips curl up upon such simple words are almost enough to let the tears flow but they keep strong, blinking them away, hiding them into their arms when some of them can’t keep it in.

“Where will we go now, milady? What will happen to us now?” Sunoo asks, his eyes filled with worry as he looks up at you with his big rounded eyes.

When you stand back up, their eyes follow you like you’re the alpha of the wolf pack, looking at you for guidance, for instructions. “You said you believe me, right? So heed by those words and just worry about yourself. I will take care of everything.”

.

.

.

“Mingyu! Sir Mingyu!”

“Miss Somi!”

Dasom’s face cringes with discomfort as she eyes the second in command with disgust. “Why the hell are they calling me that? They picked it up from you, you bastard.”

“Hey, mind your language,” he whispers to her ear. “Also it’ll do you well to look more kindly in front of the children.”

She tsks while Mingyu turns his attention back to the children, crouching before them with a friendly smile.

“Looks like you haven’t eaten in some time,” he observes as he stares at their skinny little bodies. “Did you get your shots from Yeonjun yet? Have you gotten treated?”

“Yep! That’s why we’re here otherwise Lady Y/N will get angry.”

Seeing their apprehensive expression upon that, Mingyu narrows his gaze as he tilts his head to the side. “Hm, looks like you’ve already made her angry though.”

They pout upon the reminder, head lowered with shame. “She scolded us,” Poya admits and Mingyu laughs aloud.

“Of course she did. She wouldn’t be Y/N if she doesn’t get angry that easily. She’s a real demon, you know. One time I—”

Dasom hits the back of his head without hesitation. “If boss hears you, I wouldn’t hesitate to volunteer to kill you myself.”

“Why’re you always so mean to me?” He cries.

.

.

.

“What are you planning to do with the kids now that you’ve rescued them?” You look up at the sound of Hoseok’s voice as he takes a seat beside you where you sit on the stairs of the building, eyes staring mindlessly at the empty streets before you. “You’re not thinking of sending them away to some orphanage, are you?”

You scoff a little at the question. “I’m not that cruel, Hoseok. Anyone who came into this business because of the orphanages is proof they don’t treat kids well.” He’s a living proof of it and he knows you understand that. “I’ve built an academy for them about two years ago, before the plan to rescue them took place today,” you say, eyes returning to stare at the street. “A few of my people outside the mafia will be in charge of it, making sure they get their education, their meals, and live in a safe environment.”

“For a moment there I almost thought you’d take them in yourself.”

“Ha, and bring them in deeper with what this world has to offer?” You laugh at the thought before your expression hardens. “They don’t deserve this kind of life, they’ve already been through enough.”

Almost everyone who’s joined the mafia has gone through the process at a young age, the rest of them an exception. After all, it’s always been a wiser decision to train their people when they’re still young and striving with ambition. It’s easier to instill loyalty into them, easier to break them.

Hoseok can still remember his time so vividly as if he was living it yesterday. He’ll never forget it.

When he looks your way, the sight of your hand touching the cheek where Jummy had hit you catches his attention.

“Looks like it does hurt after all,” he observes, a slight furrow in his brows. He remembers the slap well, how it echoed into the silence of the room, how you just simply let him do that. You provoked him on purpose, wanting a reaction out of him, and received a slap in return. You let him slap you.

“Well,” you say with a shrug, “whether I like to admit it or not, a slap will always hurt.”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You knew that provoking him would give you a slap in return,” he says. “Being as you had history with him, he’s probably laid his hands on you multiple times before.”

“Probably.”

Feeling a rush of ire running through his veins, Hoseok just can’t seem to read you. “Why do you say that so calmly? Shouldn’t you be more upset?”

You laugh a little at his question, not taking this seriously at all and it makes him mad. “Hoseok, if I got upset and let every little thing get to me, do you really think I’d be where I am now?”

“Still—”

“My goal wasn’t him in the first place, it was Ying. Yuna was the one who wanted to hurt him. She carries my emotions.”

He looks at you for a moment, thinking, wondering, and when you turn your head towards him upon his silence, you feel Hoseok’s hand placed against your cheek. The stinging sensation is still there, you can feel it, and when Hoseok touches your cheek, the coldness from the night breeze begins to warm.

You frown. “What are you doing?”

“Do you not feel anything anymore?” When you try to run away, Hoseok doesn’t let you and instead asks a question, softly, and something that had been hidden in your memories surfaces.

“Why aren’t you getting angry? He did something to you, Y/N, so don’t you feel anything?” Hoseok was so angry, so upset, and for a second you remember almost seeing his eyes watery with tears. He was feeling all these emotions for you, all for you.

“Hoseok…I..I-I’m okay, so—”

“You’re not okay and you know it,” he emphasizes, brows furrowed heavily as he runs his hands through his hair, frustrated. You watch him for some time, unable to say anything, not sure of what it is that you should say, so you stand there, silent, while he paces through the room back and forth, staring at the watch on his wrist as if trying to see when the rest of them would return.

“Hoseok…”

He lets out a heavy sigh and turns back to you, shoulders falling with defeat. “Were you scared?” He asks, softly. “You were scared, weren’t you?”

You don’t give him a reply but Hoseok knows. Hoseok always knows. And when he opens his arms out for you, you don’t hesitate to run into them, engulfing yourself in his warm embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he says against your hair. “I’m not upset at you, it’s just…I wish you’d get upset too.”

“But…what if you don’t like me because of that?”

“Why would I not like you because of that?” He asks, sincerely confused. “It’s human emotions, it’s natural. Just like I don’t like getting sad but you still welcome me either way.”

“It’s…similar to that?”

“Mmn.” He leans away just enough to see your face as he brings himself forward, forehead resting against yours. “I’ll love you despite everything so get mad, get upset, throw a tantrum, and I’ll still love you even then.”

“I do feel, Hoseok,” you tell him, hating the memories that have walked into your head. “I feel anger for all the people that have done me wrong, that’s why I’m going after them for revenge.”

“I feel like I should be proud but…that’s all you feel now, don’t you? Other than anger…there’s nothing but a void in your heart.”

You turn away from his hand, eyes stripping away from him to avoid those eyes that may become a weakness to you. “It’s better to not feel. In this way, I can go about my plans much more successfully. If I let my emotions get the best of me, I’ll just give myself weaknesses to shoulder and we can’t have that if I’m trying to get rid of all my enemies.”

“You’re doing risky business, Y/N.”

“From the minute we were associated with the mafia, everything became risky. In your case, at age nine.” You lost your only love and protection at age nine, Hoseok lost his innocence at age nine.

What a time to be alive.

“And you?”

You look over at him when he asks the question, a chuckle running through your throat. “I was born into this life, remember? Being a mafia heir isn’t an easy task, Hoseok. Whether you were someone who was loved dearly by your parents or not, this business will always serve dangerous for anyone that lives in it. Only ten years ago did I finally find the courage to embrace it. After all, you can’t ever escape the shadows once you step foot into it. That fantasy I lived in only proved to me that living a false life of freedom isn’t something that’s meant for me.”

That fantasy.

The false life of freedom.

You mean to say the three years you spent with them, don’t you? He knows it well and remembers how happy you were in spite of the fear and danger that surrounded your life. You had let them take care of you, trusted their words to never make you fall, to always be there to love and protect you. You gave them your trust and they destroyed that.

The person that you are now doesn’t strive to seek for that happiness anymore. It’s almost as if you’ve truly come to understand all it is that exists in this world of greed, power, and imprisonment. He lived like that for a long, long time, until he found his sanctuary.

You did too but it was forcefully taken away from you unlike him who still has the honor to keep it for his life.

When he looks at you, a burning ache shoots at his heart because he knows he could have saved you. He could have prevented so many things if he knew. 

If only he knew.

The boys were too cowardly to let him in on the knowing while you grew afraid, forcing you to a point where you had to leave. You were afraid to destroy his relationship with them, afraid to hold him back. You left for yourself and you left for him.

“Don’t look like that.” Your voice brings him back from his daze and he looks up, blinking. 

“Huh?”

“You’re blaming yourself again,” you say, head turning back to look at the streets before you. “It’ll do you no good to always put yourself in the blame. On the bright side, I’m much stronger than I was then.” The dagger in your hand spins effortlessly without falter, a skill that probably took years to master. He notices you’re more comfortable with the blade. Was it the first thing you touched when you decided to train?

It makes sense. After all, during your years of living with them, you were always afraid of going near a gun, the incident with the two bodyguards that died before you always made you tremble in your wake. So the question lies in how long it took you to find the courage to hold a gun.

“Who trained you?” He asks and you pause in your flickering. He wonders why. But before he can even speak up on it, your head turns his way again, a light smile on your face.

“A great master whom I also choose to go up against once day.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow. “It wasn’t your father?”

“Ah, father tried for a good time but then decided to hand me off to someone else. Someone stronger than him.” Someone who could break you down much easier than him. You laugh a little at that. “When it’s time to take him down, it’ll definitely be a fight. I might even die.”

“How can you joke around like that?”

“It’s not a joke, it’s the truth.” You say that but you’re still laughing, as if going up against danger is all that you seek, as if your life means nothing to you.

“So you don’t care if you die?” He asks, not liking the sound of that.

“So as long as I live, I’ll keep going after the people that have wronged me in the course of my lifetime.”

He wonders if those people include Bangtan; the other six. Namjoon. But something tells him in their case, you won’t be going after them with the intent to kill. After all, so far the people that have wronged you have all done something unforgivable — not that what Namjoon and the others did to you isn’t unforgivable but deep down, Hoseok still believes you to be someone who still holds kindness in her heart.

“I won’t go after Namjoon,” you assure as if reading his contemplating thoughts. “That’ll be an easy way to die, after all. And you might even hate me for that.”

So you care if he hates you?

“So you’re willing to die by anyone else’s hands?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying, if I die, I die. Who cares by who and who cares how.”

“But what about your Reapers?”

“What about them?”

“They hold a strong sense of loyalty to you,” he states. “At the split call of their names, they’re right next to you, heeding at your every word. Whatever you say is law. Whatever you do, they follow with no question. You don’t see that just anywhere, Y/N, not even in Bangtan. So don’t you think it’d affect them quite a bit were you to carelessly die by a nobody?”

You fall silent to that, hand continuing to play with the dagger at hand. The light reflects from it ever so often, whiffing sounds leaving as you flick about, spinning it, throwing it, catching it.

“I’ve trained them to not care about those sort of things,” you say after a moment. “They all know to prepare themselves if I were to die. Mingyu will take up the throne and things will go about as if I never existed in the first place.”

You let out an exaggerated yawn after speaking those careless words, arms stretching out before you. “Anyways, if I don’t wake up in ten minutes, call Mingyu for me, yeah?”

With that, you rest your head against the cold, hard railing of the stairs, eyes quick to close.

As Hoseok sits there watching you, he can only think of how wrong you are.

.

.

.

“Sir Mingyu, um…”

“Hey, what did I tell you about calling me a sir? Say hyung. Hyung. You’re making me feel old here, little man.”

“You are old.”

He glares up at Dasom’s retort. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

She brings her hands up in defeat. “Ah, you’re right. Anywhere without you is a much better place to be.”

“That Somi,” he mutters under his breath as she walks away casually, knowing not to put up a fight otherwise she will literally try to obliterate him. 

Learned that the hard way. 

“Anyways,” he turns to the little boy who had walked away from his friends to approach him, “what was it wanted to say, Sunoo?” 

Sunoo stands on his toes, eyes hesitant as he brings his hands forward, fiddling with them while his mouth opens and closes ever so often, as if what he wants to say is something he shouldn’t be saying but something he wants to say. 

Mingyu crouches down to his level, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. “Come on now, it’s not like you to be so hesitant. You want to ask me something, don’t you?”

“I…”

“Boss always says in all the seconds that pass through hesitation, it could be spent in being killed. That’s why you must never hesitate, no matter what it is. The seconds are always ticking after all. Time never slows down for anyone.”

Hearing those words, Sunoo is quick to straighten up as his head picks up, eyes a bit more strong than they were when he had initially approached the older man. Mingyu chuckles silently to himself, knowing anything that has to do with you, anyone will listen well.

You have everyone wrapped around your fingers, whether you know it or not.

“I..I want to become a Reaper, Mingyu hyung!”

For the first time in his life, Sunoo watches as the amused and easygoing expression on Mingyu’s face washes over in a second, replaced by something much colder and much more intimidating.

He physically shivers in fear.

“Sunoo…” 

Sunoo’s back straightens even more upon the call of his name as he feels the hand on his shoulder tighten. An unexplainable fear washes over him and he feels pricks of needles pinning through all of his back, legs, and feet. 

He can’t move.

“Never utter such words again, you got that?” He stands from his spot and turns around, quick to dismiss the conversation before it can continue any further but Sunoo stops him, not understanding.

“Why?” He asks, a tug on Mingyu’s blazer. “I want to protect Lady Y/N and the only way I can do that is—”

“If you really want to protect her, you’re better off staying away from us.”

“What…?” He stares at the older man in confusion, dreams and hopes ready to shatter but Sunoo holds on, not wanting to go down without a fight. You’ve protected him from so much and now that he wants to pay you back, he can’t do it in the way he knows how to?

Mingyu lets out a sigh when the kid doesn’t let go and turns back around, his expression still firm and grave, different from the man everyone knows him to be. “It’s a good thing you came to me first, otherwise boss would have killed you herself if she ever heard you say such words.”

“But—”

“Until you learn how to manipulate your emotions and hide them well, until you understand what it means to restrain yourself, to stand by and be a good bystander, only until then will you ever be worthy enough to serve along Y/N’s side.”

“A good…bystander?” What is that supposed to mean?

A kid will never understand, Mingyu knows, because kids who care for someone will always stand against the unjust and recklessly put their lives and everyone else’s lives in danger just for that person. Whether it’s their mother, their father, a friend, a lover, whoever it may be, they will not hesitate to scream and shout, begging and pleading, standing in the way of the unjust, stepping up and defending that one person.

He will be killed in an instant if he doesn’t understand control, if he doesn’t understand his role, and it will break him in more than one way.

“When you learn how to play that role, and know how to play it well, only then will I deem you worthy enough to stay by boss’s side.”

“Yo idiot, boss fell asleep on the stairs.”

Upon hearing Dasom come back with a finger pointed towards the outside, Mingyu looks up, face returning to his usual easygoing expression as he takes a stand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Honestly, why can’t she ever sleep during appropriate times and at appropriate places?”

While Mingyu complains under his breath as he’s walking away, Sunoo remains standing still in the place Mingyu left him, eyes shaking with a waver, his heart aching when he realizes he’s just gotten rejected.

He’s not worthy enough to protect you, to even stay by your side. He’s not worthy enough.

And whatever Mingyu meant, if he never figures that out, if he never learns how to be a good bystander, he will never be worthy enough to ever even approach you.

“Hey kid.” He slowly turns at Dasom’s call, head still in the clouds, hurt by what Mingyu had told him. Dasom lets out a heavy sigh as she pats his head. “The idiot’s right. The only way you can protect boss now is by staying away. She’ll never let you serve her otherwise.”

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the thorns of a rose

— summary: loyalty means to have full allegiance and faithfulness owned by a duty, a pledge, or a promise. and the reapers’ loyalty lies much deeper than that

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 5.6k

— warnings: mentions of breaking, emotional trauma, implied sexual harassment/abuse, implied forceful age-gap relationship (we're getting to more dark stuff here so please read at your own discretion, PLEASE)

— part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11

— masterpost

“They say she’s the actual Grim Reaper herself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s on a rampage, going around killing anyone who has done her wrong. She’s already taken out Gwon Daejung!”

“Grim reapers go around collecting souls, she’s out here trying to collect the heads of all her enemies!”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration.”

“That monster killed her own father to get the throne.”

“What if we’re next?”

Knock, knock, knock.

A click of the door opens and he stares in horror at the said Reaper who’s out to collect the heads of all her enemies. With a smirk plastered on her face, hands resting behind her, and a flicking shine from the scythe earrings she wears, he can feel the beat of his heart drumming hard against his chest.

“Hello there, Mr. Choi,” you greet with a sinister expression resting well on your face, “it seems death has just knocked on your door. Would you mind giving me the pleasure of taking your life?”

.

.

.

“Why did you call me, Namjoon? You do know that I’m a pretty busy woman, don’t you? I have heads to sever and hearts to stab out.”

“Seems you’ve become quite the bloodthirsty mobster.”

You shrug lightly at his comment, adjusting the black gloves in your hands that are tainted with blood. “Well, life is pretty cruel to women so there’s quite a lot of people whom I have to go after now that I have the power to do so.”

“This is why you killed your father off?” He asks, eyes narrowed at you who only seems to be paying attention to your gloves. “Now that I think about it, you say you’re out to kill all the people who have done you wrong. Was your father your first target in all of this?”

Your hands freeze in place and when you look up at him, those eyes of yours are as cold as a stone, showing no sign of weakness, no amount of emotions for him to try and see through your facade. He can’t read you.

“What are you talking about?” You feign a smile. “If my father never cared for me, would he have accepted me so easily when I returned home after divorcing you? Any sane mobster who’s thirsty for power would have never let that slide. Yet father welcomed me in very well with wide, open arms.”

“Fool,” you hear your father’s disdained voice in the back of your mind. 

“You’ve always been useless from the second you were born. For a moment I thought things were going well, finally made useful to me. But here you are, crawling right back and begging for forgiveness at the foot of your father. I told you to make yourself useful.”

No matter how foolish and stupid you were ten years ago, at least you understood what to do in order to keep the image of a happy family alive and well.

Divorcing Namjoon was one of the hardest decisions in your life but you were left with no other choice. Returning that ring, asking him for a divorce, even that moment of weakness where you asked them to give you a second chance, all of that was planned.

After all, divorcing Namjoon meant facing father’s wrath so you had to do it smartly, hence you asked him to sign a contract with you before you left, before the divorce was finalized. It was the only way you could get through to your father. He would be angry either way but at least then he didn’t have to worry about losing power.

Power was all father wanted after all, and you allowed him to keep that.

That contract saved you from potentially dying at your father’s very own hands.

“Open arms…”

You stare at Namjoon with a small, playful smirk, knowing he must be thinking back on his own father. “Envious?”

He sends you a glare and you look away with a shrug, amusement plastered on your face.

“Did all those silent vows of keeping each others’ secrets safe not matter after the divorce?”

“Of course it does!” You say at his suspicion on you. “You don’t really think I’m the type to go around spreading every traumatic story of you and the boys to the world just because we don’t care for each other anymore, do you?”

“I don’t know who you are anymore, Y/N.”

“Right,” you nod. “Let’s keep it that way, yeah? Anyways, what am I doing here again?”

Namjoon lets out a sigh and reaches from the back of his pants to hand you a simple envelope. You stare at it, blinking.

“If it’s a letter of some sort, you could have simply sent it through the mail, old man.”

“I figured you’d rather keep the envelope as is rather than having words painted on them.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s Jungwon’s.” You freeze and he takes a moment to look at the envelope before beckoning for you to take it once more. “One of the letters was meant for you.”

A letter was written for you? What for?

If Mister Butler had anything to say to you, why didn’t he just speak them to you when he had the chance? Perhaps it’s something secretive that he couldn’t say aloud?

No, can’t be. All his letters were basically his diaries but, why would one of them be addressed to you?

You pull the gloves off your hands, not wanting anything to taint the envelope before taking it from Namjoon. “Did you read it?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“Those are your initials, yes?”

They are.

“The content of the letters addressed to you,” you look back at him, wondering, “what were they about?”

“His daily life. A diary, as you said.”

“He never mentioned anything about what he was doing at the Reaper’s manor in the first place?”

Namjoon shakes his head, a sigh leaving his lips. “Nothing of that sort. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help much with my investigation.”

“Surely your father had some answers.”

“Anything that has to do with my father has already been searched and burned away. None of them ever mentioned anything about my brother. It’s almost as if it disappeared along with him, as if my father knew.”

Did his father get word of Mister Butler’s death? He must have, hence all evidence about what he had done were all destroyed for Namjoon to never find out.

“When did my brother disappear?”

“The eighth of January,” you tell him. “I was nine.” You were hurt that night, severely injured. You don’t remember exactly the events that went by, just the fact that the next thing you knew, you were standing in front of the man you loved so much, staring into his unblinking eyes. “He never said goodbye and after that night, I never saw him again.”

“Something must have happened.”

Yeah, your father killed him and blamed it all on poor little you.

“Well, I have to go now,” you say as you turn around and begin to walk off, “as I said, I’m a pretty busy woman.”

“Y/N if you know anything—”

“I got into an accident that night, Namjoon, so I don’t recall much of what happened.”

“Then those workers—”

“Are dead,” you say. “I killed them all.”

You hear him let out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, you’re too impulsive. If one of them were still alive, they’d know what happened and have better intel than what we have now.”

“Well,” you shrug, “even if one of them were still alive, those workers didn’t really pay much attention to Mister Butler. To them, he was just another one of them, and if someone disappears out of nowhere, they’d only think what they know.”

Any sane worker would think they’d died at the hands of the leaders of the mafia they’re working in.

In Jungwon’s case, it was exactly that. No exception.

“See ya.”

With that, you walk off without looking back again, the letter tightly grasped in your hand.

.

.

.

You stand alone in the garden of the greenhouse, eyes staring blankly at the red roses right before you. With a white suit on, your overcoat drapes on your shoulder as you cross your arms against your chest, the gloves gone as blood still stains your clothing from your previous endeavor.

You don’t care to clean up just yet.

The rose bushes intrigues you as you stare at them, a reminder of someone you used to know.

“The roses remind me of you, Y/N.”

“...Why is that, sir?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh at the title you call him by, but falls understanding that no matter how much he asks of you, you’d never call him by name. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t wish for a close relationship, my dear?” He asks, a small pout glanced your way. “Despite the fact that we were almost engaged?”

You don’t answer his question, giving him anything but a blank stare. It’s all he’ll ever see from you, all you will ever show him. He will never witness your anger, your sadness, your happiness, or any emotions out of you.

Relationships do not matter to you, after all, he’s just another pawn for your father.

“Why do the roses remind you of me, sir?” You speak as if reading off a script; emotionless, robotic.

His brows furrow slightly but he’s used to this. “You’re pretty and you look innocent and sweet and precious, but anytime anyone tries to get any close to you,” he holds his hand out to caress your cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb as he flashes you a small smile, “you will put up a guard and have your thorns protect you. They are your walls, aren’t they?”

“I haven’t hurt you in the slightest, sir.”

He chuckles. “But you resent me, don’t you?”

“I do not hold any feelings towards you.”

“...Right.” He looks down at your figure, the way you sit on the bed obediently, and will not move unless instructed otherwise. You dress in a silky nightgown, one of the straps fallen from your shoulder, and he takes his hand from your face to trace over one of the visible scars held against your skin. You say nothing, you do nothing, and despite his gentle touches, you feel nothing.

He watches you as if trying to monitor your reactions, and when you give him nothing to see, he trails down to your hand and gently takes hold of it.

“You may not hold any feelings towards me but…” he traces the purple ring around your wrist, “you resent my father, do you not?” You say nothing so he goes on. “I may not know you as well as I hope to, Y/N, but even I understand that a lady would never want a man she doesn’t desire to touch her whether in a precious hold or not. You come here, walk into a man’s room whether you like to or not, just like an obedient puppet, and do nothing to go against your father’s words. So whether it’s me touching you or my father…you will not speak up against it.”

So he knew of his father’s doings, yet the closer you watch him, you realize that he’d only learned of that fact recently. Your potential fiance, despite the whole ordeal being to his benefit, has never once taken advantage of you. He holds onto his morals, a man of principles, and when he finds the truth of your relationship with your father, he expresses opposition.

But the two of you are one and the same, living a similar life.

He cannot go against his father, just as you cannot go against yours.

You’re both far too weak against the men of the house.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, almost a whisper, and you see the way he tries to hold onto his anger for you, the way his hand trembles slightly as he does his best not to hold onto your hand too tight. As if afraid he’d hurt you.

He reminds you of someone, but you don’t wish to remember so you look away, not wanting to see that little spark in his eyes.

“I had no reason to.”

When you say that, he looks back up at you, a flash of hurt and disbelief in his eyes. “No reason?” He scoffs. “You have purple bruises on your wrist and you’re saying you had no reason to tell me these things? My father did this to you, Y/N, and I can only imagine what other horrible things he’s done to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You look off to the side, taking your hand from his hold to look out at the window where a bird perches on the tree just outside. “In the end, we can do nothing.”

He hates how right you are, and hates the way you seem to shiver slightly from the cold, goosebumps forming along your skin, yet you say nothing against your pain. You do not care for your well-being, and you guess by now he’s probably realized you’re already broken.

A broken doll for your father to use at his disposal.

You hear him let out a grunt of anger yet when he slips your strap back onto your shoulder and holds the blanket over you, his actions are as gentle towards you as ever.

“When you decide to let your thorns be known to the world, I hope you can come after my father and kill him yourself.” He stands from the bed, going for the door but not before looking back at you for one last thing. “I will wait for you until then.”

How long has it been since you heard those words fall from his lips? It was the last conversation you had with the man, before he went away and did all that he could to drive the relationship between your gang and his to fall apart.

You’re not sure how he did it, but he somehow made it possible for the two of you to never see each other again, and in doing so, saved you from having to see his father ever again.

He was different from Ying, because while Ying always watched you get belittled and hurt and went to console you afterwards, the second he found out the truth, he did all that he could to at least save you from one less burden to carry.

He could do nothing about your father, but he took his father away for your sake.

The roses remind you of him, yet despite the little moments of good memories you have with him, they will always be overshadowed by all the things his father has done to you.

And the longer you stare at the roses, the more you wish to cast the memories away, the more you wish to never remember his face, his voice, and the way he held you.

You feel disgusted.

Perhaps if I touch them…maybe the pain will take over the pain of having to remember him.

You hold your hand out as if in a daze, a chant repeating in your head to try and convince you that marking yourself with physical pain will give you a chance in forgetting the past pains.

Hurt me hurt me hurt me. Let me forget.

You feel your teeth clenching, brows knitted, and just as your hand is about to grab a handful of the rose bush filled with thorns, someone grabs ahold of your hand with a force, stopping you mid-way.

“Please don’t touch the roses, all the plants here are important for the antidotes and poisons we work so hard to create.” It’s Han, one of the young researchers working alongside Yeonjun. He watches over the greenhouse, keeping the plants well-fed and healthy, always holed up in here to help aid the young genius hacker in his researches.

You know just how important each and every plant here are, yet it doesn’t stop you from the hypnotized state you’re in.

You ignore his touch and warning, further hoping to grab a fist full of thorns.

“Boss, please.” Han’s voice fades into the distance as you see nothing but the thorns before you. “Boss-”

“Y/N.”

Someone rips your attention from the flowers, hands held onto both your shoulders, forcing your body to turn their way, and that’s when you seem to come back to your senses.

“..Mingyu.”

“Have tea ready,” your second in command orders to Han, who in turn nods and walks off, knowing Mingyu always knows what to do.

“I’m fine.” You push him off you to turn from the flowers, a bit weak in your legs, and when he sees that, Mingyu reaches out to help you keep steady.

“I guess we have our next target, huh?” One look at you and the flowers and he understands in an instant. “Yuna will be happy.”

“Yuna’s happy with everyone we face.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “can’t really blame her.”

“Forget it,” you begin to walk off without his help, towards the bench just under the wisterias to take your seat. “I don’t want to face them just yet.”

Mingyu watches you with an observing gaze, and when Han returns with the tea, he lets out a sigh when you sip the drink to help you calm your nerves. The more people you go after, the more drained you become, and the more hysterical your state grows. He can’t blame you, after all, these are the people who have done you so wrong in the past, leaving you with scars both physically and mentally.

“Alright,” he says upon your orders when you give him the cup after a good couple of gulps, body laid over to rest your head against the pillow that’s already there for you when you wish to take your afternoon breaks. When your eyes start to droop, he takes a step to the right to block the glaring sun filtering into the greenhouse.

And Mingyu stays there watching after you like a personal knight whose only job is to watch over and protect the princess.

He hates every second of seeing you suffer all alone.

.

.

.

“The longer you keep this up, the harder it’ll be on your body.” When you look up at him from your cup of tea, Namjoon goes on. “Going after the people that’s pissed you off isn’t an easy job. Not only are many of the people that belong to the shadows tough but they do crazy things to one’s mind as well. You’re a victim to the shadows both physically and mentally.”

“Get to the point, Namjoon.”

“You need to slow down, take a break,” he says, “before you break.”

Break.

Hah. What a strange word.

“You needn’t worry about that, I’m already a broken doll.” It’s such a simple sentence that leaves your lips, as if you were speaking about the weather. You show no amount of emotion, eyes as dead as they were the first time he saw you again after ten whole years.

But even then, your ex-lover can see how drained you are by all of these endeavors. You’re stubborn, refusing to admit to the truth, but he knows just how tired you must be both physically and mentally. What if one day you go too far and there’s no one to save you from the drowning?

“I’m serious,” he states against your protest. Namjoon may not understand what happened through the ten years of your disappearance, the extent to which you were hurting, but even he knows just how much it has affected you.

After all, no sweet person can ever turn dark and emotionless without reason.

“I want to get rid of them as soon as possible.” You look up at him from the hood of your lids, taking a sip of the tea that’s been served for you. You were never really one who desired coffee, and ever since Yeonjun joined the gang, all that’s ever helped to calm your nerves were his tea. “You understand how that feels, don’t you?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything but you can see the answer in his hesitation.

“So whether you want to stop me or not, I’m not going to rest until they’re all dead. I can’t.” Because your body refuses to let you. Each time you rest your eyes, nightmares will plague your thoughts, and unless your Reapers are there to help you through the episodes, you can never calm from the fear.

Everything scares you the more people you face, the world closing in, the walls suffocating you. Every second you face them, it feels as if your lungs are weighed by a heavy boulder, refusing to let you breathe. But you’d rather face these disgusting, vile creatures, than to know that they still live, walking the Earth as if all the things they’ve done to you is something that should not be considered a crime, as if they had simply crushed a bug with their foot.

You hurt from their pains while they hold their heads up, laughing in their own freedom.

You want your own freedom.

You need it, you crave it.

And you can never achieve it unless they’re gone from the torture they do to your head.

“Fine.” Namjoon knows he can’t stop you, so he relents. “Who’s your next target then?”

A man you’ve been avoiding.

You put the teacup down, resting against the chair, and cross a leg over the other. “I’ll need your help again, if you’re up for it.”

“And this is?”

“Ever heard of the Black Rose?”

He thinks over the question, a slight purse of his lips. “Isn’t that the gang that left for London? They were faring well here so no one knows why they left when the streets of London is much harder to gain control of.”

“They left because of me.”

He looks at you, blinking. “What?”

“The son, Hwang Hyunjin and I had somewhat of a relationship,” you explain. “I wouldn’t say we were close nor would I say we were friends but he supported me as a friend would. He cared for me.”

Namjoon’s brows knit in just the slightest way. “If he cared for you, why would he leave Korea?”

“He cared for me, that’s why he left.”

Hyunjin was the only decent human being that did the things he did in a respectable and accurate manner among all the mafiosos you’ve met. Even though you could never escape the abuse and pain, he still did you a favor by getting rid of someone who would have traumatized you even more than the man already had.

“So then, if it isn’t Hyunjin you’re after, who is it?”

“Who else but his father?”

“You’re walking into dangerous territory, Y/N.”

“Isn’t everything we do dangerous?” You flick your hair to lay behind your back, not wanting to back down. “He has more power in London than you but that doesn’t mean you aren’t influential there either. That’s why I need you on this mission. Hyunjin will be on my side, as well as you. I’ll need both of you to take Mr. Hwang down.”

“How are you so sure Hyunjin will be on your side? This is his father we’re talking about.”

“And you understand just how broken that relationship can be in this world.” Because his own father was never one to care for him. “It may be different from yours, Hyunjin and his father trust each other, but at the end of the day, he left Korea all for me.”

He left Korea for you.

Namjoon wonders what sort of relationship the two of you had, and the reason why the Black Rose left for you.

When he stares at you from across the table, he sees the determination in your eyes, as well as the trust you hold for a man he does not personally know. So you do know how to trust people outside your gang after all.

“Fine.” There’s no reason to refuse you. At the end of the day, he still needs intel on his brother.

With a satisfied smile resting on your face, you stand from your seat. “Great. I’ll see you in London next week.”

.

.

.

“You’re planning to what?” Mingyu is quick to look at you with alarm, his expression screaming protest. “Live out the fantasy he so wanted long ago?” He repeats your words with a disbelief scoff. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“You have no right to protest.”

“I’m your underboss, I have every right to protest.”

“Please my lady, can’t you think of something else?” Yuna speaks up, her lips forming into a tight frown when she looks your way.

“This is the only way to take down Hwang Leehyun and you know it,” you say against their dismay, standing firm in on your decision no matter what they say. “That man thrives off control and if I can manipulate him into thinking he can take me, we’ll have our score settled and I’ll have taken another man down. He has no reason to suspect me.”

“And if it breaks you?”

You laugh sarcastically at Mingyu’s words, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “How do you break again after you’ve already broken? But then again, perhaps you’re right. A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

“Boss—”

“But I don’t care for that,” you cut him off, the only emotions detected in your eyes are filled with rage and anger. “This is the path I’ve chosen for myself, so whether you like it or not, I will never stop until every last one of them are dead. You have chosen to follow me, do so in silence.” 

With that, you turn your back on your Reapers and they know that no matter how against they are with your plans, once your mind is made up, you will never go back on your words.

“And if something goes wrong when I’m with him, I expect you to do nothing.”

You leave them with no room to protest and they can do nothing but watch you from where they stand, a heavy silence hung in the air because they know more than anyone that stopping you is something that can never be done. You live to seek revenge and you will stop at nothing.

Even if that means meeting death on its way.

Even if it will break you even more.

“Boss?” You don’t hear his call even when he runs up to stand before you, an alarming concern marking his features. All you do is stand there, as still as a corpse, with your head lowered and your eyes staring blankly at nothing before you. 

Mingyu sees the state you’re in; dressed in a white silky dress, spaghetti straps hanging off your shoulders, disheveled hair, with possessive markings splattered around your skin.

He can feel his hands trembling into a fist as he holds himself back, knowing that whatever he does, he can never let his anger get the best of him. So he settles with trying to reach out for you. You don’t see him, you feel numb and dull, like a living corpse, but when his hand holds out to touch you,

You flinch.

And Mingyu freezes.

His hand hovers in the air, frozen in time, and no matter what anyone tells him, he wants to storm out here right now and land his fist on the very man that did this to you, no matter the consequences.

But he has to consider the consequences because if he tries to do anything to go up against the people that have done you wrong, you will face the consequences and he knows more than anyone that that must never happen.

He wants to protect you yet why is this the only way he can save you?

Why can’t he do more?

Mingyu balls his hand in the air and settles it back to his side, turning to the Reapers that have come along as he clenches his jaws, keeping his emotions at bay.

“Yuna, Dasom. Get her a blanket, clean her up, and take care of her. Make sure she eats well.”

He only addresses the girls and they know. They know why.

Because normally you would never flinch in the presence of Mingyu. Never.

“Yes, Mingyu.”

“Yes, Mingyu.”

Yuna hurries to grab a soft blanket and drape it over your shoulders, hiding your revealing skin, and the two of them lead you away from the small little group. You follow willingly without protest, as if you can’t even speak, as if your only purpose in this world is to obey and survive.

Right now you cannot make a decision for yourself, right now you’re numb, you’ve locked yourself out from the world, eyes nothing but dull, empty sockets. Right now you are lost.

Lost in your broken, empty mind.

This is your body’s way of protecting yourself.

Yuna turns to Mingyu, her hand held against his shirt to grab his attention, and a tremor falls in her hand as her grip holds tight.

“I want to save her,” she whispers, a voice barely audible but they hear her. It is a wish they all hold dearly in their hearts. “She…she can’t face him again, Mingyu, not in the same way. Or else…or else…”

“She gave us her command, we can’t go against that,” the second in command states, his emotions held back despite it all. “But there are some people who aren’t obligated to go against her.”

“You don’t mean..”

“They’re the only ones we can rely on to bring Y/N back,” he says despite Dasom’s disapproving glare. “At least we can trust in Jung Hoseok, if anyone.”

.

.

.

“I ask that you protect her well.”

Namjoon sits in his chair, a silent stare at the man who bows before him, and when he looks over at Hoseok, the older man just spares him a silent glance, unsure of what was going on as well.

“You don’t think those are the obligations between two allies, do you?”

“I’m serious,” Mingyu says, his words firm and heavy without an ounce of jest in them. “This mission may as well be one of the most difficult ones my boss will have to face, yet I am not allowed to interfere with her plans.”

“And why is that?” Seokjin asks.

“Because she knows that if I were to be there with her, I may as well stop her and in short, ruin the plan of revenge. Whatever you do, do not stop her, however…” he holds his jaw in, fingers held in a tight fist behind him, “save her…if it so gets to that point.”

The man before them is a man who’s been through a lot, who watched over you and cared for you, a man who truly hopes for nothing but the best out of you. He frets over your safety, concern clearly marked on his face, yet as your subordinate, he is obligated to heed your every order.

“If you’re that worried about her, why don’t you try harder to have her revise her plan? Or better yet, persuade her to leave this be?” Namjoon asks, genuinely curious about his strange resolve.

“Because this is the only way I can save her,” Mingyu says, his expression a sharp, piercing seriousness. “She may be impulsive at times, maybe even bloodthirsty and cruel in her ways of only seeking revenge towards the people that have wronged her, but Y/N’s ambition lies in wanting to seek peace. You and I will never understand her heart but she holds her resolves and she holds her morals and I have every intention of giving everything I can to see her ambition come to pass. I believe that is why I follow her. She has saved me so I will do all that I can to save her. And if saving her means stepping back and having you take care of things for the moment…I hold no protest.”

So that’s how it is.

Both Mingyu and the rest of the Reapers refuse to stand in the way of your dreams. They have sworn themselves to you, from whatever point you’ve met and managed to steal their hearts and souls.

You have a way with people. Even back then when you held no ambitions in killing people, the authority you held had never dissipated. There’s something about you that people can never forget, no matter who they are, and you will always leave an impression in the end.

The Reapers now, your Reapers, are different from any other followers they have ever seen before. They heed your every word, holding them as if they were laws of the world, never to go against you, coming to you the instant you call their names. Loyalty means to have full allegiance and faithfulness owned by a duty, a pledge, or a promise. And the Reapers’ loyalty lies much deeper than that. This isn’t just simple loyalty, this is something much deeper than they can ever imagine. 

You saved him, Mingyu stated, which meant you saved the rest of them as well, and in turn, they’ve vowed their lives to you.

“So as someone who cares deeply for Y/N and as people who once held her at the center of the world,” he looks at them with a pointed stare, eyes refusing to look away or even blink, “don’t you think you should at least give her what she deserves?”

What a loyal companion you have.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the black rose

— summary: he loved you once, so hard, but taehyung has no right to begin caring for you now

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.5k

— warnings: implied sexual harassment/abuse, implied forceful age-gap relationship, mentions of predatory actions/character

— PART 12 / previous part / masterpost

Taehyung watches you with a silent gaze as you stand by yourself, eyes closed against the softness of the night breeze as it flows past you in a neat manner, allowing your hair to fly freely. You sparkle well despite how the darkness of the night, but he guesses he has the street light of the London streets to thank for.

You don’t say anything nor do you do anything to make a move despite the clock ticking at every second. It passes and passes while you stand there, no words leaving your lips.

You’re calm. Too calm.

And something tells him soon enough, it won’t be like this for some time. Perhaps that’s why you’re taking in the calm, the silence, and the peace, before you have to walk into a battlefield.

The calm before the storm, they say.

And although he hasn’t the slightest clue as to what could go on when you make your move, a part of him carries the fear your second in command had when he approached them, asking for them to protect you well now more than ever.

The fear of the unknown.

You’re too calm.

“There is a chance he may invite me to stay at his place,” you speak into the silence, eyelids fluttering open as you turn your head to look back at him from over your shoulder. The golden lights of the lampposts highlight your features well and Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly upon your words. “I won’t deny his invitation for that matter.”

“What?” He blinks, confused. He licks his lips, wondering what’s going on in that head of yours. “I thought your plan was to get him on his feet, make him think he’s got you in the palm of his hands.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Mr. Leehyun like pretty girls that don’t go against him. As long as I comply with him, he won’t think anything’s up and I’ll be able to make my move. Shall we go?”

You begin to walk forward but Taehyung hesitates.

“Wait, Y/N,” he stops you, expression falling into a conflicted concern. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Don’t stop me,” you tell him straight and clear. “Otherwise you aren’t allowed to follow me.”

Mingyu said to never leave you out of sight, to never leave you alone with Leehyun, and Namjoon allowed his words to take precedent in this situation. He doesn’t know the situation, none of them do besides Mingyu and the rest of the Reapers, but even they can tell this mission may take a wrong turn somewhere down the line.

You told Hoseok you were prepared for your death, that you didn’t care to stop so as long as you got to your enemies. Even if you had to die for your revenge, you weren’t going to ever stop until every last one of them was buried underground.

Just how much have these people done to you to make you break like this?

“Come on, Taehyung. If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to mistake that look as you worrying for me.” You hold out your hand for him to take and although he does so with hesitation, Taehyung falls in order with you, knowing there’s no other choice.

When you walk into the grand room in an unfamiliar environment, the way you hold your head up without the slightest hint of hesitation or fear in your eyes, each step bold and long, it’s almost as if you belong right here in this light.

Nothing about you screams out of place and Taehyung guesses you’ve come to blend in well into the crowd without completely becoming invisible or taking everyone’s attention. Just the right amount that lets the people here know you are a mafia’s daughter who can hold her ground.

He doesn’t like being out in public nor does he like the attention but he guesses if he’s with you, it’s only inevitable.

You’re beautiful after all, no one can deny that.

“There’s our target,” you say in a soft murmur, eyeing a familiar-looking man who now holds a bit of grey hair after years of absence.

You falter for a moment, frozen in spot, and before Taehyung can ask about anything, you’re back to your bold and cold demeanor, eyes vanished of emotions as you lead him along to walk towards the man you have always dreaded to face. It’s as if that small moment of hesitation had never occurred.

Hyunjin isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Mr. Hwang,” you call out in a silky tone, leaving the hand of your ex-lover to flash a small little smile towards the older man.

He, who had been talking to two other women, turns at your call, his eyes bulging slightly at the sight of you.

That gaze of his always made you feel things.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about me.” He turns from the ladies upon your words, a familiar flash glinting in his eyes as he meets your approach halfway. Taehyung follows you just behind, eyeing the whole exchange as Hwang Leehyun takes ahold of your hand and greets you with a kiss on the back.

“How could I ever forget a beauty like you?”

Taehyung frowns at his mannerism, already feeling uncomfortable.

“Father gave me a small little vacation so I decided to come to London. I’m glad to have met you in this little moment.” You lie so easily through your teeth, feigning innocence and sweetness, your smile kind and gentle but behind it all, Taehyung knows you must dislike all of this.

“It’s unfortunate our relationship had to cut off too soon but I’m happy to hear you still think of me.”

You grin his way, pushing past its strain. “You’re hard to forget, Mr. Hwang.”

That isn’t a lie.

“You are too.”

You look down at the way he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb with no signs of letting go anytime soon. In moments like this, you wish Mingyu was here to rescue you, to give you space, a bit of a breather. You have to fight hard to restrain yourself and not kill everyone on the spot because right now there is nothing else you want to do.

Just to forget. Just to get rid of it all.

But you know that if you were to lose control now, you’d lose. You can’t lose to Hwang Leehyun again.

Not again.

“You seem more easygoing, my dear.” You don’t flinch away when Leehyun reaches out to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear, caressing you as if you were some sort of lover to him. “You smile more easily. You’ve grown more pretty. You’ve always been pretty but…something about you is different.”

“Does it please you?”

He laughs. “It certainly does.”

Right.

Unsure of the way things are going, Taehyung clears his throat albeit awkwardly but it catches the attention of Leehyun, who takes his hand from your face, allowing you to breathe a little better. You take a step back towards Taehyung, somewhat bitter yet thankful at the same time.

“This is father’s assistant acting as my bodyguard, Mr. Hwang,” you introduce with a lie. It’s a good thing Taehyung doesn’t go out often for his face to get recognized, unlike the other boys, hence you allowed him to follow you during this mission. It was probably the reason why they chose him in the first place. Namjoon always knows what to do in dire situations. “Unfortunately the more powerful father gets, the more enemy he has, hence he has to come along with me.”

Introducing Taehyung as your father’s assistant helps to give you more leeway, because in that sense, Leehyun won’t see Taehyung as an obstacle and won’t fall suspicious in the way he follows your steps. He’ll just think Taehyung’s here to keep an eye out for you in your father’s place and not someone who’s on your side and will interfere with his time with you.

“Your father is quite generous. His love for his daughter is immeasurable,” he acknowledges Taehyung for a split moment before turning to you once again. “If I had a daughter like you, I would spoil you to no end. It’s unfortunate the engagement with Hyunjin didn’t work out.”

You leave him with that; wanting more. So with a nod, you entangle your hand along Taehyung’s arm, a bidding goodbye on the tip of your tongue.

“I would love to talk more, but my friend here will be snitching to my father if I stayed up too late. If you will excuse—”

“How about staying at my place?” His suggestion isn’t unexpected, in fact, you knew it was coming. Still, you feign a small little blink of innocence. “I’m sure if you were with someone reliable, your father wouldn’t be able to complain.”

He holds his hand out for you and you can tell with the way the corner of his smile twitches a little and the small little glance made Taehyung’s way, that he holds some sort of feeling towards the way you hold onto your father’s so-called assistant.

You’d rather stay with your ex-lover but in such a situation, you decide to let your hand fall into the palm of Leehyun’s hand.

“Then, please take care of me, Mr. Hwang.”

The way he squeezes your hand and the way his eyes flashed with a bit of sinister makes you sick to the stomach.

.

.

.

“What were you doing with a man like him?”

You look at Taehyung through the mirror of the vanity before you as you sit on the cushioned seat, a hairbrush flowing through your hair under the dim light of the room.

He doesn’t understand and perhaps he never will, but it doesn’t matter to you either way. All he has to do is stand still, pretend to be your bodyguard, and follow your lead without doing anything to stop you. That’s all he has to do.

But something concerns you with the way his brows crease a bit deeper than how they usually are, the way his nose flares up, the way he rests his hand on his hips, pacing back and forth as if he cannot fathom what reason you could possibly have to stick around with a man like Hwang Leehyun.

What were you doing with a man like him, he asks?

“Surviving,” you answer simply, leaving it with just that.

He can interpret it in any way he wants, you don’t care either way. And because you decide not to say anything any further, it frustrates him even more.

So you let out a sigh and turn from the mirror, putting the brush down against the desk. “It will do you well to calm down and get some rest. Stop pacing back and forth, you’re going to tire yourself out and—”

“Y/N, I know you.” You frown at his words. “You’re someone who won’t cry out or complain or give the whole truth to something because you hate looking weak in front of others and I don’t know whether you’re scared or too prideful but the situation here clearly indicates that—”

“Taehyung.” You cut him off with a simple call of his name, tone falling a little more low and dangerous than how it was mere seconds ago. He stops speaking, standing still in place as if it were Namjoon speaking to him. You fling a leg over the other, eyeing him down. “It’s been several years since we’ve parted,” you remind him, “do you realize how much a person can change in ten years? You may think you know the girl I was then, and perhaps you do, but I’m not who I was anymore. I’ve changed, and who knows, I may even be just as sick, if not more, than the man who escorted me right into this very bedroom.”

You stand from the chair to walk on over to the bed without another word, leaving him lost in his thoughts as you give him not another spare glance.

.

.

.

“Y/N…..?”

Hyunjin stares at you with small, widened eyes, his mouth left slightly agape, frozen in place after he walked in through the entrance to his manor. Of all the people he expected to see walking back to his house, he never sought out to find you; a woman who was almost his to claim but decided to give up on when he knew you could never love him all the same.

You had no room for him in your life and he accepted that, freeing you from one of the chains holding you down for you to reach your potential. His sincerity to you was in the form of leaving; saving you from his father.

And now here you are, years later, standing before him with a small smile plastered on your face, the glint in your eyes different from what he knew previously.

You’re different from who he saw years ago, an aura overbearingly strong as you stand beside his father without the slightest hint of flinch.

And he realizes your purpose in being here.

“Hyunjin,” his father calls to him, an easygoing lighthearted expression on his face, unaware of what meets him on the other side. Nevertheless, Hyunjin remains stoic as he continues his walk as if that moment of hesitation had never happened in the first place. “You remember Y/N, don’t you?”

“Who can ever forget Miss Y/N?”

“That’s right,” Leehyun chuckles and he catches the way his father places a hand around your waist, pulling you in close as if you were a lover he was introducing to his son.

What a sick bastard, especially knowing you were almost his son’s fiance.

“She’s on vacation,” he says as he looks down at you with a smile. You return one of your own and the blind father doesn’t suspect anything behind that glint. Hyunjin is disgusted at the sight he sees before him.

“..Is she?” He holds a hand out for you, eyes boring into yours with a piercing gaze when you glance back at him, a small secret stare exchanged for you to notice. He takes you from his father, allowing you to stand by his side instead and to Taehyung, it almost looks as if these are two men of equal standing fighting over the same woman. “What a pleasant surprise.” Hyunjin lets go of your hand but keeps you beside him nonetheless.

You notice his kindness. “It’s nice to see you again, sir.”

Leehyun looks at his watch impatiently upon your exchange with his son, keeping his cool. “Unfortunately I’ve got a busy schedule. Since you kids were almost betrothed to one another, why don’t you show her around town, Hyunjin? You did get along fine years ago.”

“Of course, father,” Hyunjin nods at the command, and before his father could try and personally bid you goodbye, he turns to you with a tight smile, blocking his father’s path as he holds out his hand for you again. “Why don’t we go now? I know a few good breakfast spots.”

You take his hand, nodding. “I should get ready first.”

“Of course.”

While ignoring Leehyun, Hyunjin leads you away from the entrance, not sparing his father another chance to speak to you again as he keeps his focus on you. It is until his father leaves does he let go of your hand, the formal smile dropping from his face.

You watch him as he takes a step away from you, cautious of your personal space as he takes a moment to bring his gaze down your body. Anyone else would think he’s checking you out but you know better than that. You hold out your hands before him, showing off your naked wrists at the furrowed brows and anxious twitch of his lips.

“He didn’t try anything on you?” Is the first thing he asks.

“I have a friend with me who refuses to leave my side,” you reply lightly, beckoning towards the other man in the room.

Hyunjin looks over to find Taehyung, who in turn narrows his gaze slightly with suspicion, and the two of them start off into a staring contest, both keeping up their guards against one another.

Taehyung’s face isn’t someone familiar to Hyunjin’s eyes, and he knows because throughout his times with you, the man had come to recognize your close aids, especially Mingyu and Yuna. You’re not one who will carelessly allow people by your side openly to anyone, which probably means that to some extent; you trust this man but he isn’t a part of your gang.

To Taehyung, Hyunjin’s probably another guy like Leehyun, but with the way he regarded you before his father and the way he keeps his space from you with caution, he guesses Hyunjin isn’t entirely a bad guy. Well, Namjoon did mention you said he had left Korea all for you so he can probably trust this man to an extent.

“Though his touches are indeed uncomfortable.”

Upon your voice, the two boys look away from one another, forgetting about their little silent disputing moment to draw their attention back to you, who places a hand on your waist, your lip taking a downturn with a disgusted frown resting on your face.

“There isn’t much to be done about that, however. I knew what I was getting into.”

Hyunjin has an expression of guilt though you’re unsure as to why. Perhaps he feels responsible in some ways though you’ll never blame him for what his father has done. Just because one may be blood-related to someone doesn’t mean they are one and the same.

Fathers are terrible human beings.

“I’m glad you can express yourself a little more now,” you hear him say, causing you to give a slight tilt of your head his way. Hyunjin chuckles as if recalling some memories, and with a small cautious glance Taehyung’s way, he continues with a fond smile your way. “You used to allow anything and everything happen to you without complaints.” Taehyung stands there, listening silently with furrowed brows. “You were almost lifeless then.”

You don’t flinch away from his touch when he reaches out to gently brush away a few stray hairs from your face. He gives you an expression that speaks “yet you’re still hurting, aren’t you?” and you don’t reply, eyes falling to the floor at the memories.

Taehyung’s here so you can’t let him know that the reason you’re able to express yourself a little more is because your father’s dead. Now that he’s gone, you have freed yourself just a bit, and although life hasn’t completely gotten better, in some ways your shoulders are less heavier than they were before.

“Is—”

You give him a look, eyes staring down at him to not say anything any further, and you guess he can take the hint that although you trust Taehyung, there’s only so little he knows.

Taehyung stands a bit envious at how well Hyunjin can read you, as well as the secrets he knows that Taehyung will probably never come to know. You share a past with one another, and although Hyunjin implied you didn’t keep a close relationship with the man, the fact that you can be like this with him now tells him everything.

In the three years he spent with you, it almost seems as if those years never existed, because the person he sees now and the person he saw then make him realize that in the end, they never did know you, did they?

You have your secrets, they all did, but unlike them who had gradually let their walls down and allowed you to see their vulnerable selves, you kept the walls up; steady and thick.

On days you’d cry, show your weakness, lean on them when you’d need it most, but as he watches the exchange between you and Hyunjin, Taehyung can only see that no matter how much you loved them then, there was always a part of you who kept yourself a secret from them.

You don’t love Hyunjin, he knows you don’t, but Hyunjin knows a part of you that he will never come to know, and for that, a part of him feels a small ache in his heart.

“Would you still like to look around London?” Hyunjin asks you as he takes a small glance around the house. “I’m sure this environment doesn’t make you any less comfortable.”

You send him a small nod before excusing yourself upstairs to dress up in a better attire for the weather and Taehyung follows behind without a word.

.

.

.

“My father is dead.”

Hyunjin nods as the two of you walk side by side, Taehyung walking along somewhere else where he’s out of earshot but still allowed to keep an eye on you.

“I assumed so,” Hyunjin says without an ounce of surprise in his tone. “That’s why you look a little more free than you did then.” You don’t say anything to that but he continues anyway, used to your silence. “So you finally took the bullet to his head, huh? I was waiting for a moment to strike my own father and now that you’re here, there’s no more time to waste. How’re you planning on doing this?”

“I want to use you,” you say, stopping to look in his direction. “May I use you?” You ask him and Hyunjin looks down at you, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“If it helps you in any way.”

You nod at his reply, thankful, before you continue on your walk again. “Your father gets off on relationship dynamics where he’s in full control without having to share any of that power with anyone, that’s why he never cared for your mother, and that’s why getting close to him as a ‘significant other’ isn’t going to work.”

“You plan on becoming my fiancé,” he guesses at what you’re putting at, scoffing with disbelief when you confirm it. After finding out the deeds his father had done, Hyunjin was beyond disgusted, and hearing it still makes him boil with rage thinking about it.

His father is a predator, a disgusting creep.

“It’ll allow him to put his guard down a bit, though it seems he may be a bit hostile towards your care for me.”

“Do you want me to tone it down a bit? Provoke him less?” He doesn’t want to, but if it helps your current situation, he’ll have to agree to your words.

“No.” Yet you say, firm in your decision with a glint of ire flickering in your eyes. “No matter what happens, don’t ever do all that you can to stop him from trying things with me. He’ll tolerate it because you play the role of the fiancé and he’ll know that he doesn’t have the right to take you from me. It will make him more upset and it will cause him to try more things with me in that case, but no matter how hostile and angry he may be with you, do not ever leave me to him. I want to use you as a fiancé and I want to use you as a shield, and if I can’t shoot him in the head like I plan to, if I somehow freeze up, I want you to end him for me. No one else.”

This is the first time you’ve ever asked Hyunjin for a favor, a silent cry for help, and he remembers the last memory he had of you; sitting on his bed, lifeless eyes staring only blankly as you had no strength in you to fight back against anything or anyone. You were a doll made for your father to use, and as long as he had no complaints about who or what was happening to you, you had no reason to act out, especially since the Reapers and the Black Rose were allied then.

It was your way of survival; playing the role of the puppet.

That was why he left, because he knew anything else would have drowned you further down and down the deep, deep ocean, weights of burdens and people holding your feet to keep you in. He knew what he did wouldn't save you but he wanted to take at least one weight away, just for you to float up from the sea at least just the slightest bit.

He had no power to go against his father, accuse him of all the things he’s done to you — he would have died — so he plays the role of an obedient child, just as you had, waiting to strike and turn against him during the right moment, so he wouldn't know it was coming. 

When Hyunjin looks at you, he can see traces of the war leaving you drained and exhausted. You’re tired of everyone and everything, yet you have no will to back down anytime soon. He knows you’ve gone and killed a few of your enemies already, his father is just another target on your hit-list, a passing moment, and you still have others to kill, others that have done you wrong. 

Still, no matter how much you hate a man, a part of you will still be afraid and your body knows it best.

“I’ll kill him,” he nods against your request, firm and unwavering. If you can’t take the shot, he’ll do it in your place.

You turn from his gaze at that, accepting his answer, when a small little droplet hits your cheek. 

You look up, aware of the small drizzling of the rain, when an umbrella is held over you without hesitation. You look over to find Taehyung, silent and observant, now by your side with an umbrella over your head. 

For a man who’s only pretending to be an assistant, he sure does his job well.

Luckily it’s only a small little rain, so even though you’re the only one with an umbrella held over your head (by someone else), you don’t care to move away from the opening. 

The other two don’t seem to mind either.

“I want this over with in less than three days if that’s alright with you,” you continue the flow of the conversation as if it never stopped in the beginning. “Any more stalling may cause me to go insane and I cannot afford that.”

“Of course.”

“Tonight we’re going to discuss the merging of our hands. I’ll push for the engagement party the day after tomorrow. I’m sure your father won’t mind the rush.” Of course he wouldn’t. “And as for the case of him not yet knowing of the news of my father’s death, as well as who killed him, I’ll take care of it. All you have to do is play the role of my fiancé. Once it’s all done and over with, I’m sure you will do well to hide all these secrets from the London mobs. Namjoon gave me the passageway into the streets, I need you to give me a way to leave it. Bring only the people that you can trust in to the party, anyone else will pose a problem to us.”

Years ago, Hyunjin would have never thought you to take up the reins and lead a whole mafia on your back, yet the way you speak without falter, a voice of authority and strength, he can no longer see that little girl who only followed behind the shadows of her father.

The puppet has become the puppeteer.

Or maybe you were the true puppeteer all along, waiting to strike.

No one saw it coming, you did well to follow in your father’s steps, and although many sacrifices were made, you’re now standing here right in the center, eyes unwavering and filled with a strength only someone who went through so much can hold.

He knows, however, that you can only grow stronger. You just have to sacrifice a few more of yourself in order to do so.

And for that, his heart hurts for you.

.

.

.

“Shall we become a family?” 

Of course it’s Leehyun who proposes the idea first. You know that in his mind, you’re only staying here for a limited amount of time before you return to your home, and he’ll no longer be able to see you. You were already taken away from him the first time, this time you can see in his eyes that he doesn’t plan to let you leave him just as easily as you did then. 

It’s sickening the way he looks at you.

You feign a smile, shyly glancing over at Hyunjin before returning your gaze back to him again. “Are you sure, Mr. Hwang? Would that be alright?”

He likes that expression on your face; shy, innocent.

You hate it.

“Of course it would. I’ve always wanted you.” You cringe at those words, holding your expression as he continues on. “You’d be the perfect daughter-in-law anyone would ask for. You’re sweet, obedient, and always listen well without ever acting out. You’re the perfect daughter-in-law.”

Daughter-in-law, not his son’s lover or his son’s fiancé but his daughter-in-law.

“You flatter me, Mr. Hwang.” You let your eyes flutter down to your lap, a hand against your hand to play the role of an embarrassed, shy, innocent girl.

You hear him chuckle in response and can feel the eyes of the two other men in the room. 

“Of course, we’d have to discuss this with your father.”

“Actually, I have some good news.” You turn to Taehyung and he hands you a letter that then gets slid across the table towards the older man. “Father did mention hoping to reconnect with you, said he wouldn't mind Mr. Hyunjin and me to be betrothed to one another again.”

“Really?” He raises a brow with keen interest as he takes the letter you’ve handed him. Of course, it’s a fake letter, one you had Mingyu write, feigning your father’s handwriting to make it real. Out of everyone who’s stayed by your side, Mingyu knows your father’s mannerisms and speeches best. 

“If it’s alright with you, would you like to return to Korea, Mr. Hwang?” You blink up at him with wide eyes, a hopeful gaze set in them, one you know he wouldn't be able to refute. 

Just on cue, you see that familiar glint in his eyes and almost falter in your stance.

You can feel your heart beating hard against your chest and it’s not the good kind of beating. It never is when it comes to Hwang Leehyun.

“Returning to Korea sounds like a good idea, wouldn't you think, Hyunjin?” 

Hyunjin, uncomfortable in his seat, nods with a tight smile. “Yes, father.”

“Unfortunately I have to return in a few days,” you speak up again. “Father mentioned an important mission I’ll have to take that will require my attention for some time. So if it’s alright with you, why don’t we hold the engagement party while I’m here?”

“Without your father?”

“He has already given us his blessings,” you push the conversation on. “Plus father has never been one to enjoy parties.”

“Of course,” Leehyun nods, pretending to remember that fact. You’re sure he doesn't remember much about your father. He’s only ever kept his eyes on you after all. “You’ve become quite the lady, haven’t you?” A small change in his tone, Leehyun reaches out to gently stroke your head. 

You smile meekly, eyes fluttering to the floor, feigning shyness when in reality, you’re just hoping to not meet those eyes of his. 

It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.

You hate this.

“It’s getting late.” Hyunjin stands with a hand held out to you, breaking the moment. “I’ll take you up to your room.”

“She can go alone.”

“Ah, but would anyone want to leave such a pretty lady alone to herself? I am to become her fiancé soon after all.” 

“Right..” You hate the sound of his tone. 

“I am her aide,” Taehyung speaks up for the first time that night, “I can take her upstairs.” 

He holds his hand out for you, and although you hate every part of this, you’re relieved he can at least read the room and can step in when he needs to most. So you take up his offer, bidding the other two goodbye, and you return to the guest room with Taehyung by your side.

It is when the door closes do you finally drop your acting face down, eyes hardened with gritted teeth against your jaw. 

Your hands tremble with anger as you fist a hairful into your hands, touching where Leehyun had held you, breathing louder than you intend to. You pace back and forth, silent, as Taehyung watches on, understanding your frustration and turmoil.

“What is it?” He wants you to speak, to let it out. So you speak.

“I want to kill him,” you say, a whisper laced with ire. “I want him gone, I…How dare he touch me so carelessly? If I could cut his hand off — no — break each of his fingers off in the most slowest and cruelest ways, I…If I could just kill him right now, I’d—”

“Y/N.”

“But I can’t.” You run your fingers through your hair, making it disheveled on purpose. Perfection is what they want out of you. You hate perfection. “I have to be patient. I have to do this perfectly. If not, everything I’ve worked so hard for will go down the drain.”

“It’s okay. Just hold on a little longer.”

It’s alright.

You’ll be okay.

Just hold on a little longer.

Just a little longer.

“You can take it, can’t you? Just a little longer and it’ll all be over.”

Those words are mocking you, trying to tear you down to pieces, and as if Taehyung can understand just how much his words have affected you right there and then, he steps up before you, an expression of guilt. 

“I apologize. That must have sounded inconsiderate of me.”

Inconsiderate.

Ha. What a word. 

If Mingyu was here, what would Mingyu do? What would he say? He’d know just what to do, to calm your ire, to calm all that you are right now. 

Everything threatens to tear you down but you can’t even let it all go. You have to hold on because looking weak before Taehyung will only backfire on you. You can’t break down. Not now.

Not now.

Not now.

Where is the pillar that you need the most? Where is your calm?

You shut him out. 

That’s right. He wasn’t allowed to join you, otherwise he’d stop you from what you’re trying to do right now. None of them were allowed to come. If Mingyu had been by your side during all of this instead of Taehyung, you’re sure he would have had a few things to say by now.

You stare at Taehyung who stands before you, and although you know the rest of them must be listening in on everything that has happened so far, as well as this moment right here, you can’t help but ask; “May I see your hand?”

He falls confused, unsure of what you’re meaning to do, but he holds his hand out either way. 

You take ahold of it, touching the larger, callous hand, and run it against your head. 

You lean against the touch, closing your eyes, and Taehyung realizes this is the exact place Leehyun had held you previously. Mere moments ago. 

His brows furrow and he holds out his other hand before you. “Shall we try something?”

You open your eyes to find Taehyung lost in your memories.

“Shall we try something?” 

You tilt your head slightly to the side, lips pressed together with confusion. “Try..something?”

He sends you a soft smile, one that always seems to calm your heart. “Mmn,” he nods, “I think it can help you. Well, I hope it does.”

You’re still confused but place your hand in his either way. Taehyung holds it up so that both your palms face one another, as if you were looking directly at a mirror before you. But it isn't a mirrored version of you that you see before you. It’s Taehyung. Just Taehyung.

He looks at you differently from what your reflection shows. Rather than resentment and insecurity mirroring you, Taehyung watches you with a soft expression of love and care. 

“What did we say about hiding?” He asks gently with a kind smile. “I told you, didn't I? You can complain all that you want. You can lash out, throw a tantrum, scream, shout, just don’t hide.”

Don’t be silent.

It’s okay to scream.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” He leans in and you fall forward, meeting his forehead with yours in the middle. “It’s okay to rely on us, to rely on me. You don’t have to hide, Y/N, not when you’re with me.”

He intertwines your fingers together and…

…pull you in close, allowing your ears to rest against his chest, where the beat of his heart lies. It’s steady unlike your own and when you close your eyes to listen to his heartbeat, it’s the last thing you hear before your body falls limp a few moments later. 

Taehyung holds you up and carries you off to the bed, tucking you in before he leans away, watching you with an unreadable expression, all the while knowing he’s being listened in on by the rest of the crew back in their hotel rooms.

.

.

.

You wake up in the middle of the night just as you had done the night before. Taehyung wakes up along with you, woken by your moving presence who stands in the middle of the bedroom, aimlessly staring at nothing.

You look like a ghost, a walking corpse, and as he watches you from where you stand, your eyes aren’t as guarded as they always are when you’re wide awake. He knows you must be in a state where you aren’t fully awake but you’re not asleep either. It’s as if you can’t sleep well, and he wonders whether that’s because you’re placed in a different environment or if it has to do with something else.

“Y/N?” He calls your name, softly, but you don’t react one bit.

A blanket is wrapped around you, keeping you warm, but as you walk towards the light of the moon right outside the window, it falls from your shoulders, leaving them bare, causing you to shudder at the sudden coldness.

Taehyung walks over to pick the blanket up, a concerned furrow on his brows as he watches you, unsure of what’s going on. Last night you stood for a while before taking a seat on the floor, your head resting on the wall, and that was when you finally got some sleep, but tonight something tells him your body might not adjust to sleep as easily.

He remembers a time in the past when his heartbeat used to bring you to sleep but things are different now and although it helped for a moment, you’re awake now, unable to get a proper night’s sleep.

Just how much are you holding in that head of yours?

“Y–” He tries calling again when he hears something and senses another presence. 

Taehyung reaches for his gun when he finds a shadow against the window. They jump in without a sound, like an assassin made from the shadows, and when the person brings a finger up to their lips to keep him quiet, he realizes this is one of your Reapers.

Yuna, was it? Your blind shadow.

He puts his gun down but watches her with a steady gaze, unable to completely let his guard down.

She ignores him to turn to you, who stares blankly out the window, a small tilt in your head as you look up at the moonlight. Yuna takes the blanket from Taehyung to drape it over your shoulders. You take it as if possessed, covering yourself from the coldness, eyes still blank, lips sealed shut.

She stays beside you, silent, and reaches a hand out to you, weaving her hand through your hair. You welcome the touch without flinching away, a sign that tells Taehyung her touch is one you trust, one you are safe with, and one you have familiarized yourself with.

“Why are you awake, my lady?” She asks softly, her approach careful with a touch of tenderness. “You have a big day tomorrow and the day after that. You should be sleeping.”

You turn towards her voice, and something tells Taehyung you aren’t taking in what her words are saying, you’re just reacting to the sound of her familiar melody..

You’re still in a mindless state.

“Aren’t you tired?” Yuna asks, and upon those words, you lean in to rest your head against her shoulder. She takes your hand and you follow her willingly, allowing her to sit you down against a soft little seating in front of the window. She sits beside you, letting your head fall against her lap, and with the blanket held on top of your body, the silence of the night fills in as Yuna runs her hand through your hair, helping you to flutter your eyes closed and get a good night’s rest.

It remains quiet for a while before your breathing evens out and they know you’ve finally gone back to sleep again.

Taehyung wonders if you even realize this happens to you at night. Do you realize you wake up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep? And do you realize only your Reapers can get you back to your resting state without breaking you out of your mindless state?

You trust these Reapers, he knows, but just as their loyalty and allegiance to you runs deeper than the ocean, he wonders if you ever realize how deep your trust runs in them.

When he looks at Yuna who keeps quiet, something tells him they probably keep this part of you a secret to themselves.

“Your…blindfold,” he sparks up a conversation. Her hand pauses in the air for a split second at his voice. “..What happened to your eyes?”

Yuna remains silent for a bit, her hand continuing the gentle motion in your hair before she decides to entertain him the story.

“It was a price I had to pay for in order to stay by my lady’s side,” she says, her words filled with memories of those days. “Boss took them out herself and I willingly allowed her to. Our secrets would have been exposed otherwise and we couldn’t afford that.”

“So you became blind…for her.”

“For my lady, I’d do anything.” She tilts her head up and if she had eyes, Taehyung knows she would be looking straight at him. “This was the first test of loyalty between the first Reaper and the lady. The bond between the Reapers and the boss would not have been as tight if it weren’t for this sacrifice, because if I never lost my eyes for her…I’m sure she would have never been able to trust in anyone ever again.” He presses his lips tightly against those words, connecting what that meant. He knows she’s talking about their betrayal to you. “Once you pledge allegiance to someone, it behooves you not to betray the faith that they have placed in you. That is the agreement between the Reapers and the boss. Losing my eyes for her meant she could place her faith in me and the rest of us that came after me.”

Yuna; the very first Reaper who stood by your side and got you to earn her trust and restore some sort of faith in others again.

When they left you all alone during those days, it never occurred to him what would have happened as an aftermath of their actions. You had to pay the price, the consequences of their actions, and for the first time since the night he watched from the sideline as you bowed your head before them, Taehyung can feel a tinge of regret aching against his chest.

All the things you went through, he will never come to find out. The only person who knows and is even close to staying by your side through it all is the one before him, who holds her head up, unwavering loyalty not meant to ever break even past her death.

When he looks at the way she regards you, Taehyung feels so little against her despite his physical body much bigger than her.

Does he even have the right to regret anything? Who is he to only care after seeing you like this? Who is he to begin caring now when he realizes you’ve had it rough throughout those ten years after the divorce?

If he didn’t care when you graced them with your smile, what right does he have to begin caring when he sees the invisible tears left in the weight of your drained eyes?

He knows he has no right.

None at all.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the broken

— summary: once someone's been taught to stay quiet their whole life, how do they learn to scream and shout for help?

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 11.1k

— warnings: implied sexual harassment/abuse, implied forceful age-gap relationship, mentions of predatory acts/character, mentions of memory suppression, resurfacing of suppressed memories, implied forced submission, gaslighting, manipulation, mentions of breaking, mentions of toxic family relations, toxic power dynamics, suppressed emotions, brief mention of miscarriage, violence, slight gore

— PART 13 / previous post / masterpost

“Will you help me with the zipper?”

The light-colored champagne dress you wear fits you beautifully, just as everything does, yet tonight you seem to look a bit more elegant and dignified, the lighter color creating a more pure and soft look as compared to the darker dresses he’s gotten used to seeing you wear. This is part of the play. After all, in order to seem innocent before Hwang Leehyun, you have to look the part.

As he helps you with the zipper, Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about you dressing up for a man like Leehyun.

You give him a small thanks before turning to the vanity mirror and taking a seat in order to fix your hair and makeup. The first thing you do is brush through your hair while Taehyung stands on the sideline, watching you. You bring a fancy hairpin along your hair, holding it up into a low bun, then turn towards the makeup kit to begin patting your face down.

The beauty comes along and when you reach a certain step, you frown slightly at the eyeliner in your hand.

You’ve always had Dasom handle your makeup and playing with eyeliner is something you have yet to get used to. But she did always mention using a sharp-lined corner as a guideline to help you through in case she wouldn’t be around to help you.

You look around before putting a leg up against the vanity, rolling your dress up to take the knife you had hidden against your thigh, and Taehyung watches with slight confusion as you line the edge of the knife along your eye.

He meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror when you use the knife as a guide to create your wings, your gaze intense with a fire he has yet to get used to.

He’s first to rip away from the contact, feeling rather flustered at how..hot that was.

Respectfully.

“Shall we get going?” When you stand up and hold your hand out for him a few minutes later, Taehyung has to take a moment to take your appearance in. No matter how much time has passed, your beauty will always shine bright, but in the past months he’s met you again after a couple of passing years, you only seem to shine even brighter.

“Don’t get too carried away now,” you say and he realizes he got caught staring.

Taehyung clears his throat as he takes your hand and leads you to the door, not entirely fond of the fact that this is all for the sake of a sick bastard.

.

.

.

“As expected you are…” the second Leehyun sees you, he can’t help but fall into a slight daze, “..beautiful.” He speaks with a sighing breath as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing before him, and Taehyung’s stance straightens at those words, his eyes hardening at Leehyun.

Perhaps this is why you didn’t allow your Reapers in on this mission. Would they be able to hold themselves back for their boss? Even he’s having a hard time restraining himself.

Leehyun reaches out to lightly brush a strand of hair to the side and when he leans into you, you can feel Taehyung’s hold of your hand tightening. “I can’t wait to become a family,” he whispers, and perhaps to others, he truly adores his future daughter-in-law in an innocent way but to you and Taehyung, those words only bring chills down your spines.

“Father, Y/N.” Hyunjin steps in to the rescue, allowing his father to back away at the call of your names. “The guests have all arrived, we should get going.”

“Right.” He seems a bit disappointed at the moment ripped away from him but the three of you do not care for it as you turn to stand by Hyunjin’s side.

Taehyung takes a second to look at Hyunjin, who gives him silent words of reassurance, before he takes his leave from the potential newly made family. He walks away to join the room full of guests, blending into the crowd with cautious eyes staring at his surrounding.

“I don’t think you would have been able to hold yourself back if you were in my position,” he says the instant Jimin pulls up to his side, offering him a glass of champagne.

“Well,” Jimin hums, “it was bad enough just listening in on the conversations, I can only imagine.”

“He’ll die soon enough,” Yoongi speaks up with eyes staring straight towards the fancy door that hides the three of you from the eyes of the guests.

Soon enough they open with the sight of Hwang Leehyun with a proud grin on his face, the one that hides his sinister self, hidden from the public to see. And hidden from the eyes of Leehyun and his men are the men of Bangtan blended in with the crowd, watching with steady eyes as he opens his mouth with a prepared speech at hand.

“I thank you for coming here on short notice..” he begins and his voice trails off for Hoseok as he walks about discreetly, watching the room to see if anything is amiss.

There are two guards by the entrance door, three men upstairs keeping an eye on the room, and a few more in the room, dressed in black suits with earpieces connecting them to one another for communication purposes.

If anything happens, you’re the last person they’ll think to harm, especially with Hyunjin and Leehyun by your side so he doesn’t need to worry about your safety for the beginning portion of all of this.

You’ll be alright…for now.

“I ask that you protect her well,” Mingyu’s voice echoes in his head. “Whatever you do, do not stop her, however…save her…if it so gets to that point.”

In the beginning, he couldn’t understand what those words meant. They lied heavy with great responsibility and although Hoseok knew he would have obliged them without Mingyu having to say it, now that he understands the context of things, it only makes him sick to the stomach.

The things you went through when you left them can only be left to their imaginations and for your sake, Hoseok hopes you can keep strong.

He saw how much you’ve changed, the strength in you different from how it was during the three years he got to know and love you. You have a sort of strength that seems almost impossible to break, your thoughts and mind plagued with only the desire to seek revenge for those that have wronged you.

But even the strongest villains in the world can break down and fall apart.

What if something goes wrong down this line? What would happen then?

“Please welcome my future daughter-in-law,” he hears Leehyun say, and you come into sight, a dignified beauty beyond compare.

You’re beautiful, glowing brightly under the chandelier lights, and he knows that everyone else in the room is thinking the very same thoughts. When you grace them with a smile, you only shine brighter, and before they can approach you with congratulations and introduce themselves, they have to take a moment of breath to take your beauty in.

You’re beautiful.

Hoseok looks around the room to find Namjoon who stands from afar, his stare blank. To anyone, he looks as if he holds no emotions on his face, but Hoseok knows better than that.

He’s mesmerized yet at the same time, worried.

They all share the same thought, he realizes, when he finds the rest of them.

Leehyun will die tonight but what price would you have to pay in order to reach that goal?

Will you be alright?

“How long until the wedding? Will you hold a formal party or will there only be a private signing of papers?” When the question is asked, you take a glance at Hyunjin, who chuckles lightly in response.

“Our Y/N here is shyer than she seems so for her sake, we’ll keep the process private and quick.”

“And besides, the quicker the process, the faster we get to be family.” You don’t know why Leehyun agrees to Hyunjin so quickly but when he lands a hand on your shoulder, you can only think about how uncomfortable you’re feeling.

The guest at hand laughs with ignorance. “You’re lucky such a beauty will become a member of your family.”

“Yes, indeed I am.”

You discreetly glance over at Hyunjin when his father squeezes your shoulder as he continues speaking to the guest as if you were the one he was presenting as his potential wife.

It’s irritating.

Disgusting.

Hyunjin reaches over to take you back when someone calls for his attention.

“May I have a moment with you?” They ask, and Hyunjin hesitates with a glance your way, enticing a chuckle out of the guest. “Come on now, Hyunjin, I know you’re eager to marry such a beauty but you’ll get her the rest of your life so let me steal you for a moment, yeah?”

You give Hyunjin a small nod to let him know that it was alright to leave your side, and although he continues his debate in his head, he’s eventually dragged off away and out of sight from you, leaving you to converse with more guests with Leehyun by your side.

“Are you tired?” After a few more minutes, he asks you the question which causes you to look up with a small huh. Leehyun grins your way, an innocent smile, but you know better than that. “You don’t do too well with crowds, do you? I think you should take a break. Here, let me get you out of here.”

He takes your hand without hesitating another beat and your heart quickens slightly as he begins dragging you off.

You feel eyes on you, alerted, but you signal Taehyung with a shake of your head, letting him know that he shouldn’t follow you.

If you’re going to do this properly, you can’t expose your weakness just yet.

He can’t stop you. None of them can.

And so you’re led to a door with a guard just outside, opening it for you, and Taehyung watches as the door closes with you and Leehyun on the other side, left alone together.

He bites his inner lip, anxious.

.

.

.

“Water?” Leehyun offers but you shake your head politely, remaining stood by the door as he walks further in to take a seat on one of the fancy comfortable chairs in the room. “Is it draining?” He asks after taking a sip of his drink. “I know you aren’t someone who likes staying in the presence of a crowd much, especially when you’re at the center of attention.”

Why is he speaking to you so casually? As if nothing about him is wrong?

No, this is how it’s always been, hasn’t it?

“I can endure it,” you answer him and he chuckles lowly in response.

“That’s right. You’ve always been so good at enduring things.” Your finger twitches at those words so you keep them hidden behind you, keeping the beat of your heart steady. “When this is all over, we’ll finally be a family, just the way I hoped many years ago.”

Many years ago.

Those years…you never want to remember anything from it.

“You can’t leave me now, Y/N,” he says and you keep silent. “Hyunjin seems to have taken a liking to you and he’s a bit more observant than he was then but he doesn’t have to know. Everything can still be kept a secret between the two of us.”

Secret.

You never did try to conceal anything. Back then you didn’t care whether you were hurt or not. All you knew was surviving and if that meant letting others hurt you, you did what you had to do. Hyunjin was the one who found out on his own and in turn, as a sincere apology for his ignorance, he left the country and took his father along with him.

He was and has always been a sincere man, unlike his father. Even though you knew he cared for you in some ways, he never did anything to force you to do things for him. He could have done anything and everything with you if he so wanted but he didn’t because unlike everyone else around you, he was human.

He had morals he abided by and always treated the people around him with respect.

If you had spoken up about your struggles then, perhaps you would have gotten hurt less.

“Have you taken a liking to Hyunjin as well?” Leehyun tsks lightly as he stands from his seat, walking slowly over to you with a small shake of his head as if liking your soon-to-be fiancé isn’t ideal. “That’s kind of a shame. You’ve always been a good little girl, haven’t you? You’ll listen to me still, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You stare at the ground, hating every bit of this, every little nickname he gives you, that glint in his eyes, everything.

“Eyes on me when I’m talking to you,” Leehyun commands in a tone that threatens to resurface your buried memories. He holds your chin up to force your eyes to meet his. “You’re not thinking about telling Hyunjin everything, are you?”

Your brows furrow.

“He’d never believe you, you know. Why would he? I could just tell him you came onto me.”

“What?”

“Hyunjin’s my son. Why would he believe you over me?” 

He doesn't understand anything, does he? Years ago he threatened you like this as well, though years ago it didn’t matter much because you didn’t care to tell anyone about anything. You were already far gone, not able to trust strangers.

Hyunjin could have saved you sooner than he did but you kept quiet.

Once someone’s been taught to stay quiet their whole life, how do they learn to scream and shout for help?

Hyunjin came to earn your trust when he proved his good heart by leaving the country for you, but even then you remember being in a state in which nothing mattered. Whether you were hurt or not, you couldn’t care about anything but pleasing your father and becoming stronger than you were then.

You endured through everything with a blank heart, mind falling into a state you aren’t be able to recall memories from. You remained quiet for the longest time.

Still, his tone threatens to shake your core. You can feel something building up inside of you, something not so good. It’s as if all the weights you thought had disappeared are all coming back up at the same time.

Father’s face reappears in your mind, his threatening gaze so dark and cold whenever he looks your way. All you ever were to him was a puppet in the making. He wanted you to grow up loyal and obedient only to him, to become strong and powerful, and if gaining strength meant enduring through all the things others did to you, he didn’t care to bat an eye your way, even as you were thrown to the wolves.

No.

He threw you to the wolves.

So of course he never cared what the wolves did to you in return. All he cared about was you returning to his side, whether that meant alive or not. He didn’t care for your survival, for your life or death.

If you came back with strength, that just meant feeding you to more wolves until you grew strong enough on your own.

Until you returned to bite the hand that fed you.

It’s a wonder he never saw your betrayal coming.

“We should return,” you say against the silence that befalls the room, making up an excuse. “If we stay here for any longer, the guests will wonder where we’ve gone.”

You turn to put a hand on the doorknob when Leehyun’s hand takes over yours. You restrain yourself well to not flinch at his touch, only retracing your hand back silently. He watches you while your eyes remain still before you, and when he opens the door, Leehyun holds your shoulder once again.

You hate every bit of this.

“Mr. Hwang.” Not even two strides out the door and someone approaches him.

You recognize the voice and when you look up, it’s indeed Namjoon who had decided to walk up to the two of you with Jungkook by his side, acting as a bodyguard more than an important figure.

Leehyun grows surprised at the sight, not expecting a man like Namjoon to have come to London, not to mention his son’s engagement party. He speaks up, bringing him into a conversation as you stay there, silent.

You can feel Jungkook’s piercing gaze on you, a silent question on the tip of his tongue as if wondering if you were alright and if Leehyun had done anything to you.

You weren’t alright, not alright at all. He didn’t do anything but it sure feels as if he did. You hate the touch of his hand on your bare shoulders, his skin burning against you like touching the spike of a porcupine but being forced to not flinch away.

Every part of your body screams to push him away as it prickles with disgust, a tremor waiting to reveal itself but you know how to handle it, you know when not to show your weaknesses before others. You’ve been taught your whole life to conceal all that you feel after all.

What more is a few minutes?

When father was around, he instilled the practice well into your head, engraving it as if a burning metal pressed hotly against your skin, the mark there to stay forever. 

That’s what Leehyun’s touch feels like; a hot iron burn that will remain forever even if he does manage to leave you alone.

Hyunjin, where’s Hyunjin?

Hyunjin isn’t anywhere in sight so despite the fact that there are two people here who are on your side, you know they can’t do anything to rip Leehyun’s touch off you.

The voices spoken between him and Namjoon fade in and out as your eyes shake, looking around for something, anything, when you catch the sight of a hand held out to you, grabbing your attention back forcefully from your moment of frantic.

You look up to find Namjoon right before you, his hand held out expectedly as one would when meeting someone for the first time. “It’s nice to meet you, miss Y/N,” the words slip easily from his lips.

Right.

Despite the fact that the two of you were wed once upon a time, no one knows of your relationship. You were kept a secret for the longest time. Mother’s pregnancy was announced the moment the two red lines appeared on the stick, her eyes bright with delight and hope, you remember the maids saying. But her happiness and joy were forcefully ripped away from her when the doctor congratulated her on the news of carrying a baby girl.

It wasn’t what mother wanted. It wasn’t what father wanted. It wasn’t what anyone wanted.

The congratulation that left the doctor’s mouth was the very reason his tongue was cut off and later killed by the order of your mother.

She wanted to get rid of you the instant she knew of your gender but she kept you. A part of her probably hoped you’d grow up competent, prove her wrong, prove the world — father wrong, that you’d be her pride and joy and she wouldn’t have to care about your gender.

Meanwhile, father was already letting the world know that her pregnancy was a fail, that she had a miscarriage. You were deemed a mistake before he even saw you, but he allowed the only thing mother had left to keep to herself with promising words of not wanting to have anything to do with you.

The birth was risky and mother grew severely depressed, affecting even more of her health, until eventually her blooms wilted away and the last thing you saw of her was her disgusted eyes filled with hatred towards you.

You ruined her. Your very own mother.

Father was heartless but he turned you into his little puppet to hold and manipulate the strings of. You followed his every word whether willingly or not. After all, a puppet has no control over its own strings. They only do and say what the puppetmaster wants them to. You were no exception.

He kept you a secret until the end, only sharing you with the people close to him but even then, he never cared to pay you any attention unless it was to use you as a pawn.

That’s why you grew to shy away from the crowd, hating every bit of attention on you. Yoongi told you that it could never be, that no matter where you go, eyes will always follow you, it’s only inevitable. Your beauty is like the bright light for the moth, he said, meant to attract attention no matter what you do.

You held onto his words dearly and keep them still because he’s right. You will never be able to truly blend into the crowd as you wish and you let that fall to your advantage once you learned to manipulate others in the same way father had.

Like father, like daughter.

You may hate your father but no matter what anyone says, the two of you share blood and a part of him will always be instilled in your veins.

You hate every part of the truth.

“..It’s nice to meet you,” you finally say after a heartbeat, holding your hand out to shake Namjoon’s hand.

You linger a little longer, grip tighter than it should for a casual handshake, hoping, praying, in your silent cry, for him to hold onto you just as tight and yank you out of Leehyun’s grip. It’s a silent plea you don’t realize you’re doing when your ex-husband watches you attentively. Anyone would think nothing of it but you see the slight furrow between his brows, the way his mouth protrudes in just the slightest unnoticeable way.

You want him to take you away, to save you.

But before anything can happen, it’s you who forces your hand away from his first as if waking from your moment of daze, remembering what you’re doing and why you’re here.

You can’t forget your revenge for a moment of peace. Peace has to come after the storm, not before, otherwise the fight and the war will be for naught. You can’t get caught up with a small glimpse of hope. You’re already here in this room, held against Leehyun, you can’t back down now.

Revenge revenge revenge.

This is all for the revenge.

Namjoon can sense something is wrong, wondering whether you can still keep yourself upright for the sake of the mission, but when you retract from his hold, he squeezes his hand that’s held in mid-air after you left him, returning it back to his side.

“I didn’t know you were the daughter of the Grim Reaper,” he says, keeping up the font of your father still alive and striving well and not six feet under or burned into crispy ashes. He isn’t sure what you’ve done to your father’s body and he doesn’t really want to know.

Something about the relationship gives him a bit of suspicion but he can only base that on what he’s seen. What he’s heard tells him a different story. You’ve never smeared your father’s name before him, even in death, in fact, you tell him he’s treated you well throughout your life but what if all of that is a lie, just as a lot of things about you? You feign your smile before others, picking up an arrogant aura, fake the way you welcome each and every attention that falls your way when you walk into a room.

What if what you’ve told them about your father has also been a lie?

“Father has always been overprotective about my identity,” you tell him, something that sounds so believable yet so false at the same time.

What if you got rid of him not because you were “bored” but because you were forced to? Because that was the only way to freedom you’d ever earn? Because there was no other choice? What if everything about you in those three years they spent with you were all nothing but lies?

No. You’ve always been truthful and honest.

He can still remember looking into your eyes and always seeing the sincerity in them, how nothing in this world felt real except the sincere eyes that you always gave him. He didn’t believe in anything but your eyes were the only thing he knew that could never lie to him. Anything else, anyone else would but you…you never lied to him.

Yet as he stands here now, he thinks that perhaps he had been naive all along. There was always a part of you that you’d hide from them after all, no matter how much they tried to edge you on, reminding you that they loved and cared for every part of you so that you would be willing to open up. They shared their secrets, their deepest insecurities with you. But before he could ever cut open your heart and see what was inside, he broke the ties between you and the rest, divorcing you all too soon.

“That reminds me,” you look at him with a small smile, as if you were that shy little girl who always hid behind him whenever strangers were to try a spark a conversation with you, “I hope you can still keep this a secret. The people here don’t truly know of my identity but because you’re from Korea, it’s a whole different story. So for the sake of my father’s wrath and to conceal his kind heart, I ask that you not mention any part of meeting me and announce it to the world.”

What if the reason your father kept your identity a secret is not because he loves you so dearly but because he hates everything about you?

He wants to doubt the sincerity you held for him in those three years he cared for you. Still, Namjoon says, “Of course. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.” When you give him a small bow of a nod as a way to thank him, you don’t allow your head to look back up so he’s left with only seeing your hair which conceals any emotions on your face.

You suddenly feel so small, as if the acting is beginning to take a toll on you and you’re starting to believe in this fantasy. As if Namjoon indeed doesn’t know you, as if you’re still that hopeless, pure little girl who’s been shut out from the world, as if you will indeed marry into the Hwangs and be trapped in a cage with the keys lost to the sea.

You wish Mingyu was here so that his presence can calm your racing heartbeat. You wish you could hear him with an intercom connecting his voice to your ears. You wish he could remind you to breathe, that you needn’t worry because he’s watching every step you make, that if anyone were to put you in harm’s way, Dasom’s bullet will pierce right into the skull of their heads.

You want to feel Dasom’s sniper watching you, you wish Yuna’s lingering gaze never left, and plunge yourself into drinking all of Yeonjun’s tea to end all the nerves that are screaming at you to break away from Leehyun’s hold.

To breathe.

To run away and find your safe place; in your Reaper’s safehold.

But you can’t because you’ve shut them out, told them to not interfere with your plans, to not stop you no matter what happens.

You don’t realize the Reapers are still watching you through Bangtan’s gaze, still ignorant to the fact that Mingyu had walked into their headquarters and dropped his head before Namjoon, asking them to protect you until the end, to save you if necessary. You don’t realize their protectiveness has been asked of to be replaced by Bangtan.

You don’t see Jungkook’s watchful gaze on you while Namjoon has Leehyun distracted in a conversation that falls deaf to his ears, careful in making sure Leehyun doesn’t mistake his watchful gaze on you and hide you away in response.

You don’t see the way the corner of Jungkook’s lip twitches, or the way he tries not to fiddle with his fingers in anxious thought of how this night will end but fails miserably. You don’t realize Jimin’s anger when he sees you held against Leehyun, standing by and watching with Yoongi as they recall the voices of conversations exchanged between you and Leehyun through Taehyung’s hidden mic.

You don’t see the way Taehyung rushes into the crowd, eyes scanning for a familiar figure to force him to return to your side otherwise he may snap and ruin the plan you so forced your Reapers away for.

But something goes wrong when he catches sight of the said man he placed his trust in to keep you safe. Hyunjin stands with a lower subordinate by his side, who whispers unheard words into his ear. Something’s wrong when he feels Taehyung’s gaze on him and looks up, his eyes hardening with a warning on the tip of his tongue.

Taehyung feels his mouth drying and when he snaps his head back at where you should be standing with Leehyun, Namjoon and Jungkook, but all that’s left are Namjoon and Jungkook without the other two figures in sight.

His eyes scan around the area, flashing with alarm as the words of Mingyu repeat in his head; “Don’t ever leave her side, no matter what. Don’t ever leave her alone with Leehyun.”

He knows you more than Taehyung does, probably knows every little secret you hold dearly within the thick walls you’ve built around yourself. He’s witnessed what you’ve been through, understands your responses and how to react to them, knows how to deal with every situation he’s faced with.

Taehyung doesn’t know anything. He has a clue but clues are useless and right now you’re missing, out of sight, and he feels as if the storm is coming sooner than it should. At a fast pace at that.

“Where’s Y/N?” He quickly asks the two boys who were last seen with her. The big boss gestures to two doors that lead away from the room where the party is held and grows irritated because he remembers all the doors in this house during his time here and that door does not lead to a private room. That room leads to a hallway into the unknown. “Why would you leave her out of your sight? I look away for one second to find Hyunjin and—”

“She asked us to let her go,” Jungkook cuts him off, his brows furrowed as he nips at his lower lip, a habit he does often when he’s anxious. “When Leehyun began to lead her away, she shook her head when we tried to stop him.”

They’re not supposed to stop you, they’re not supposed to do anything when you don’t give an order to. This is your revenge after all, your mission, so anything you say takes top priority but for once Taehyung wishes they hadn’t listened to your stupid demands and stopped you right then and there.

He understands Mingyu’s dilemma to a certain extent now. He might not know everything but he knows enough to understand that your underboss had every right to worry.

But right now he doesn’t have time to worry, to snap at the boys for letting you go. Right now he needs to find you and fix the situation before anything gets out of control.

“They’re filing in,” Hoseok’s voice walks into the intercom. Taehyung looks around to find him somewhere beside Seokjin, his voice discreet as if he were conversing in a friendly conversation with Seokjin rather than all of them. He doesn’t approach them for suspicions of their activity. “There are more of them now than there were minutes ago.”

The only guards, besides a few of them to avoid suspicion, should be Hyunjin’s people. He guesses this was what was exchanged between Hyunjin and the person beside him then.

Something’s definitely out of place.

Taehyung looks across the room to find Hyunjin making his way towards in, eyes meeting his as he speaks. “They’ve caught onto us.”

Four words simple enough to bring a shuddering rain crawling against their skin.

Namjoon keeps calm like the leader he is, knowing how to deal with situations like this due to experience. He can feel their gazes on him once the dreaded words leave Hyunjin’s lips, looking towards their alpha leader to give them direction and lead them to do what he thinks would save them from the situation. 

He turns to Taehyung and speaks. “Find another way in that leads through those doors and take Yoongi with you.”

.

.

.

“Do you know what I hate the most in this world?” Leehyun speaks calmly under the flickering light of the cold basement where he led you to after following a maze you probably won’t be able to remember the way of. The men he walked past stand just outside the door, leaving you alone with him once again. 

But this time there’s no one you can run to if something goes wrong, there’s no safety in knowing just outside the doors, you can cry for help and the crowd will look towards your call, glaring confused stares at Leehyun’s way.

It reminds you of a place you haven’t been to in a long, long time; the White Room.

Where you were held against your will, crying and begging for someone to help but the only people who stood outside were the guards who fell deaf to your cries. Even if the doors didn’t keep your screams in, you know they wouldn’t have helped you either.

It’s a bit different though, in lots of ways. This room is darker, lit up only by a flickering lightbulb held up by a string just above your head. You aren’t alone either, the perpetrator is here with you, keeping his watchful gaze on you, and you’re held bound by itchy ropes that are so bulky any movement against them forces prickling needles into your skin, sat on a lone wooden chair.

It’s cold though, in the same way the White Room had always been.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I? You’re a smart girl, go on and repeat those words to me,” Leehyun prompts you and to anyone, it sounds as if he were speaking to someone precious, a gentle nudge towards a child who needs to be reminded of the rules she just broke while remaining stern. You hate how he treats you.

Still, you chant out the words as if under a spell. You can’t ignore him for some reason, as if remembering how you were with him years ago, unable to disobey anything that he says or does. Your body remembers even if your mind tries to forget.

“When people touch the things that belong to you.” It tastes bitter against your mouth but you give him nothing to read on your expressionless face.

Just as they always were years ago.

“That’s right,” Leehyun nods. He crosses his arms against his chest. “So what happened?”

“I held Mr. Kim’s hand.”

“And?”

“I let him steal my attention.”

“And?”

“...” You hesitate for a moment, just a split moment because you know Leehyun hates it when people don’t answer him right away. “I allowed you to fall into my foolish traps. Made you believe in my lies and hid behind the protection of your very own son.”

“My very own son.” You aren’t sure the exact moment when he realized it but perhaps in the process of thinking you held him wrapped around your finger, he was the one who had control of everything. You were foolish to think you could easily execute your plans without any mishaps. “Did you come to London in the hopes of taking your revenge on me?” He asks. “Are you here to kill me?”

The anxiety is felt clearly along your body. You aren’t sure why you’re like this when you thought you’ve trained yourself well enough to face your opponents but you guess trauma will always return to you and remind you of how you dealt with things no matter how much time has passed. You’ve returned to the doll that you were before father died.

At this moment right here, you’re the same person you were when you were with Leehyun years ago; obedient, robotic, dull, and blank.

Habits are scary.

“..Would it upset you if I said yes?” But unlike those times, the emotions are clear and you’re unable to repress them in the way your body did then. You can feel the heavy weight sitting on your chest, something constricting your airway in order to make it harder to breathe, and the slight little trembles against your body which you’ve always done so well to hide.

He laughs and you remain still. “What happened to your father? Did you get rid of him?” He asks rather than answering your question. He knows your answer and you know his. “You hold your head up high now, flirt easily, acting arrogant and mighty.”

“I killed him,” you answer fluently.

He laughs again, this time with a bit of a surprise, as if he can’t believe the girl he knew then would have been capable of killing her own father. You always followed your father’s words as if they were law, never going against him no matter what he asks of you, like a trained puppet. When did you escape from those strings? When did you gather the courage to leave?

Or perhaps you were the one playing with his strings all along, pretending to be a good little doll for the sake of catching him off guard and killing him when he least expects it.

“I see,” Leehyun nods, his laugh fading away as he thinks about it. If you’re capable of killing your father, a ruthless and merciless man, then you’re capable of killing him. Still, Leehyun wants to see your skills and wants to witness just how powerful you’ve become.

He takes three long steps back, arms uncrossing to be held behind him, eyes watchful as he calls for his men to come in. Ten muscular men walk in ready at the command of their boss while you remain sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, limps bound by strong ropes that cut through your skin whenever you make even the slightest movement.

“Why don’t you show me your skills then, sweetheart? I want to see how this little girl could have possibly taken down the Grim Reaper.”

It isn’t a request, it’s an order.

And when the men draw in on you, you have no other choice but to comply with Leehyun and give him a show.

You force your body back to push the chair onto the hard floor, causing it to collide and break into pieces, allowing your body to no longer be bound by the chair.

Someone swings a weapon your way but you duck right on time, headbutting him the second you’re given the chance. Someone else reaches for your arm and forces you to jump, you manipulate your body to fall against another man as you kick your feet forward at the man who wanted to take your arm.

Your hairpin falls from your hair, forcing the sight of your clear vision to fall a bit hazy, distracted by strands of hair, but you pay it no mind as you snatch the hairpin from the floor with your teeth, getting a bit of your hair in between. Leehyun marvels at how it turns into a sharp weapon of some sort.

Your body moves fluidly like the leaves against the wind, like the tide meets the beach, crashing against the enemies, manipulating every movement while using his men at your disposal. 

He grows irritated at how weak they are against a smaller figure, a girl, who still has her hands and legs tied.

You use the sharpness of your hairpin to take the binds off your ankles when you get the chance, allowing your feet to then kick freely at whoever tries to come at you. They don’t stand a chance, and Leehyun realizes the person your father tried so hard to train is now laughing back at him.

He called you useless, weak, incompetent, but the person he sees now is anything but.

How had your father thrown such a sparkling gem away without knowing your potential? In those years he knew of you, you held some skills your father forced you to take but now he realizes a lot of things you’ve been hiding in those years. Even back then when you were less skilled than you are now, you did everything your father asked of you perfectly. Whatever mission he asked of you, you finished it and came back in one piece. Whatever person he asked you to take down, you returned just as well.

Your father created a monster.

A beautiful, powerful monster.

Did he ever realize your strength before he died by your hands?

When his men lay dead on the floor, your chest heaves hard as you stand in the middle, a cut on your face, a long gash along your leg, and although you should be falling down exhausted, you remain standing as you stare down at him with eyes that could very well belong to a beast.

You still have your hands tied behind your back, hairpin held against your teeth.

Perhaps this is your way of showing him your strength has yet to reach its maximum level.

For a moment, he’s genuinely afraid of the one before him. And when you force yourself to hurl at him, he doesn’t have time to think before the sharp hairpin stabs him right against his side, allowing a cry of pain to leave his lips.

You don’t keep the hairpin in, forcing it out because you know pressure against a wound helps to keep the blood in. You want it out.

When you see Leehyun’s legs giving out, you take that opportunity to kick the doorknob off the door with a harsh and forceful kick, opening it with a loud bang, and without a moment of hesitation, you run and run, trying to remember the path Leehyun took when he brought you in here.

Along the run, you take a big leap, jumping to allow your hands to rope from underneath your legs in order to be held before you rather than behind. You take the knife that had been hidden under your now torn dress, cutting the stingy rope and returning the hairpin to hold your hair back in place.

Your dash is mad while your eyes frantically look around, trying to calculate every movement, recalling the memories of what you saw when you followed Leehyun down here. You can hear the thunder of Leehyun’s feet just behind you and know that getting lost will risk you your life.

You can’t die now, not yet. You still have people to kill and although you told Hoseok dying is trivial and you don’t care how or by who, you don’t wish to die at the hands of a predator. Not here, not in the maze of his basement. 

So you allow your brain to work, eyes snapping at every new corner that has a fork in the road, taking the turn you think you remember until eventually, you hear a call. Two calls.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N, where are you?!”

It’s Taehyung and Yoongi.

You never thought you’d ever say that you would be relieved to hear the voices of your ex-lovers again but here you are, body almost giving in at just the sound of their voices. But you know better than that. You know you aren’t safe just yet.

Luckily your brain hadn’t failed you and luckily you find the familiar silhouettes of your ex-lovers as you run and run, unable to slow down at any given moment. For now, they are your safety net, for now, you aren’t alone.

You run towards the warmth of their presence, letting out a breath of relief, when a hand snatches your hair and pulls you clean off your feet.

You let out your first yelp of pain as you go down and before Taehyung and Yoongi can take another step forward, you feel the head of a gun to your temple and watch as they visibly freeze on the spot.

The sight of you is alarming; the tight straps of your dress fallen over your shoulder, one of them snapped into two, a cut on your cheek, disheveled hair, the skirt of your dress torn to reveal your legs where one of them has a gash along your skin. You ran without shoes, heels long forgotten somewhere along the line, the soles of your feet shattered in cuts and swollen red.

You wince at Leehyun’s forceful fistful of your hair, teeth clenching tightly, and the two before you almost wince along with you.

“Should I just end it here?” Leehyun says, his lips so close to your ear it brings a chill down your body. You hate how cold it is here. “You came to kill me, didn’t you? So why don’t I bring you along to hell with me? We belong together after all. You’re mine.”

You scoff at those words, shaking your head in order to keep his lips away from your ear but he forces you back in an instant. “You’re sick,” you spit his way. “I was and will never be yours.”

“Darling, what did I say about talking back?” He grits his teeth as he says so, suppressing a fit of anger that takes in the form of his ripping your hair. You let out a strangled noise that causes the two the urge to do anything to take you away but they know one slight movement can potentially have the trigger pulled and they can’t risk that.

“You were always a good little girl,” Leehyun says, still trying to keep this relationship sane. “What happened to that, huh? You were mine to hold and do anything to. Why can’t you obey me in the way you had then?” He turns his attention to Taehyung as if recalling something, eyes flashing with anger and resentment towards the younger lad. “If it hadn’t been for your little bodyguard and Hyunjin, I would’ve had my way with you long ago.”

“That’s precisely why I never left her alone,” Taehyung grits out, eyes hardening as he levels his glare down at him.

“She’s mine to own, not yours.”

“She’s not a possession for you to make claims to.” A voice reaches them from the back and you can physically feel Leehyun freeze up against your back when a click is heard. Hoseok holds his gun right at the back of his head, no amount of hesitation in his eyes were Leehyun to do anything to you. “Get your hands off her,” he demands in a threatening growl and it almost triggers some lost memory your past self had once held so dearly to her heart but you do well to repress it back.

Someone else appears from the shadows; Hyunjin. He takes a step from behind Taehyung and Yoongi, a gun leveling his father’s way while the rest of them follow along, completely trapping Leehyun.

“Ah..” He realizes his defeat and lets the grip on your hair go, causing the tightness to finally release from his hold.

Hoseok watches as you scramble to your feet, a little limp in your legs taking hold when you stand either from the weakness or the gash, or both. Yoongi helps you stand tall and he hates the sight he sees before him. You look terrible.

It’s fortunate they got here in time otherwise Hoseok would never forgive himself. He remembered the second Taehyung realized the change in the air, Hoseok’s heartbeat accelerated hard against his chest, breath shortening, and before Seokjin can realize the change in him, he remembered to remain calm and not let the situation take the best of him.

He was angry at the things he heard through the device Taehyung held hidden against his clothes while with you in person, hated every moment Hoseok had to sit there, listening to the vile things Leehyun said and your voice whispered in turn, feigning interest. If he were in Taehyung’s place, he knows he would have never been able to hold restrain.

Perhaps it was best letting Taehyung go after all. For a moment he had been afraid, they all were, because they know how Taehyung is with people. He doesn’t like the crowd, avoids parties, and prefers his own personal space. As a hacker, he had no reason to leave his lab but it was because his face was less known to the public that forced him to take up the mission of being by your side.

The rest of them were more at risk of being found out, their faces more known whereas Taehyung was a secret.

He did a better job than Hoseok expected. Even through the intercom, he could feel Taehyung’s frustration and anger building up the longer he stayed by your side having to witness everything firsthand. He restrained himself even though Hoseok could tell he wanted to punch Leehyun many times, and during moments when the two of you were left alone in the guest room, Taehyung held himself together as he saw you. 

You were the victim but you held onto yourself well, projecting a font that doesn’t slip as easily as his anger does.

At night it’s a bit easier to see your more vulnerable side but even then you hold yourself together. In your mindless state, you silently yearn for a familiar hold only your Reapers can provide.

Hoseok wonders why you never cry for help, why you never scream or shout. Even in the years he was with you, you cried silently as if afraid a peep of sound will have punishment forced upon you. He hates your silence.

Hyunjin offers his gun to you but you shake your head, taking ahold of your knife instead.

Hoseok wants to give Leehyun a good, solid punch in the face for all the things he’s done to you but he knows he can’t do that. This is your fight after all, your battle, and it’s up to you whether you want to kill Leehyun with your own hands or if you want to ask Hyunjin to do the honors instead.

He’s in no place to kill him himself. So Hoseok keeps his gun pointed at the man, eyes watchful as they give you space.

You’re in control.

When you look at Leehyun, the old man’s eyes are silently begging for help, for your mercy, but you can only laugh at those words echoing into your ears.

“It will do well for you to apologize now,” you say into the silence, offering him a false chance. “Why don’t you apologize, Mr. Hwang?”

His eyes tell you he’d rather fall off a bridge and into a hot active volcano than level himself below you and ask for your forgiveness. He gets off power after all, and if that’s taken away from him, he’ll grow angry and throw a tantrum like a child would if they couldn’t get what they wanted.

He knows you won’t give him your forgiveness and he knows he will die anyway. That’s how this world works. Once you have bullets on the verge of piercing through your skull, you have no chance left to run no matter how much you beg.

But he falls shameless either way, in hysteria, because fear of death takes priority over the shameful feeling of apologizing to someone younger than you. He falls to the floor, crawling on his knees, begging for mercy with a chant that repeats again and again in your ears like a mantra.

You stare down at him as he worships the ground you stand on, head bowed forward in a shameless position, pleading and begging for you to spare his life. He has no shame, throwing away all his dignity to bow to you like a god in front of his son and Bangtan.

“Please Y/N. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Please, I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Why is that flashing in your thoughts right now? The sight of you leaning your head down in a shameless manner, the night you tore the ring off your finger?

Namjoon falls into your line of sight. He watches the scene unfold silently and you wonder what he’s thinking about. This is the first time you’ve had someone bowing and pleading before you and you feel absolutely no sympathy for him. But even you understand the difference this situation is from yours.

You had no idea what you were apologizing for because you had nothing to apologize for. Nothing was your fault yet you felt like everything was your fault. But for Leehyun? He has no idea what he’s apologizing for because he has everything to apologize for.

Everything is his fault yet you know he feels as if nothing is his fault.

It irritates you.

You hate the sound of his begging, the annoying voice, those annoying words that repeat over and over again without any source of sincerity behind them.

“You…you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you?” You ask the pitiful man before you, anger and ire building up. You feel like a ticking bomb that will explode at any second. “You’ve never shown me any mercy so why should I show you mercy?”

“Th-that’s because..” Leehyun looks up, frantically searching for an answer when something pops into his head, and the begging stops as his eyes twist into something sinister. You’ve seen that before, an expression you’ve met and encountered with so many people throughout your years of surviving in this world. “That’s because you never stopped me,” he says and you blink at him, brows knitting.

“..What?”

He sits up as if a realization had hit him, his eyes sick and dark while the boys keep their eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash, guns still readily pointed at him.

“That’s right, you..you never stopped me so why is any of this my fault? Did you ever beg me to stop? Did you ever scream for help? Now that I think about it, you must’ve liked it, didn’t you? You enjoyed it just as much as I did. You never went to your father for help, you never told anyone anything about the situation. If you really hated it, you would have done something but you didn’t.”

Ah, he’s really doing this. Trying to twist the situation, trying to gaslight you, even though he knows he only chose you as a victim because you wouldn’t do anything to go against him.

A silent little doll who only listened to the words of her father. If your father tells you to fight back, you’d do it. And if your father tells you to endure it, you’d let others hurt you. Leehyun was just a coward who wanted someone who would listen to his words without fighting back and you were the victim he preyed on.

A silent doll whose voice box was broken, unable to scream for help. He used that to his disposal.

“No one would believe you,” you hear his voice echo repeatedly in your head, the same words coming in and out in every situation he placed you in. If you had emotions, if you wanted to scream for help, he’d remind you over and over again that he could just manipulate the situation into letting others believe you came onto him instead, that you were a dirty little slut who would go for anyone.

You never called for help.

You didn’t care to call for help because you didn’t know how to call for help.

In the moment when you’re with him, your body felt nothing, lifeless, a corpse of some sort, the socket of your eyes void of light as if you weren’t human at all. But even then you understood to some extent that Hyunjin would believe you. He was the only one who would believe you, were you to open your mouth and let the words ring out.

You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you, but you shared a connection with how powerless the both of you were against your fathers, both forced into a position that almost required you to fall bound into an engagement. 

Hyunjin always treated you kindly no matter what. He never forced you to do anything, never stopped looking out for you. Your suspicion of his kindness was confirmed when he moved away with his father, leaving the country for you.

If you knew how to speak then, you would have told him “thank you” and you would have accepted the kindness and warmth he always wanted to provide you with.

“When you decide to let your thorns be known to the world, I hope you can come after my father and kill him yourself. I will wait for you until then.”

He was kind to the end, prepared at any moment to kill his father for your sake, for his sake, for both your sakes.

As if understanding just how sick and manipulative his father is, Hyunjin steps up with fierce anger flashing in his eyes, ready to tear his father down. But you stop with a look, shaking your head, telling him in your silent manner that he doesn’t have to fight his father for your sake.

“Come on, Y/N,” Leehyun takes a step forward, approaching you as the others fit into a defending stance in an instant, watching him closely without doing anything unless you signaled otherwise.

This is your fight, you’ve told them, and they aren’t allowed to meddle unless you say so.

Leehyun holds a hand out to your face, his finger gently grazing against the skin of your cheek while you stand there, not doing anything.

“Be a good girl, won’t you? Tell your people to leave. We’re fine, aren’t we? If you’re unsatisfied with something, all you have to do is tell me and I’ll fix it. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. You’re my obedient little girl, aren’t you…princess?”

Princess.

As if on cue just by that small little nickname, your pupils dilate and something flashes before your eyes, the buried memories slowly but surely resurfacing back into your mind.

“Hello there. You’re very pretty, aren’t you?” An older gentleman who looks the same age as your father watches you with eyes that confuse you a bit. You don’t like it but who are you to act up?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang sir,” you bow your head before him in a respectful manner, polite and quiet.

“Yes…it is indeed.” He touches your hand in a gentle manner and brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back with eyes never leaving your face.

It’s weird. You feel strange.

Not the good kind of strange. Not at all.

“..Sir?”

“Keep calling me that,” he grins as he pats the top of your head with his other hand. “I quite like you calling me sir.”

“Sir,” you take a step back, retreating your hand, “your son and I–”

“No one has to know,” he says as he grabs your hand again with a little more force this time. The smile he gives you causes you to stare in slight horror, his words echoing in your head.

No one has to know.

No one has to know.

Who are you to refute that? Not when you’re taking a glance at your father and he does nothing to approach you from where he stands. You know he can see Leehyun and you know he knows what’s going on. 

He does nothing to move and tell you to get away from the man. Instead, he only looks away as if he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care one bit.

‘Endure it,’ you hear the words without it needing to be said aloud, so you turn back to Leehyun with obedient eyes, no longer trying to force your hand away, and letting him in.

If father doesn’t care, why should you?

“What a good girl you are. You’ll never do anything to go against me, will you?”

“Such a good little princess.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“If you tell anyone about this, no one will believe you, you know that?” Whether Hyunjin cares or not does not matter. Nothing matters.

Just endure it.

Endure it.

“Does your father even love you? That’s alright, I can share my love with you instead.”

“Do you let Hyunjin hold you like this too?”

“Hyunjin doesn’t hold me like this.” Hyunjin doesn’t dare to do anything to hurt you. Even then you aren’t sure how to trust him. He shows you goodness by not doing anything to you but how do you trust when trusting only leads to your break?

“Of course he doesn’t. If he does, you’ll let me know, right?”

“...Yes sir.”

Endure it. Obey his words. Keep quiet. Keep quiet.

Quietquietquiet.

“What a good girl.”

“Sir-”

“It’s alright, just a little longer.”

Stop.

Stop it.

Stop it all.

Something shakes your core, your stability, your foundation, and your emotions. And all of a sudden, you feel something you’ve never felt before. All the emotions spiraling into one single wave, rushing down your body, building up so strongly and forcibly you tremble on sight, knife stabbing into his skin without warning.

Leehyun shouts in pain at the sudden intrusive pierce and when his hand reaches out to force you away, you pin him down by the legs, ignoring the pain shooting up on one side as if possessed by some sort of demon.

The boys all watch in horror when you carve your knife into Leehyun’s skin like a force working on its own, eyes staring widely with sealed lips like a silent killer who holds no emotion for her victims as the knife goes in and out. In and out. In and out. 

And it isn’t you anymore.

It isn’t you.

Die die die die die! Your thoughts repeat over and over and over. You hear his scream loud and clear as your arms work the tool into his body, the blood oozing out and painting your cheeks, your dress, your thighs, everywhere. It’s like a scene straight out of a horror movie as the rest of them watch on, eyes widened in shock at the sight of your merciless self stabbing the man even as he no longer cries and lays on the floor, clearly already dead.

The guns point down, arms releasing tension on them but they can’t take their eyes off you.

You thought you’d kill him slowly and painfully, so he can feel every little pain with his eyes wide open. You thought you’d give him a slow death, one where he’d suffer the most in the same way he had hurt you and made you suffer and endure.

But your body acts impulsively as the memories resurface and all you can do is continue on the action until someone has to rip your arm away, forcing your body off the man with the knife thrown far away from your grasp.

“Y/N, stop.”

You push Hoseok’s hands away, head spinning, eyes falling into a blur and it seems as if everyone in this room is against you and is out to harm you. Your mind falls clouded as the world falls all at once, emotions becoming unstable and suddenly you know you’re panicking.

Tremblingtremblingtrembling.

Where’s Mingyu?

Yuna?

Where are the Reapers? Why aren’t they here?

It’s hard to breathe. Can you breathe? Ah, how do you breathe again?

The memories horrify you as they fall back vividly and suddenly you remember all the times when you were left tortured as a kid, screaming, looking around for help but no one makes a move. No one helps no matter how hard you cried and begged.

No one’s on your side.

No one’s on your side.

Endure it, they tell you. You have to endure it all and everything will be okay. You just have to…you just have to endure it.

“Y/N!” Someone grabs ahold of both your shoulders forcefully.

“Y/N!” Seokjin shouted, ripping you from your state of panic.

Seokjin, it’s Seokjin.

You’re safe with Seokjin.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he repeats in a soft, soft whisper. Enough for you to hear. “It’s alright, Y/N, you’re safe now. No one’s going to harm you, I’m right here. Breathe, just focus on breathing, don’t focus on anything else right now.”

Seokjin.

As your vision narrows in on him, his face clearer with each blink you make, you remember the familiar face of your eldest lover.

Seokjin’s safe…right? He loved you once.

He loved you once.

Ah, but he left you too, just like everyone else in your life. But you don’t really have a choice, do you? He’s the only one in your sight, the only one safe for now.

With trembling hands, you grab onto his white dress shirt, the blood on your hands dirtying it with red as you look up at him with pleading eyes, and two soft, barely audible words escape your lips.

“..Save me.”

Your eyes turn blank, dull, a void walking right in, and the shaking disappears as you stare at nothing before you, as if your soul has just been snatched away from your body, the light in your eyes no longer in sight.

“Y/N?” Seokjin calls your name cautiously but you don’t hear him. You can’t hear anyone, not even yourself as your body falls into a state of void.

You feel nothing, like a lifeless corpse living in the body of a human.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the hurting

— summary: you can break something in two seconds but it will take forever to heal

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.3k

— warnings: nothing too bad here, just more descriptive and less dialogue

— PART 14 / previous post / masterpost

“Y/N?” Seokjin calls again but this time you put a hand behind you, palm meeting the cold floor, and scoot off Leehyun’s body as if the touch that you feel against your face is causing your body to scream at you and turn away. He realizes that even in your current state, there is an underlying fright you feel towards his touch.

And perhaps it isn’t particularly his touch. It isn’t. Because when you scoot back and hit the foot of Hyunjin, they see you flinch. You stop moving to do anything, sitting still as if giving up, as if a fear has settled against you in which moving any more will bring you down a path that will cause you more grief and pain.

Hoseok had been frightened for a moment, afraid he had done something wrong when he reached out to you and you pushed him away while accepting Seokjin instead. But seeing you now, perhaps what you needed was just a moment of peace, someone to be put in your line of sight, someone familiar.

You asked Seokjin to save you, not from Leehyun because he’s already dead, but the fear of the unknown, the things that frighten you the most, the things only you truly know of, and as if your body couldn’t handle any more stress, it has forced you into a state where you can feel nothing.

“I’ll take care of upstairs,” Hyunjin states into the dead silence that had walked in. He doesn’t want to leave you but with how you are now, he knows anyone who reaches out to you will just cause your body more distress. If he can’t help here, he can help elsewhere.

Namjoon sends him a thankful nod before he takes off, footsteps hurried as they rush away. 

“Call Mingyu, let the Reapers know what happened,” the boss gives an order to which Jimin instantly reaches for his phone. You remain seated on the floor, staring blankly at nothing before you and Namjoon kneels down to take his blazer off to drape it around your shoulders, careful in his approach and making sure he doesn’t touch you in the slightest. He catches the sight of the gash on your leg, a small furrow in his brows at another scar that crawls up your right leg. Wherever you got that from, he’s sure that must have hurt but for now, you need medical attention on the one you’ve just received. 

Unfortunately, none of them can touch you now. You may look compliant but something tells him if any of them were to try, you’ll only be forced into a state that will have the horrifying memories crawl back up.

He can’t have that.

When he looks over your head to find Seokjin still watching over you, the two of them share a glance of conflicting eyes, unsure of what to think about all of this.

Seokjin can see the cuts you received from whatever happened during your lone moment with Leehyun. The guy must have had men coming at you, forcing you to fight against them on your own. He sees the red marks wrapped around your wrists and ankles, realizing Leehyun must have tied you up at some point.

Did you fight with your limps bounded by the ropes? From the looks of it, they must’ve been the really painful ones, the ones that hurt easily at even the slightest movement in order to prevent any sort of escape. Even under the makeup, he can see how tired you are, drained, as your eyes slowly blink.

You must want to sleep, your body desiring rest after a long, frightful day, yet at the same time you remain alert as if aware there are people around you and because of that, you can’t let your guard down just yet. Not until the alarms against your body finally disappears.

Ten years.

Ten years of your disappearance and here you are before them, left broken and tattered, the life of struggle so clear on your face. You’ve found people to remain loyal by your side but even then there will always be a part of you, a voice in your head that warns you to never trust again, that you can’t unless you want to live. To survive.

Is this all their doing? Does it have to do with something much darker? Much deeper? Or maybe it’s both.

Seokjin can only guess because you’d never tell them otherwise. He could try and ask your Reapers but with how deep their loyalty flows, he doubts they’d give him an answer either. And perhaps they don’t even have all the answers that will satisfy his questions. No matter who tries to understand you, there will always be no one close enough to understand everything about you. There will always be a part of you that you keep a secret.

There are questions swarming in his head, one too many to count. Because once a question has been made, there will always be varying questions that follow that, and then others that follow those ones.

Yet all of them begin with one thing; why did you kill your father?

There’s something more to what you’re telling, he’s sure of it. No one would kill their father just because they were bored. Even if something did happen to you to cause you to no longer feel any emotions, he knows you wouldn’t just kill your father just because it was convenient. You never desired power as much as the people Seokjin can name so it can’t be for the sake of that. Perhaps power helped, surely it did, but there’s something else there that he can only guess the answer to.

Yet he doesn’t dare to.

Mingyu comes in a minute later with Dasom along his side, and in an instant she’s right by your side, forcing Namjoon and Seokjin to make space for you.

They see the way Mingyu stands back, just observing and letting Dasom be the sole person to approach you. So if even Mingyu refuses to approach you now, they know it must definitely be men your body calls alarms to. All of this is Leehyun’s fault. The things he did, they can only imagine, but it must’ve been that bad if your body has forced you into this state and only allowing familiar feminine hands to touch you.

“Boss?” Dasom calls for you, her hand reaching out to you carefully as the rest of them watch with hawk eyes. When she holds your face and you do nothing to push her away, she takes it as permission for her to touch you. With a thumb lightly brushing against your cheek, Dasom frowns at the sight of the cut on your skin. “I’m here now,” she assures with gentle words. “If anything stings, if you can’t take the pain, just tug on my shirt, yeah?” She takes your hand so you can feel the hem of her shirt, letting your fingers take hold of it.

She leaves you be after a heartbeat, eyes scanning over your body, and begins to tend to your injuries with light approaches to make sure she doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Dasom doesn’t have the medical skills like that of a doctor but she’s picked up some knowledge ever since you first showed signs of being in this familiar state.

Mingyu gave her some basic tips, Yeonjun guiding her through, and for some time it had been only her and Yuna who could touch you and tend to you when you’re like this. Even sending you to a female doctor didn’t help because they had to be female, yes, but they also had to be people you were familiar with.

You’re smart, IQ excelling better than the average human, so even in this state, you understand whose hands are familiar and whose hands are foreign. That’s why when Lisa walked into your life and you allowed her heart to turn to you, Mingyu didn’t hesitate to let her join the team. She was younger but knowledgeable, a medic your father forced into this life.

“There.” Dasom pats the white bandage around your leg once she finishes and takes your hand which remains on the hem of her shirt. You tugged on it at least two times, obeying and compliant, and she gives you a small squeeze of care. “We’ll have Lisa look after you when we get back to the hotel, yeah? When do you want to return, boss?”

When they watch you, they hadn’t expected you’d reply but you do, lips prying open with a single word uttered out; “..home.”

It’s small, quiet, but they hear it.

You want to return home, home to where Korea is, where headquarter lies, where your mansion remains upstanding and tall. Home in the comfort of safety and no one has to look in otherwise the Reapers will take care of them. Home where the rest of them are, watching over you so you don’t have to worry about anything else.

“Alright boss, we’ll go home soon.”

“Home.” You tug at her shirt, a little more forceful than when you were tugging at them when her tending to you had stung. You shake your head, the features on your face marking with extreme distress. You don’t like the word soon. You’d rather go home now. “Home.”

It’s the only word you can say but Dasom understands. She understands your desperation in wanting to let her know that going home soon isn’t what you want to do. You want to go home now.

“Okay, okay,” she complies because there’s no other choice, not when they want your heart to beat as steady as possible. “Okay, we’ll go home. We’ll go home.”

Dasom presses a hand to the back of your head, bringing you forward to lean against the warmth of her hold. You let her touch you, let her hold you, and when your face is turned away and hidden against her shoulder, she injects something into your arm. In just mere seconds, your body relaxes and falls limply against her body.

Luckily Yeonjun came prepared to give you a serum that would force you into sleep. In this way, you won’t have to worry about anything. In this way, your body doesn’t have to go through any more stress than it already has.

When Dasom stands up with you held in her arms, she takes a moment to meet her underboss’s eyes first. Mingyu gives her a brief nod, appreciative of her presence and work before the both of them turn towards Bangtan.

“Thank you for upholding your promise,” Mingyu says and they both bow their heads before them.

Namjoon responds with only a nod, unsure of what else to say in this situation but his words aren’t needed when they turn, walking away without another word, leaving the rest of them to watch in silence.

It’s strange how quiet Mingyu is. He usually doesn’t say much in their presence, but it’s odd in the way that he isn’t saying anything about you or to you. He doesn’t react anything differently, his eyes don’t widen, he doesn’t shout at them for their failed part in not leaving you alone with Leehyun, nor does he even approach you with frantic worry. He cares for you deeply, that’s something they cannot refute, but for someone who cares for another as much as Mingyu does, his reaction is rather strange.

As if this side of you is something he’s seen before — or something he’s used to seeing.

Perhaps through all the things you’ve gone through, Mingyu has already seen it all and so all he does now is react accordingly. He doesn’t show unnecessary concern because he knows what’s going to happen to you afterwards, only acting when needed and knowing what to do as if on instincts.

If he can be so calm in such a situation, just how much has he seen?

“What’s wrong?” The sight of Taehyung looking uncomfortable catches Jimin’s attention and upon the question, the rest of them turn to find the gentleman staring at Leehyun’s body. The marks you left would be horrifying to anyone who isn’t used to gore and he wonders how you could have grown so violent to inflict such acts upon another human like this.

The last he remembered of you, a simple gun frightened you so much you trembled and couldn’t even close your eyes without wanting to tear yourself apart. Things are different now but even then he never knew you could change this much.

“I…” He turns from the body, hands balling into a fist with a look of displeasure and discomfort marking his features. He regrets something and hates himself for it. “I didn’t uphold my promise,” he says, a reminder that he left you alone to Leehyun when Mingyu made it clear to not ever do that. Taehyung understood the underlying warning in your underboss’s words but still, he failed you.

He looked away, had you go into a room with Leehyun, and lost sight of you. Whatever happened down the other end of where he and Yoongi walked in from, he’s sure it isn’t good. Luckily you didn’t look like you were triggered but the bruised markings decorated on your wrists and ankles let him know that you must’ve been bounded and attacked.

“If you’re blaming yourself for that then it’s entirely my fault for allowing Y/N to not let us follow her,” Namjoon states in a clear voice, his hand pressed upon Taehyung’s shoulder with a small squeeze. “Though in all honesty, something like this was bound to happen whether we intervened or not.” He knows because Mingyu didn’t berate them for their failed part of the mission.

Perhaps in his wishes of them staying by your side at all times, he also knew it would be an impossible task as you yourself would push yourself to the limit just for a completed mission.

And no one was allowed to stop you.

Namjoon turns at the body of Leehyun laying on the floor when a few of Hyunjin’s men walk in to clean up the mess. He begins to command out orders, pointing to the end of the opposite hall from where they came from, knowing something must be there from where you ran from. The place Leehyun brought you to probably has more bodies that you’d dealt with.

They tell him it’s a maze that only the boss and Hyunjin, as well as a number of trusted men know how to navigate through. Yoongi’s brows furrow at that, reminded of the way you ran towards them with no problem. Did it really take you one run-through of the maze for you to memorize the twist and turn on where to escape to?

Hyunjin returns to their side then and the seven of them are led through the area with his lead. The maze is indeed a place hard to navigate through especially if you’ve never been here before but you managed to make it to the exit high on adrenaline and panic.

At the end of the maze stands a door held ajar, the golden knob broken and barely holding on from the door, and when they step into the room, they find men sprawled on the floor under the dim flickering light of a simple lightbulb hanging onto a single string from the ceiling.

Ten men to be exact, all built with nothing but muscles, lay lifeless on the floor with no signs of a pulse on any of their bodies. Did you do this? It almost sounds impossible but the evidence lies right before their eyes whether they’d like to believe it or not. There is evidence of ropes on the floor, just like the one they found on the ground of the maze they just walked through, telling them that not only did you take care of these men but you did so with limps bounded.

“She’s incredible,” Hyunjin marvels at the sight of the room, “I never knew she was this…powerful.”

Neither did they.

You’re incredibly strong and smart, but it only brings them with more uncertainty as they think about how and why you could have possibly turned out like this. Some people give in to the suffering and pain they go through while others are forced to work on themselves, reaching levels higher than the average person who hasn’t been through any tough ordeal.

“Hyung..” They all turn at the voice of the maknae, instinctively alert at the call and unsure of who he’s specifically addressing, but they guess with the way Jungkook looks toward Namjoon that it has to be him he’s calling out for. His features mark with distress, a look of discomfort as he bites against his lower lip. “Y/N…something’s wrong with her.”

Yeah.

That’s the only conclusion they can come up with.

.

.

.

You were a gifted child no one thought to pay attention to — or rather they underestimated your potential all because you were born a girl.

You sit in your room alone, on the floor, as you wrap your arms around your knees, pressing them up against your chest with your chin propped up against your forearms. Everything is silent, just the way you’re used to, just the way you’ve been forced to your whole life.

Father was always good at picking up gifted kids, he brought the Reapers to life after all, but unfortunately for him, many of them betrayed him for his only daughter, the very person he hated the most in this life. He saw their potential, picked them up from the trash society that discarded them away, and forced them into his submission. You’re sure that if he treated them well, they would have given their loyalty to him instead.

But he didn’t and that was one of his many mistakes.

He had keen eyes for finding such talents and breathed life into their forms. He made them into the ruthless killers that they are today, able to serve you well without an ounce of hesitation in their bones. 

Just like how he made you.

It was your trauma and hatred for your father that brought you and the Reapers together to form an alliance. You saved them from their torment, promised them a better life so as long as they listened to your wishes and lived through the pain inflicted by your father. They saw you as their savior, a light in the darkness, and Mingyu was the one to make sure everyone’s lips were sealed and kept to themselves without caring to save you.

You didn’t care about being saved, you didn’t want them to save you.

You’re sure that during the line down the road of serving your father while secretly keeping loyalty to you, there were more than a few times they wanted to discard their words in hopes of saving you from your father. Perhaps it was their way of repaying you for what you had done, perhaps it was their sense of morals, but either way, you knew more than anyone that in the hopes of saving you, they’d only kill you.

You couldn’t be saved. 

Not by them, not by anyone. Because if they tried, everyone would die and your plans would all be for naught. Mingyu made sure they knew that and only kept the Reapers who understood that. Luckily everyone knew the rules and luckily no one struck out in the slightest temptation.

Father had keen eyes for gifted kids.

His only failure was not seeing your own potential because he hated you. That was his first mistake.

If he had used you well, he wouldn’t have died by your very own hands. He always saw you as inferior, someone too weak for the world, and forced you into submission when you should have been the one who stood by his side and worked with him.

He kept you as a puppet, giving out demands after demands, driving you into dangerous missions after missions, thinking, hoping, praying for the news of your death to come when he’s in the middle of filling out paperwork and his only response would be a shrug. But unfortunately for him, your death never came.

He should have seen the signs then but he was too blinded by his hatred for you to see.

Father should have known you were smart. How could a fourteen years old with no previous knowledge of anything escape the clutches of a thirty-something years old man who had all the experience in the world? Daejung was a powerful man not only for his strength but for his brain. If you were a simple fourteen years old girl, you would have never been able to see through his traps and escape the very first night you saw your chance.

Yet father never picked up on anything and only uttered the words “four days. you’re weak.”

Maybe in another life, if father were smarter he’d be able to use you to your full potential and when that moment comes, you’d have never been able to escape his clutches. But in this life, things are different and you’re glad for your father’s blindness.

Because in his ignorance towards you, you were able to build up a whole team of Reapers who only followed you, who would never betray you should a moment come, and who will follow you down a path of hell without hesitation. He never saw your plan of betraying him, never knew you were capable of gathering his own allies to turn against him, never thought you would ever shoot a bullet straight through his head.

He was aware of everything else around him except his very own daughter. But for the sake of pretending to be submissive to him, you hurt in the process.

How long since you woke from your broken state? How long since you’ve shut yourself from the world, from everyone including your Reapers? How long since you’ve last eaten, since you’ve last slept? You can’t tell with your blackout curtains blocking away any sunlight just outside the windows but you’re sure it’s been enough time.

Though you know your Reapers are concerned for you, they don’t knock on the door, don’t try to pry themselves into your life. They know not to do anything unless you let them in, until you let them take care of you again. But until then, they worry in their own times, brows furrowing when the food they’ve left outside your door is untouched, when your room remains closed and locked, when no sounds are heard during times when they’ll walk by quietly, knowing not to disturb you.

You don’t let anyone in, not even Yuna.

But if you aren’t calling for Yuna or Mingyu then it means that you’re alright enough to not have a mental breakdown. They have comfort in knowing at least that.

Bangtan has visited a few times, especially Hoseok. He doesn’t go near your door, hoping you don’t get triggered by anything, not wanting to upset you. Mingyu keeps any updates about you vague, only uttering the words “she’ll be okay” and nothing more, nothing less.

Hoseok accepts it even though he should ask more questions, even though he should know more. Because out of everyone who has shown concern, he’s the only one worthy enough to know even if that sort of information is something Mingyu can never reveal. You’ll get genuinely angry at him otherwise and that’s a sight Mingyu never wants to be on the receiving end of.

When Hoseok visits, he sits in the living room where you usually meet your guests. Sometimes he’ll sit alone, sometimes Mingyu will be there to converse with him. He’ll sit on the sofa sipping the tea that’s been prepared because in the Reaper’s manor, no one drinks coffee. Tea is the only drink that can calm your nerves down so they don’t need coffee in this house.

Ever so often his eyes will flick to the door as if he’s hoping for something. Will the door ever open to reveal the very person he comes to visit? Will you walk in and finally present yourself to him? And when you do, how will you look? Will you have bags under your eyes as a sign of your unrest? Will you conceal that with makeup or will you not care to put anything on because it’s annoying?

You mentioned before that putting on makeup is a hassle. You don’t like the way it feels on your skin and you hate the process of taking it off. It feels weird afterward, as if your skin isn’t clean. He knows that sometimes you enjoy decorating your eyes, experimenting with them, but most days you’ll leave your face bare as you roam around the house, liking the feel of nothingness on them.

That’s why you hate having to attend parties. Parties require dressing up and wearing makeup. You hate the way people eye you whenever you’re in the crowd trying to blend in. You can never blend in. Yoongi always told you you were like a butterfly among the moths, a bright beacon that attracts them, so how can anyone take their eyes off you?

You don’t like the fancy clothes, the dresses that reveal more of your skin. You hate the attention. You hate the crowd.

“I’m not too fond of these types of dresses,” he remembers you saying the other night. It made him smile because it sounded like you were complaining, as if what happened in those past years was nothing but a fever dream.

But he knows it isn’t a fever dream, not when he’s sitting in the middle of your living room reliving the events of what happened in London, waiting for your arrival and only becoming disappointed in the end.

Your game of revenge is a game that plays with your emotions, provoking you through and through, shakes your resolve, breaks your mind, and tears you down to the tiniest pieces. You hold yourself well in front of others, concealing everything that creates you, and that’s why your body forced itself to shut down and display an emotion of void; it knows you’re afraid of breaking down before others and it knows when you’ve had enough.

Your body is the only force that can stop you on your mission of revenge, but how much longer will he have to watch to finally see you too far gone? Will anyone be able to stop you then before it’s too late?

“You should head back.” Hoseok looks up at Yuna who will forever have that black blindfold around her eyes.

When she addresses him, she speaks to him in a manner different from when she faces the rest of the boys. She’s more guarded around them, voice always on edge, but with him, she saves him the effort and results in a less guarded expression.

Yuna reminds him of a loyal beast. She’s soft and gentle when she stands before you, addressing you kindly without even the tiniest amount of hostility. She trusts you completely and cares for you in the most tender ways. But when someone does you wrong, when she faces the people that aren’t good for you, she will bear her fangs and stand before you, guarding everything that you are without hesitation.

She knows who to let in and who to shut out and Hoseok is one of the people she puts a bit of trust in.

He guesses that must be because he’s one of the few people in your life that never went out of his way to betray your trust.

He’s thankful for it but a part of him will always be torn between you and the boys. It was wrong of them to put him in a situation where he had to choose but that’s why you left. You left not only for yourself but you left for him. Because you knew that if Hoseok had known anything that he didn’t know then, it would have caused a rift in the relationship and he knows you would have never forgiven yourself if that were to ever happen.

You left so he didn’t have to choose.

At first, it broke him. Your leaving made him hate the boys so much and caused him to distance himself away from them. He can’t count the many times he was almost tempted to have grabbed the keys of his car and ride into your driveway, demanding you back. He wanted to meet you again and ask for forgiveness.

But what did he have to apologize for? He wasn’t the one at fault and you knew that.

Only until a few months into the divorce did Hoseok finally forgive himself just a bit. He realized that even though you were forced to leave, you still did it willingly as well. If you saw him then you’d tell him to make up with the boys, that you wouldn’t want to be the reason their love fell apart.

So he reconciled with them for you. A part of him would never forgive them for what they did but he still loved them dearly and he knew that losing them would cause him more grief. So he returned to them before it was too late, all the while crying because even though he returned, his heart could never be filled to the brim. There was always something missing and that missing piece was you.

Hoseok stands from the sofa and walks off like a routine but rather than going past the door as usual, he pauses for a moment. Yuna turns to him expectedly, knowing he has something to say.

“Thank you for taking care of her all these years,” he says, and when he walks off again, Yuna can only look towards the floor, hating every bit of the situation.

You never told her much of the details of your relationship, just very vague snippets of your love life, but she does recall you calling for Hoseok at times when you dream. When you speak of him, you always tell her that nothing was his fault because even though he wanted to save you and mend the relationship, you wouldn’t have let him.

You were glad he never came after you, glad he stayed with the boys in the way you forced him to. Hoseok would have had to choose a side if you hadn’t left so you never regretted leaving for the sake of your healing and for the sake of his.

Yuna knows that if Hoseok ever knew about the truth about your father, he would have never let you go. Will he ever find out though? Will you ever allow him the privilege? And if you ever do, how will he take it? She knows he will only regret things more.

Yuna turns from him to walk down the opposite hall of where he is, only to freeze in place when she feels another presence.

“My lady?”

You stand still from where you are, dressed in a white nightgown as you stare at the back of the one man who trusted and loved you when it felt like the whole world was against you. Luckily Yuna kept her voice low so he doesn’t have a chance of hearing and turning around.

You don’t want him to turn around.

In your heart, Hoseok is the one that got away, the soulmate whom you loved at the wrong time, your tragic fate. Perhaps in another lifetime, you could make up and you won’t have to worry about any other factor. Perhaps in another lifetime, you can love again.

In this life, you don’t trust yourself to love again. If Hoseok still cares, if Hoseok still loves you, you know that even then you won’t be able to stay with one another. For one thing, he has the others and you’re too selfless to take him away from them even if you hate them for what they did to you. Because Hoseok did nothing wrong and he doesn’t deserve to be torn between a bridge. You can’t take his people away from him so you decide to suffer instead.

“I want..a bath,” you tell Yuna, words beginning to form slowly after going days without using your voice. Dasom told you you can only communicate in one-word forms when you’re in a state where your body has shut down and you can feel nothing. They’ve learned to understand you, a skill they’ve picked up because there’s no one else to put in the effort.

Your Reapers will always do all that they can to help you.

Yuna gives you a nod. “I’ll call Dasom,” she says.

You know she’s concerned and wants to ask you questions. Are you okay? How do you feel? But she leaves it be for now because you’ve come out of your room. You’re walking with a limp and you’re bringing yourself slowly back into the light.

That’s enough for her.

She just knows she’ll have to order someone to prepare your food later. But for now, she calls for Dasom and the two of them lead you back into your room. Yuna runs the water warm and Dasom helps you into the tub so you don’t slip on your unsteady legs. They remain by your side as you sit in the bathtub, lost in thoughts while Dasom runs her hands through your hair, scratching lightly for the shampoo to run white and foamy.

“Why was Hoseok here?” You ask them after a few moments of silence. Your voice is a bit rough around the edges as it tries to get used to speaking again after going silent for days.

Yuna hesitates to answer. “He..comes around often. Ever since we returned.”

“Why?”

“He was worried,” she says simply and you pull your knees further into your chest, the ripple of the water felt against your naked skin.

You never wanted any of them to see you in such a state but you guess it was better than breaking down uncontrollably, an intimate moment you rarely even show the Reapers except Mingyu. Your body probably understood that, hence it stopped you just as you begged Seokjin to save you.

Ah.

You can’t believe you did that.

Leehyun triggered your senses but you can’t believe you actually turned to Seokjin and clung to him, asking him to save you. If only it had been Hoseok who grabbed you, maybe then you’d feel less uncomfortable and discontent with the fact that you showed such a weakness towards the people who never deserved it.

It leaves you bitter thinking about it.

Still, would you actually be more content with turning to Hoseok instead?

“Thank you for taking care of her all these years,” his words echo in your head when you decided to finally leave your room and take a walk, only to find out Hoseok had been here possibly waiting for your arrival.

If you had turned to Hoseok and asked him to save you instead, you don’t think you’d be able to take his reaction in. You remember the moment you stopped going to Hoseok all those years ago, when you stopped trying to rely on him. It was the moment you knew you had to prepare yourself for being alone again, when everything was falling apart and you didn’t want him regretting anything in the end.

You didn’t reach out to him, you didn’t ask for his help, and during your last moment with him, you asked him to let you go.

“I’m tired,” you said. And you remember the way he broke at those words.

In the end, he allowed you to go because those words carried so much weight to him. You were tired, tired of everything, and even though he wanted to save you, you weren’t going to allow him. So he stepped back and cried as you stepped away for one last time, never to return ever again.

If you had asked Hoseok to save you, if you had been selfish at that moment and turned to him rather than push him away, you don’t know what you’d do knowing you’d hurt him.

You don’t want to give Hoseok any false hope because you know you aren’t capable of loving again. If it takes only two seconds to break something then it’ll take a lifetime to heal and you know that you aren’t going to heal.

As long as you live to seek for revenge, you won’t heal.

You can’t have them both at the same time so rather than healing, you choose vengeance.

.

.

.

When Hoseok walks into Namjoon’s office as he usually does when he returns from his visit, he momentarily freezes in place at the tension that fills up the space.

The boys are all in the room, faces filled with grim. Taehyung’s looking at the floor, his eyes shaking from one place to another, not able to stay still while Jimin bites his lower lip and Jungkook fiddles with his fingers, a sign of anxiety running through their thoughts.

When he walks into the room, Yoongi looks away from him, not meeting his eyes, while Seokjin has his arms crossed against his chest, a small shake of his head when Hoseok eyes him with a question.

“What’s wrong?” He asks the room, moreso directed at the boss.

Namjoon meets his gaze with a look of distress and anger, ire and hurt flashing in his eyes as he holds onto a piece of letter with his veins popping into visibility. “Jungwon’s dead,” he utters. “He’s been dead.”

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the cruel and the fool

— summary: nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 8.8k

— warnings: a brief moment y/n almost has her ptsd triggered — brief mention of leehyun, toxic thoughts/acts [[ to anyone who might be afraid/cautious of reading this chapter, to be honest i don't think this chapter is too bad as compared to a few previous chapters, namjoon doesn't actively trigger y/n's ptsd of leehyun, but if you don't wish to read this chapter (or any other chapters for reasons), you can always send me an ask and i will gladly explain what's going on in hopes of not wanting to miss anything ]]

— PART 15 / previous post / masterpost

“Y/N?”

You look up with a startle, taking in a sharp intake that forces you to flinch, and when you turn around at the familiar calling of your name, you have to take a moment to compose yourself so that you don’t instinctively take a step back at the man before you.

Mingyu stands steady on his feet and you almost crumble at the fact that he called you Y/N and not boss because boss means you’re okay, you’re fine, you can take everything that’s coming at you, you can control it, control everything. But Y/N means you can’t. You’re not fine, you’re falling into disorder and you’re ruining yourself.

Y/N means you’re losing control. 

As if he understands just how much the effect of his word has caused you, Mingyu steps up from where he stood, keeping a good distance between the two of you and you hate the fact that today he hesitates to come to you.

There are days when you feel guilty for scaring them, for forcing them to abide by all that you are, to accommodate your needs, and forcing their way of thinking to quickly act just because you’re weak and you can’t do anything by yourself. There are days when you hate yourself more than you do on normal days, when you can see it in your Reapers’ expressions just how concerned they are.

They never look at you as if you are a monster, as if you’re some insignificant robot built up by your father in the same way everyone looks at you. They don’t look at you as if you’re just a puppet who holds no feelings, as if anyone and everyone can do anything and everything to you and you won’t hurt.

They know you hurt.

They know you hurt more than anyone.

Even in this room in a building filled with people who only want what’s best for you, you feel yourself trembling as you hold everything in, unable to scream, to cry for help, because all your life you’ve been shown that calling out gives you nothing in return. Even as you know your Reapers would never do such a thing to you, even as you know more than anyone that they’d come to you in a split second were you to utter the simple whisper of “help,” you don’t dare to.

You’re scared.

Scared.

So you tremble as you hold in the cry, falling completely silent, and it breaks you to do so.

“Y/N.” Mingyu calls again with a little more warmth, with a bit more comfort, and filled with a little less anxiety and fear. He calls you softly, a gentle expression plastered on his face when you look up with another startle, the serene on his features shocking you a bit.

He calls your name with care and if you knew how to cry, perhaps you’d be bawling your eyes out like a newborn baby, letting your tears out uncontrollably without a care in the world because you know there will be people who will do all that they can to ease your heart once again.

He calls you with such a tender gentleness it reminds you of the way Mister Butler used to call for you, the way Hoseok called for you.

Mingyu, Mister Butler, and Hoseok, all three different souls built in the same egg; the shell, the egg white, and the yolk.

Mister Butler was your protection, the very one who kept your innocence safe, the very one who held onto your hopes and dreams, keeping them safe in the warmth of his arms. When he left, you lost all of that; your innocence, hopes, and dreams. Years later Hoseok took his place, providing you with love. He gave you the happiness you sought for when you were with Mister Butler, a promise the two of you made with the linking of your pinkies. Mister Butler was the first to break his promise and you broke it soon after, leaving Hoseok who kept your love in the warmth of his arms, losing your love and happiness.

Then came Mingyu walking into the picture. You aren’t sure how it happened, when you began seeking out for the warmth of his arms, but perhaps it was always there, like how it was just meant to be in the same way it was natural to rely on Mister Butler and Hoseok’s warmth.

When he sees you shaking uncontrollably but keeping your silence and peace, Mingyu simply opens his arms as if saying; “It’s okay. You can come to me when you’re scared. I know you’re scared.”

And it reminds you of the way you used to go to Hoseok. He was always the first person you sought out whenever something frightful had shaken your core and you couldn’t handle things by yourself. It was always Hoseok.

When you let yourself go to Mingyu, when he engulfs you in his arms and when you lean into his chest, ears pressed against the resounding beat of his heart, you allow your mind to rest as you let your eyes flutter closed, legs giving in as he holds you on the floor in the middle of the living room.

This is your foundation. Your calm, your control.

This is your Mingyu.

When it finally comes to the day he leaves your life, you wonder how that will be. Will he leave you in the same way Mister Butler left you? Or will you leave him in the same way you left Hoseok? Both of them were out of your control, and both of them you were forced to cut ties with. You wonder if one day Mingyu will grow tired of you or if one day his loyalty will take him too far and he’ll die for you.

You don’t want him to leave. Not now, not ever.

If he leaves, who will you have? He’s your last one, the very person who’s holding onto your breaking pieces so you don’t completely crumble. Mister Butler was your protection, Hoseok was your love, and Mingyu is your foundation.

You don’t want to lose another one, another solace. You don’t want to lose your last one. Because you know after Mingyu, there will be no one left to take care of you in the way the three of them had. If you lose him you think it’ll probably be the last of your control. If you lose your Reapers, you know you won’t ever be able to pick yourself up again.

They can’t save you in the same way you’ve saved them but still, you’ve come to rely on them in more than one way. They’re the only ones keeping you afloat in this deep, deep sea. The only ones keeping your broken pieces together.

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper into the silence after a long, long time. “...I can feel it. There’s another storm coming, Mingyu.” You’re limp against his chest, body unable to keep its strength up just like all those other times when you lay against him. Perhaps you’re hurting him with your weight, perhaps his body’s cramping up in some ways but Mingyu doesn’t dare move. “I don’t want it to come.”

He knows you’re scared, he can feel it.

“What would you like us to do?” He asks, softly, in order to keep you sane, to have control over your situation in just the slightest bit when it feels like everything is falling apart. He lets you regain control for a moment, just like the building foundation that he is.

“...Stay,” you say. “Just…stay.”

And so he remains there for another hour longer to help you breathe a little easier, to help ease your heart, to calm the storm that had risen against your chest. It is only when Yeonjun comes in do you finally separate.

“I have your tea ready, boss,” he says when he walks in.

You’re weak and unable to walk on your own, body barely even able to step away from Mingyu so the two of them help you get off him. Yeonjun takes over the base, becoming the stepping stool that you need. He takes you in his arms while you make no protest, head turned to lay against him like a rag doll who holds no strength left in her body.

And when the young genius takes you out the door on his own, Dasom emerges to have a look into the living room, her face blank as she takes in the figure who remains seated on the floor, eyes looking lost in thoughts.

“Is your heartbeat that calming?” She asks into the silence, breaking Mingyu out of his daze as he looks up with a calm expression. “Boss always calms down the second she hears your heartbeat. Makes me wonder if you ever have moments when you aren’t calm and your anxiety takes precedence.”

He chuckles lightly, a rueful smile curling along his lips. “If I ever let the situations get the best of me, I’d lose my role as her foundation, and then what would happen? Have her suffer even more without being allowed a moment of calm?” He looks at her with furrowed brows, hand balling into a fist. “If I ever allow myself to become weak, I’d hurt her and that’s the one thing we cannot ever allow to happen. Y/N needs her moment of peace. Even if that moment lasts for just one second, if I can’t be her calm among the storm…she’d break.”

“But then what about you?” Dasom asks, her features marked with concern for someone else other than you, and Mingyu realizes it’s probably the first time she’s ever allowing her worries to show so openly.

“It doesn’t matter.” He picks himself off from the floor, averting his gaze as if avoiding his emotions. “As long as I’m alive, I live as her foundation. If I can’t do my job well, there’s no point in any of this.” As he walks by to leave, Mingyu takes a moment to pause beside her, putting a hand on the blade of her shoulder. “Even if we can’t save her, we can still give her room to breathe. If I ever rip that calm away from her…I’d never be able to live with myself.”

He walks away before Dasom can say anything else.

.

.

.

A blue vintage corset with a pretty white skirt that flows all the way to your ankles, accompanied by a matching blazer draped over your shoulders while your hair stays up by a white claw clip, you walk down the hall of the art museum all on your own, paying close attention to every painting presented on the wall at each of your sides.

You keep your eyes keen and open with arms crossed against your chest while your heels click from underneath you. All the guests in the building are common innocents who’re here simply for their own pleasures. You’re here for a different reason.

“..Miss?” 

Your heels stop clicking at the call of the hesitant voice behind you, already falling on your guard, and when you slowly turn around at the person, you find a young man you aren’t too familiar with.

“I apologize, you looked vaguely famil…” Your eyes narrow his way as he trails off as if trying to put an image to his memories, just before something in him clicks when his eyes widen. “Are you..the Reaper?” You keep your expression unreadable, remaining blank, and when it looks like you won’t answer his question, he goes to speak some more. “The scythe earrings,” he says, pointing at the silver dangles on each of your ears, “you..killed my uncle.”

Huh.

“So what? Looking for a chance to kill me now, are you?”

“No!” He quickly says and you fix your gaze towards the side at his sudden outburst, knowing the bystanders have just heard and have been alerted. Upon that, the man clears his throat awkwardly before continuing in a lower tone. “I just meant…I know my uncle was a bad man.”

“...Do you?” As you say that, a familiar figure catches the corner of your eyes and when you go on to focus your attention a bit more on them from behind the stranger’s shoulder, you feel your expression falling when you realize it’s Namjoon and Jimin.

If Namjoon and Jimin are here, the others shouldn’t be too far away. And that only means trouble.

You’re on your feet again, taking a turn opposite of where they are as you continue on your walk.

“It’s best to not associate yourself with me. If you offend me whether on accident or on purpose, I will rid of you without hesitation.”

“W-wait! I just..-” He runs to catch up to your pace, frantic looking. 

You stare at him up and down before sighing. “You’re wasting my time. Seeing as the insignificant man I killed is your uncle, I implore you to heed my advice and not show your face to me ever again. I do hate to be reminded of the memories of the past. They don’t serve well for the future.”

“I apologize, it’s just…I’m glad to have seen you in person, Miss Y/N. The rumors do you no justice, you’re more beautiful than they imply.” You don’t like the smile he shows you. “If you could be so kind, I would love to invite you to—”

“I told you, sir, I do not like to be reminded of the past.” You turn your face from him, walking sped up this time but he remains stubborn.

“I understand.” He doesn’t if he keeps following you insistently. “Being in the same room with you alone is a blessing, I’ll be sure to watch you from afar if fate ever allows us the moment again.” What a creep. “Ah, but what’re you doing here at an art museum? Are you here for your next target? Who is it?”

“It’ll be you if you don’t stop bothering me.”

He laughs as if you just said a joke. “My extended family would certainly have a heart attack if that were to happen, being as you’ve already gone and rid of my uncle. But truth be told, I’d be lucky to have the new Reaper kill me by her own hands.”

“Would you?”

“Of course! To have your beautiful hands—”

You stop in track all of a sudden, putting a hand up to have him freeze in place when he tries to reach out for you. “Sir.” Your voice drops deep, a frosty chill walking in as you stare him down from the side eyes. “If you really don’t wish to lose your life over some petty incident, I advise you to leave me now before you really make me angry. I’d hate making a scene in front of innocents but if you lay even the slightest touch on me, I’d do the same I did to your uncle and perhaps even worst.”

“...” He falls silent at your words and just as you think he’s finally done and realize the truth behind your threat, he speaks again as you’re about to walk away. “Who knew such a lady with refined beauty could get angry so easily.” He scoffs lightly, mocking you as his mask falls away. “You may be beautiful but your heart needs to be worked on. I bet my uncle didn’t even do much to have him face your wrath.”

“What your uncle did to me is none of your concern.”

“You must have killed your father for the same purpose, huh? I heard he cared for you quite deeply yet you returned his kindness by killing him. What a spoiled little brat.”

They don’t know your story and they never will, but that doesn’t phase you one bit because everyone is just like him; dumb and stupid, always believing the other side of the story without truly looking into things. Not that you care, they can think however they’d like, it doesn’t concern you.

You’re still going to kill the ones that did you wrong.

You ignore the man’s comment to keep walking, not wanting to stop this time no matter what but when you feel his presence once more with the way he comes at you at an alarming pace, you grab the white silk that was wrapped around your waist and played as a belt for your skirt, untangling the decorated bow and in a swift manner, you wrap the silk a few times around the man’s wrists, forcing it behind him in a rushed and assertive act that has him quick to scream at the pain.

You can feel a light tremble in your hands, the PTSD from Leehyun still here, so you make sure you aren’t touching him in the slightest, and when his scream alarms the people around you, you keep your cool as you stare down at the man, strengthening the tight grip of the silk with no mercy.

“You’re all the same. This is why I hate men.”

“Y/N?”

You sigh inwardly to yourself upon attracting the attention of Namjoon and Jimin and clench your jaw at the onlookers showing concern and worry. 

“Are you alright ma’am?”

“Was he bothering you?”

“Should we call security?”

You look up at the civilians who watches on with brows knitted on their features, your keen eyes taking in each of their expression. Calling in security now will only anger this man further and you can’t have their faces falling recognizable to him in case he holds any grudges. You know not to involve people and ruin their lives when they haven’t done anything wrong to you but the sight of the man who dared to try to lay a finger on you even after you’ve warned him otherwise makes you tremble with uncontrolled anger.

You told him you hate to be reminded of the past but he ignored your words and now you’re left here remembering Hwang Leehyun and his despicable touches that suddenly surfaces as if all they’ve been doing nothing but hiding under your skin, waiting to be revealed each time your memories resurfaces.

You hate it, you hate it, you hate it.

You want to kill this man.

“I’ll deal with him.” Namjoon’s commanding voice brings you back to the present for a second, just a split second. But still that second saves you for a moment because that second allows you to fall distracted, eyes flicking over to him sharply, and you watch when Yoongi and Jungkook, who you didn’t realize had also come over, take the man off you.

It saves you from having to be cautious in letting him touch you, allows you to breathe, to stand back up straight, to hide your hands behind your back.

That’s right. You’re calm, you’re calm. Nothing fazes you, you’re fine, everything’s fine. He didn’t touch you, he didn’t even graze you in the slightest. You’re fine and no one has to get hurt.

No one has to die. Not today.

You turn towards the crowd, feigning a small smile as you lower your head slightly at them. “Thank you for your concern, please return to your business. I apologize for the public disturbance.”

And without waiting for them to make their moves, you turn, following Namjoon away from the scene.

It’s silent for the longest time until you’re brought to the back of the building where it’s secluded and the sun is already setting. Yoongi and Jungkook keeps the man held against his will with Jimin following along, and Namjoon looks at you for a moment before he addresses you.

You should have known he’d visit this art museum. Namjoon enjoys looking at art during his pastimes, especially during times when things are rougher and he needs his moments of peace.

“How would you like to deal with him?” He asks, noting at the way you keep your hands held behind your back while keeping your distance. It seems you’re still cautious of being touched.

You look away from the man who had offended you, brows knitted as you stare at the horizon where the sun is slowly setting. “It’s fine,” you say, “looking at him a moment longer will only cause my blood to boil.”

You’re still dealing with the aftermath of your last endeavors, they can tell, that’s why Namjoon remained silent about the profound revelation he found. Although he may be angry with questions waiting to be demanded out of you, he kept his emotions at bay after seeing it physically in front of him just how hard the last event had hit you.

Still, he can feel his patience quickly slipping away now that he’s bathed in your presence. You still seem weak, not your usual aloof self who was always so great at hiding your true self slip past anyone, and although others may not realize it, he’s able to see through you in some of the slightest ways, letting him know that you’ve indeed taken a great hit from Leehyun.

His body may have burned away but the memories will always remain.

Namjoon understands how that feels.

“Leave him be then,” he tells the two before looking at you again, “I’m sure you’ll deal with him if you’d like in the future. I won’t interfere.”

You give him a nod and the three of them leaves with the man in toll, leaving you alone with Namjoon.

Silence fills once more, leaving you with the same uncomfortable feeling you’ve felt for the past few days. A storm is brewing and slowly but surely, you can feel the match beginning to ignite. Perhaps he has something to say to you, perhaps he realized something, or perhaps it’s something else, but either way you see that Namjoon isn’t speaking up even though it looks like he’s hiding something from you.

You turn on your heels, not wanting to stall this moment any longer. If he wishes to say something, whether that’s about what happened at the Hwang’s manor or something else, he can say it at another time. Right now you just want to return home and take your anger out in the training field.

“Jungwon.” You pause in your steps upon the name that slips from Namjoon’s mouth, his first word taking you by unexpected surprise. “He’s dead…isn’t he?”

There’s a hint of wrath in his voice, a hint of fear, a hint of unease and terror, accompanied by anxious thoughts that run through his mind and as you stand there still under the lights that have flickered on upon the sun now dimming the city, you don’t give him an answer.

But that in itself is an answer and you hear him scoff.

It’s filled with disbelief and disappointment.

“To think you’d lie to me and use someone I love against me.”

You turn around at those words, making sure to keep a level head. Despite the fact that he found out the truth about your schemes, you always told yourself to be prepared for moments like this. Namjoon would have found out one way or another. After all, he wanted the truth on where his brother was, and eventually, you would have either had to relay to him the news of his death or he’d find out on his own.

You just never expected he’d find out this soon. You thought you had more time.

“I didn’t lie to you, Namjoon, I just withheld the truth.”

Namjoon laughs at those words, the amusement dead and filled with nothing but pure ire. “And what? You think that’s any better? You know just how much my brother means to me.” You see the other three returning from where you stand, see the way the rest of them have come along as well and it almost feels as if you’re cornered. You can’t run, you have to face Namjoon’s wrath and their disappointment but you expected this. You expected to be hated by them and you prepared yourself not to care, to let them go when the time came. They left you, you’re free to leave them in the dust as well. “You were my wife and I trusted you with my vulnerability. I shared a part of myself I’d never share with anyone else and this is how you’re going to act in turn? By using information on my brother against me?”

You know what you’re about to say is toxic, that you shouldn’t turn this against him but after what happened with Leehyun, you can only feel your patience and mask slipping away as the day passes so you don’t care to hold your tongue this time.

“I could say the same thing about you, Namjoon. I trusted you with my heart and guess what happened in the end? You took it right out, ripped it to shreds, and threw it onto the ground without a care in the world.” The new scars on your body, the gash on your leg, they all still hurt in many ways and you hate the fact that they saw you in that vulnerable state.

“This is my brother we’re talking about.”

“And what? My feelings never meant anything to you?” You ask, challenging him. “You have to admit what you did to me was wrong and even after all these years, you’re acting as if nothing happened. I hate it most when people feign ignorance and pretend all is well without wanting to face the horrid part of things.” You take a sharp look at the others, making sure they know as well. “From the very beginning, I was on the losing end. I was made a pawn in the game you took part in, all just for the sake of power, and then you proceeded to toss me aside once you no longer needed me. Isn’t it only fair I do the same thing to you?”

“That doesn’t make it right for you to have used my brother against me,” he retorts with the same fire burning in your eyes. “You acted as if the butler who served you was someone you cared deeply for but in the end, everyone’s just a pawn for you to use at your disposal, huh?”

“Then you and I are similar in that aspect. You are not innocent, Kim Namjoon. Did you really think after all these years I’d remain that same soft-hearted girl I was then?” You chuckle bitterly at the thought. “She would never forgive the person that I am now but she’s gone, Namjoon, she’s dead, so she cannot stop me from using you in the way I wish to. If I want to use your brother against you, I’ll use your brother against you. The butler I grew up with was a butler who served me well, but he was foolish thinking he could have gotten out of that manor safe and secure without troubles along the way. Your father was the one who led him to the Reaper’s manor but when his mission grew completed, he hesitated upon leaving. Do you wanna know why?” You stare him dead in the eyes without blinking in the slightest way.

“It was because of me,” you say, unfaltering. “He stayed because of me. And guess what happened in the end? I killed him.”

“This is all your fault,” your father whispers into your ear. “He’s dead because of you.”

The trembling and terrified little girl then no longer shakes when she looks into the eyes of Kim Namjoon, the little brother of the very first man who ever loved you and the very first man whom you loved gently in turn.

Mister Butler was a man who always smiled your way no matter how rough the circumstances were. He was always there for you, the only one who held his arms out when you stood on the side, holding your tears in upon the rejection from your mother and father, the only one who allowed you to cry without scolding you, without scoffing or walking away. He was the only man who cared for you in the Reaper’s manor, providing you the fatherly protection you always needed from the very beginning.

He was your father, your brother, your friend, and the companion you sought the existence of. He was your soulmate, the very first one.

And when he left, your world fell apart. 

Nothing was right from the very beginning but he made it seem as if that in itself was okay because he was there and whenever he was there, everything turned out to be okay at the end of the day. You could go to your mother, get rejected and ridiculed, but turn to your butler and he’d sing you praises after praises. You could look up at your father with those wide and innocent eyes, the eyes of a child seeking the slightest attention they could receive from a busy and distant father, and even after he ignored you for the hundredth time, you could turn to your butler and he’d give you the attention you crave a hundred times more.

“I hope Mister finds your happiness someday.”

“And I hope the miss finds her happiness as well.”

You both broke your promise; his was forcibly ripped away from him and you no longer seek to find the pleasures in life.

You see the way Namjoon’s brows furrow slightly more, his chin protruding in the way it does when he’s angry, but you can tell there’s some suspicion leveled your way upon your words so you decide to drive him more mad.

He can hate you all he wants. You want him to hate you. He has to hate you and see you as nothing but a cruel and selfish monster.

You’re a monster.

“The day of the incident, I watched him with my very own eyes as life slipped away from him. His eyes were lifeless, dead, a corpse. In the same way I killed my mother and father, I killed your brother as well. The man who cared so much for me died at my very own hands. His death was all..my...fault.”

You drag out the words, speaking the last remaining three words carefully and slowly as if to try and purposely antagonize him.

It works.

Because you see the way Namjoon’s eyes brighten with red, how it shakes, how his lips tremble slightly, how it takes him a moment before he tries to get the words out of his throat. “...What?”

Hoseok watches you with brows slightly knitted in between, his mouth open but unable to utter anything out and you hate the way he looks disappointed, as if everything that he’s ever known about you is slowly slipping away and the mirror has slowly but surely shattered.

It’s okay though, you want this. You want him to hate you, to finally show anger and disappointment and think all ill thoughts of you with no rainbows or sunshine left in between. If Hoseok thinks nothing but love and still cares for the person he let slip from his grasp, it will only hurt the two of you in the end. 

Because you are incapable of loving, you have to make him hate you.

And if that means making him hate you through your hatred for Namjoon, then you’ll use that to your advantage. No one knows of Mister Butler anyways, and the ones who did have all died and left to burn to tell your tales. No one knows how much you loved that man, how you cried so hard the day your father killed him mercilessly. Though you may not remember clearly of the incident itself, you will never forget how much it hurt losing him and in turn, being blamed and made the villain of his story when all you ever wanted was nothing but his happiness.

Father turned everything onto you. Everything was your fault. You killed your beloved butler who showed nothing but love and care towards you. You were the fool who killed your father, your brother, your friend, your companion, and your soulmate.

You killed him.

You killed him.

Namjoon lunges after you in a blind fits of anger and as you keep your emotions well hidden in the depth of your heart, you hate the way this reminds you of those days all those years ago when Namjoon grew to hate you and the rest of your lovers did nothing but watch in turn.

Here you are reliving those same memories.

But rather than letting him take you down the way you did those years ago, this time you fight back. This time you lunge right back at him, not caring for anything else in this world even as something in the back of your mind tells you that you can’t win.

You can never win against Namjoon because at the end of the day, he will always be stronger than you. No matter how much strength you’ve gained through your years of torture, no matter how hard you’ve trained, how great your masters were, your strength can never exceed that of his.

“How dare you?!”

If Namjoon wasn’t blinded by rage, he’d use his brain just like any other day and realize how could a small little girl just nine years old possibly kill a man who held the strength and power of a mafia heir behind him? If he wasn’t so blinded by emotions, he’d remember the girl you used to be; afraid of guns and violence and always hidden behind the safety and comfort of her loved ones. How could a little girl like that, whether loved by her people or not, possibly rid of another man?

How could she? When all she wanted was nothing but happiness for the people that gave her nothing but kindness?

“Namjoon stop.” Hoseok. Poor Hoseok who still has the brains to try and rationalize things tries to meditate between two opposing opponents.

“Stop?” Namjoon scoffs. “She killed my brother!”

That’s right, blame me. Hate me. Hate me even more.

“You know what’s funny?” You pick yourself up from the ground, disregarding the fact that your white skirt now has stains on it as you reach for the knife hidden under it. “That I still haven’t gotten an explanation as to what happened all those years ago. Do you really think I’ll keep being patient without ever demanding an answer out of you?”

“Why the hell did you kill my brother? What did Jungwon ever do to you?” He doesn’t look for an answer before forcing you to dodge to the side with his blade grazing the skin of your arm. No matter how quick you are, you’re still slower than Namjoon. “That’s right, Jungwon didn’t do anything, did he? He’s not the type to hurt a little girl.” The more he pushes forward, the less space you have as you dodge back with your feet leaping behind at each step he forces you to take. “Did you have your people go after him? Force him to submit to you? Did you go to your father and make up stories in order to get rid of my brother?”

You manage to land a punch on his face upon those words, feeling your own anger building up. “I told you my truth. Why don’t you tell me yours, Namjoon? Surely I deserve it, right? After putting up with being your pawn, after letting you use me on that mission where you forced me to submit to a disgusting creep. Did you ever actually love me, Namjoon? Or was that all just a game you and the rest of your boys decided to play in in order to see how long things would last?”

“Y/N—”

“I didn’t deserve that.” Your eyes burn with red, baring your teeth as you glare at the rest of them. “We live in a world where emotions and weaknesses are not welcomed yet I trusted you with my heart. I gave you my soul. I listened to your problems, allowed you to lean on me, held you, loved you, did all that I could because I trusted in your love, and in turn, I got treated like nothing but a pawn in that little game you decided to play.” 

You push Namjoon against his chest upon his silence. “I put up with so much. Allowed you to degrade me, belittled me, let you say all those cruel things to me while being that silent good little girl you always cared for. That night I ripped my ring out, I even begged on my knees for you.”

“..What?” Hoseok whispers softly, words you’re unable to be heard because you’re focused on everyone else but him. He stands there in utter silence, listening to you and taking each and everything to heart.

You got on your knees and begged for them?

They…forced you to that point?

Them?

Hoseok turns to look at the rest of them with disbelief, as if trying to find someone in order to tell him that you’re wrong, that they didn’t force you to that point, and that you’re just spewing out nonsense because you’re angry.

“And you.” But before he can get an answer out of any of them, you’re speaking up too quickly as you point your finger at the rest of the boys. “Do you have any idea how much I second-guessed my position in our relationship? How much I envied the passing times you’ve already spent with one another? How many nights I went to sleep thinking perhaps you could have done better, perhaps I shouldn’t have intervened and got into the arranged marriage? Do you have any idea how many insecurities I built, convincing myself that you could never love me as much as you loved each other? That when it ever came to a point where one or two of you is fighting against me, I’d be on the losing end and no one would take my side because you loved each other more than you loved me?”

You laugh bitterly thinking about those days, feeling foolish for not giving in to those thoughts. “You had the audacity to make me think otherwise when in the end, my greatest nightmare came true.”

Namjoon forces himself in between you and them, pushing you back slightly on the shoulder. “Don’t make this about you.”

“What? Don’t make this about me?” You scoff at him with disbelief. “I gave you my truth, Namjoon, don’t you think it’s high time you gave me yours? Unless you plan on keeping me in the dark forever? If you really loved me then, if those three years were real and not a lie you built for me to live in then give me the truth that I deserved all those years ago. You wanted me gone no matter what, right? And I gave you that benefit, I walked away from our marriage because you no longer wanted me there anymore so whatever the hell is the reason behind those cold shoulders of yours, give it to me damn it! I deserve it more than anyone!”

“I stopped loving you!” He shouts against your anger and it catches you off guard for a moment.

You look at him for a second and when a heartbeat passes, you let out a disbelief scoff. “Now was that so hard to say? You sick bastard..!”

You push forth with your knife hung in the air but before you can strike, Seokjin’s right in front of you, forcing your hand away and as you take a moment to watch him with bafflement, you realize the rest of them are all standing by Namjoon’s side, refusing to let you harm him in any way.

Hoseok looks distraught as he remains where he first stood, his head falling to the side, avoiding your gaze, and once again it seems that no matter how hard you tried, you could have never competed against their love for one another. Because even if Hoseok were on your side then, they would have never pushed him away or allowed him to leave in order to stay by your side. They loved him too much to let him go to you.

How selfish.

How…cruel.

“I see.” The strength in your voice weakens as you face the hard truth and although it looks like they want to say something, you don’t let them. “In the end, you really did love each other more than you did me. And I’m not upset at that, why I be? Feelings are something we cannot force no matter how much we try but you should have told me the truth instead of letting me be the fool into believing I could have been enough. I was never enough for you, was I? Or perhaps you were already enough for each other you didn’t need another one to intervene. Perhaps in the beginning you really did love me, or you thought you did. I want to believe in that love because you showed me sides to you you’d never show to anyone else. I want to believe that you were kind and not some cruel, heartless monsters who never cared for me and only used me as your pawns.

“And I’m not hurt because of the past. I’m over it. I’m hurt at the fact that you turned the little girl I was into a lovesick fool and made her believe nothing that she did would ever satisfy you. But she did nothing wrong…did she?” You look at them with your cold expression falling away, the anger still there but lessened as you’re more disappointed and hurt than anything. “I did nothing wrong. I was always enough, but you made me feel otherwise.”

You turn from them, not wanting to look at them any further. And as you walk away, this time even Hoseok doesn’t chase after you.

Perhaps he understands your pain, knows just how much the boys have messed up. And whether he wants to choose you or not is not a choice for him to make because at the end of the day, it will always be the boys.

You will always be Hoseok’s second choice.

.

.

.

“...Som.”

“Boss?” Dasom’s at your side in an instant. You aren’t sure how and where she appeared from but the second you walk in through the doors and uttered her name, she’s right there at your disposal, her eyes widened, a quick display of surprise plastered on her usual expressionless face. “What happened there?” She points at the light graze on your arm, her anger clear. “We aren’t supposed to go for another one until later so who dared to hurt you? Who do I have to—”

You put your hand up, cutting her off immediately just as Yuna appears alongside her. They remain silent in your presence, taking in the way you look. Your once pure white skirt spoils with dirt, blazer hung over your arm for someone to take, eyes falling blankly to the floor with a look of exhaustion clear on your face. There’s a slight furrow in your brows, lips sealed tight, eyes twitching a little.

You’re trembling in the slightest way. It won’t ever be prominent to the normal eyes but your Reapers will never miss anything about you.

Dasom’s quick to rush away on her feet without a word, probably to call Mingyu, while you look around for something, feeling restless, before sitting flat on the floor.

“I hate heels,” you utter, allowing your legs to straighten right before you, and without needing to demand anything out of them, your Reapers know immediately what to do.

Yuna crouches down to take your shoes off while someone else takes your hair clip off to free your hair.

“Boss?” And when Mingyu’s voice is heard, you stare up with an effort, suddenly marked with a memory of the past.

Everyone has left the room upon your silence. Everyone but your right-hand man.

You sit still on the floor of your bedroom, the only place that’s secure in this hellhole. You hate what lies outside the door, hate the halls, the eyes of your father’s men, your father himself, and everything else that exists.

Mingyu tends to the wounds you reveal after ripping your sleeves off, trusting in only him to see them after having gone through a series of feigning your strength before your father. He sent you on another dangerous mission, hoping to kill you.

“Boss?” Mingyu speaks up into the silence, prompting you gently as if he knows there are some things you want to let out.

So you speak. “Mingyu.”

“What is it?” He remains patient upon your hesitation, so you turn to look at him, eyes distant but holding onto your last bit of sanity that still exists.

“I’m tired,” you say, and that’s all he needs to hear to understand.

“Mingyu.”

He crouches down to your level and stares at the cut on your arm before taking a look at your slightly reddened feet from the heels. The silence lingers in the air and so he looks up at the rest, a signal they’re quick to pick up on and without a word, the Reapers that have gathered around all scatter away.

Once they’re all gone and out of sight without alerting any of your senses, you finally utter out more words.

“I’m tired,” you say, and Mingyu understands.

You’re tired, tired of everything. Tired of the world, of people, of everyone that has hurt you, of being weak and unable to face the truth without trembling, of pretending, of keeping strong, of lying, of being lied to, of your enemies, of your friends, of everyone and everything.

You’re tired.

You want to rest, to stop, to reset, to freeze time, to relive everything and make better decisions just so you don’t have to live through all of this ever again.

From what Mingyu can tell, there’s only one group of people that can make you look this way. There aren’t a lot of people who can go up against you after all, not to mention you had no plans to face anyone annoying today, so the only conclusion he can come up with is that you accidentally met up with Bangtan and something happened.

“He found out Mister Butler died,” you say, already knowing that Mingyu can always speculate what’s going on with you. Mister Butler will always be Mister Butler to you. Not Kim Jungwon, not Namjoon’s brother, not a man belonging to another gang, just Mister Butler. Your butler.

Your kind and gentle butler whom you killed.

“Ah,” is all Mingyu says as he makes himself comfortable on the floor.

You take your knees up to your chest and lay your cheek against them. “I told him I killed him myself.”

He purses his lips. “Why would you lie to him like that?”

“I wanted him to hate me.” You pause. “To blame me.” It’s a simple answer and Mingyu can already tell what’s going on inside your head.

You hate showing any bit of weakness in front of others, especially in front of strangers and in front of people that have wronged you. You hate it when someone shakes your core, when you can’t stand upright, when your falsehood falls and your brave act begins to break, and he knows you must have hated it most that you had to show such a vulnerable side of yourself towards the very ones who drove you back into such a harsh environment, forcing you to survive all on your own.

They unknowingly fed you to the wolves, just to watch in horror as they finally witnessed the consequences of their actions. What makes it worst is that they don’t even know that that was all their doing. You would have been safe staying with Bangtan if they hadn’t forced you to leave.

Lying to Namjoon about killing his brother was your way of distancing yourself from him, because even you could tell something would have changed in your relationship were he to begin acting differently around you after London’s mission.

You hate being weak and you hate it most of the people’s reactions to it.

Some people use that against you while others sympathize and act with more care around you. You and Mingyu both know Namjoon isn’t the type to use your weakness against you so you decided to keep playing the villain and drive him away.

“Do you ever plan on telling him the truth someday?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because he deserves it,” Mingyu says, “that’s his brother after all. No matter what happened between the two of you, you know he deserves the truth and not the lie you told him of killing his own brother yourself.”

You know.

You know more than anyone Namjoon deserves to hear the truth about what happened all those years ago. You remember the first night he opened up to you about his brother, how broken he looked to believe he failed Jungwon when in reality he had nothing to do with his death. It was all the corrupted fathers that involved themselves in the game of thrones, willing to discard all and anyone away whether they were family or not.

Namjoon’s father was just like yours and you know that if Namjoon were to ever find out the truth about your father, he’d hate himself the most.

They all would.

But you don’t care to give them the truth because they don’t deserve it, none of them do. None except Hoseok but you know that if Hoseok were to ever know everything, he’d beat himself up the most and you don’t deserve to put him through any of that.

Your secrets will remain yours both from Bangtan and the Reapers.

Still, if there’s anything Namjoon deserves, it’s the truth about his brother, just as Mingyu said. It wasn’t fair of you to use his brother against him after all. You were cruel for that but you had to do what you had to do. It was the only way to get through to Namjoon, make him a pawn in this stupid revenge game of yours. He doesn’t deserve the lies you gave him, the truth you withheld from him, but revealing the truth about Mister Butler’s death will also bring your own truth forward and you don’t think you can take that.

“If I tell him the truth about Mister Butler…that means telling my truth.” Mingyu watches you carefully as you speak and because you know even he and Yuna doesn’t know much about your past, your brows knit in distress as you look away from that piercing gaze, holding onto your knees even tighter. “Father killed him,” you utter bitterly as you bite against your lower lip, the effects of the incident still a place you’d rather not return to. “He was the first love I lost.”

You’ve told them about the first man who ever showed you kindness, that because he loved you, he died. You told them about Bangtan, that they failed you and betrayed your trust. The two of them, Mister Butler and Bangtan, are the very reasons why the Reapers are not permitted to love you.

To you, being loved is something out of the book. You’re scared of being loved because in the end, they either die or betray you. That is why you cannot see how deeply the Reaper’s loyalty lies.

Because you refuse to.

Because you’re afraid of it.

Afraid of loving and afraid of being loved.

“If I tell him about Mister Butler..how he died and how he lived…he’ll connect the dots. He’s already doing it right now, I’m sure of it. How can you still blindly think a father actually treated his daughter finely knowing she’s been through some stuff? Namjoon’s not stupid, none of them are. It was easy to live in the lie back then but now that I’m deliberately going after people, how can anyone not begin to question things?”

So you’ve pushed them away not only because you didn’t want them to treat you any differently but also because you’re pushing them away from the truth they may be hoping to find out.

“Not that it matters much anymore anyways.” You press your forehead upon your knees, hiding your face completely. “I told him I killed his brother and he told me he stopped loving me. In the end, the old me who was once the center of their attention fell away and was never enough for them. What a pitiful little girl,” you scoff lightly, bitter at the fact you’ve just uttered. “Nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough. She was so..dumb. But maybe she knew the truth all along. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe in it, deluding herself into lies after lies, trying to keep up the fantasy, living in a house of cards that had been inevitable to fall from the very beginning. 

“She was a fool. An utter, pitiful fool.”

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the second choice

— summary: an illusion of free choice, it will always be namjoon in the end

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 10.3k

— warnings: none but i do apologize beforehand for any anger/sadness you may feel :)

— PART 16 / previous post / masterpost

May 20XX; Age Six [Kim Namjoon]

“Joon.” Jungwon crouches down before him, his eyes a stare much more serious than ever before. There is still kindness in his eyes, there will always be kindness in his eyes, but as Namjoon looks up at his older brother, even the little boy can tell a storm may be brewing in the corner. “If I ever disappear,” he speaks in a low voice so that no one else can hear but Namjoon, “I want you to take over. You got that?”

Namjoon furrows his brows, a face of fear and confusion plastered upon his little boyish features. “Hyung…what do you mean by that?”

Jungwon smiles ruefully, the hand he has on his brother’s shoulder patting gently. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“But hyung, I..” Namjoon shakes his head, refusing to give into what his brothers’ words imply. “Disappear? What do you mean by that? If you’re not by my side, how can I ever go on, hyung? You can’t leave. I won’t be able to do anything without you.”

“Sure you can.” His voice is kind, sweet, always offering the gentlest words despite how cruel this world is. “I know you can.” Then, Jungwon’s tone shifts. “And I know you will.”

“Hyung?” Namjoon takes a step closer to his brother, anxiety weighing against his chest so strong he hopes it can disappear when he touches his brother’s hands but it doesn’t. Something’s not right. Something’s wrong. And usually, Jungwon’s always there to fix everything for him but this time it feels as if the very source of that problem is Jungwon himself.

And as if he’d disappear right before his eyes, Namjoon holds himself closer to his elder brother, panic settling in his chest in the most uncomfortable way. 

“Don’t tell me…” He whispers, afraid of the answer.

When Jungwon sends him a tight smile, the answer is clear. “It’s okay, I’ll be gone for only a few years.”

“Years!” Namjoon exclaims in defiance. “Hyung, you can’t—”

“Shh!” A finger held against his lips, he quickly shuts the younger boy down as he looks around instantly, trying to sense any other presence around the two of them. But Namjoon doesn’t care for that right now, all Namjoon cares for is the fact that he’s going to be losing his brother very soon.

As if Jungwon can feel just how afraid his little brother is for his disappearance, his eyes settle back on him, large hands engulfing Namjoon’s with a tight squeeze.

“You’ll be alright, I just gotta take care of some things. But just in case, Joon, and this is just in case, got that?” He doesn’t continue until Namjoon gives him a nod. “Just in case something…” He hesitates, knowing that frightening the boy further will only alleviate more anxiety but he also knows that he has to in order to make him stronger. “If something goes wrong, I need you to become the head of Bangtan, you got that?”

“But—”

“No matter what,” he emphasizes with a force. “You have to become the next head. And if that takes you years before you can pick up the courage, let it be. Just know that no matter what, father cannot live until he lies on his deathbed with greying hair. I want you to bring him there before even a strand of his hair whitens.”

“Hyung..”

“I know.” Jungwon nods, his lips tight in a straight line before he continues. “I know it’s quite the burden I’ve placed on your shoulders but this is the only way you can free yourself, Joon. If I’m not here to be the one to take him down, you’re going to have to step up to be the big boy. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I..I-I’ll try,” he says, though knowing he could never. He’s just a little boy after all, and thinking about becoming the next head is something that can only happen in dreams and fairytales. “But hyung, you…you can’t die. Please, hyung,” Namjoon takes ahold of his brother’s shirt, pleading, begging, as his tiny little hands that are balled into knuckle white fists trembles. “You have to survive, no matter what. Or else I’ll never forgive you.”

“I know Joon, I know.” Jungwon brings his little brother into his chest in order to try and relieve some of the stress he’s feeling. He holds onto him tightly as he hides his own fears and unease. “No matter what, I will do all that I can to return to your side. I promise I’ll be back and when I come back, we’ll take over Bangtan together and lead the gang into a new era.”

“You promise?”

“Mmn. I promise.”

That was the first promise Jungwon ever broke.

.

.

.

June 20XX; Age Twenty-Two

“I hope that you will treat my daughter well. She is quite precious to me. She knows nothing of the violent side to things and I wish to keep that pure and innocence with her until the day she no longer walks this earth.”

The Grim Reaper. Said to be quite ruthless and cruel. There were rumors that he had a daughter but Namjoon never knew it was a daughter he cherished so much. Perhaps her hidden identity and the reason as to why she was known to only exist in rumors and fantasies is because the Grim Reaper hides her well in the hopes of protecting her.

Huh.

What a decent father, unlike the man Namjoon wishes to no longer remember.

“Of course. You have my word.”

.

.

.

“Namjoon, are you alright?”

It’s strange the way you concern yourself in his business despite only being in a marriage of convenience. From the first moment Namjoon saw you, he knew you were someone who only held kindness in your heart, but even then this was nothing but a contract.

“You do not need to concern yourself with me. We may be husband and wife but you are not obligated to care for my needs. Our marriage is only a contract after all.”

He hopes you would leave then. You look like someone who would listen to each and every word someone tells you to. After all, you’re even timid around his own boys despite the fact that you are in a position much higher than them. If you had the heart to, you could even berate them without fear of any consequences coming down on you with the power you hold. Obviously, Namjoon would never let you but he knows that even then, having your father’s strength behind you would serve well were you to use that to your advantage.

Thankfully, however, to Namjoon’s relief, you aren’t some spoiled brat who only thinks highly of herself.

“Forgive me, I do not mean to cross your boundaries but I am not speaking as your contractual wife, Namjoon. I am speaking to you as myself. As Y/N. Not Mrs. Kim.” His fingers freeze against his keyboard just as you say, “So I’d like to ask again; are you alright, Namjoon?”

What a strange little girl.

Strange indeed.

Yet…not the bad kind of strange.

.

.

.

You’re a kind young lady who knows how to treat others with respect, though a part of him believes you may be too cautious for your own good. Seokjin could tell right away that you fear them, that even though you try your hardest to be the kind person that you are, you still distance yourself in subtle ways, timid and afraid of things unbeknownst to them.

You hide yourself well, present yourself in a poised and elegant manner, different from what he images a young lady of your age should behave. You’re closer to Jungkook’s age, and although the young boy has his own pasts and traumas he’s dealt with, he’s learned to work well with others and be free in the ways he can (mostly through Jimin’s efforts). 

But you’re different from Jungkook.

The both of you are on the quieter side, but unlike the way Jungkook’s content with his silence, you fall more rigid and timid and perhaps it’s all because you’re in an environment different from that of your father’s estate.

He wonders how you were treated there, how much he spoiled you, how the servants cared for you, and although a part of Namjoon envies you for growing up with a kind father who watches out for your wellbeing, he knows not to get jealous of those things.

Still, it makes him wonder just what sort of reaction you’d have were he to put you in a difficult position.

And through his selfishness, he makes his first mistake and lives to regret it the moment he sees you crying in the arms of Taehyung.

“I was scared,” you confess in a barely audible whisper. “I was so scared.”

He should have never mixed purity with the cruel world he grew up in. No matter how envious he was of the way you grew up, no matter how curious he was to see how you’d respond to being put in a spot that’d make things difficult for you for the first time, he should have never done what he did.

Namjoon was cruel.

A cruel, cruel man.

“I made you feel as if you had no choice to refuse, as if you were nothing but a pawn to me.”

“But, I am a pawn.”

He saw himself in you. In the way you coward before him as if he was still the little boy that he was years ago, trying to look his bravest but ultimately failing whenever it came to confronting his father head-on.

His father always made him feel like a pawn and here he is, doing the exact same thing to an innocent little girl.

“No. You are Y/N. You are not a pawn. You deserve to live just as much as the rest of us.”

He should have never forced you into that situation.

.

.

.

“Want to sneak out?” Namjoon hears a voice in the middle of the night, the tone whispered lowly as if up to no good.

He lets out a silent sigh as he remains hidden behind a wall, taking a small glance Jungkook’s way as the two of them were just on their way back from a meeting. The younger one remains the silent person that he is, not uttering a word as the troublesome Jimin tries to coerce you into sneaking out.

“What, I..-I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Jimin, I’m…did you forget who I am?”

Daughter of a powerful mafia leader, wife to another powerful mafia leader. Perhaps living the life protected by others may indeed be burdensome at times. You have restrictions, unable to live the normal life you’d like, not being able to enjoy the world outside as much as you wish to, being cautious of your identity, and always having to ask permission for every little thing in order to remain safe and secure.

He’s seen the way your father treats you; eyes always kept your way no matter where you go as if cautious and afraid something would go wrong were something to happen. You’ve never lived a life without being under surveillance, have you?

He guesses even the love of a father may be burdensome, just as it is for a child growing up without love. Though he’s glad you didn’t have to grow up the way he did. At least you had people who cared for you and he hoped you’ve had nothing but the best growing up.

“Namjoon will be upset and angry at me if he ever finds out.”

When his name is brought into the conversation, Namjoon begins listening in more intently.

“Oh please,” he hears Jimin laugh, “If Namjoon ever finds out, he’ll only go after me. I promise.”

How shameful of him, knowing just how troublesome he is that he’ll be the only one getting scolded and yet continues on his antics without care.

“I can’t believe in that promise.”

“Huh. You really don’t trust him, do you?”

“Our relationship was arranged, Namjoon wouldn’t let me off if I were to ever disobey him.”

Namjoon leans away from the wall after those words, a hand placed upon the maknae’s shoulder as he whispers, “Watch over them, will you?”

“Hyung?” As he goes on to walk off, Jungkook looks back at him with confusion. “You won’t try to stop Jimin?”

The leader simply gives him a shrug before disappearing into the dark halls, leaving Jungkook to do what he wants with both you and Jimin.

It seems that as the day passes by, the boys are slowly becoming fond of you. Even Jungkook who’s usually very slow upon warming up to people doesn’t reappear before him later that night, leaving Namjoon to guess that he went on the expedition with you and Jimin.

When he asks you about it the next day, you put the blames all on yourself, not wanting anyone else to get in trouble, and Namjoon sighs.

“You are my wife, Y/N, not my prisoner. If you wish to go out, you have every right to do so. However, you must make sure that you have at least two guards with you at all times. You are my wife, after all, even if no one knows of your identity.”

Even if it’s just the smallest amount of freedom he can give you, Namjoon hopes it’ll give you a bit of a breather.

If even a little.

.

.

.

Yet freedom comes at a price and the second Namjoon thought he’d finally be able to see your happiness flourishing, the light that produced flickered away in mere minutes and you’re down on the ground, panicking with fear taking total control until it is Seokjin who has to be the one to ground you down.

“I’m here,” he repeats, “I’m here.”

He goes through a breathing exercise with you patiently, gently, until finally your exhaustion catches onto you and you collapse there right in his arms, falling asleep to the beat of his heartbeat.

Namjoon vows right then and there to give the man who had done this to you the slowest death he can offer.

You were so happy a few days ago, smiling and laughing along after what he had put you through, and just when he thought things have finally calmed down, your peace and joy has been ripped away from you once more.

He won’t forgive himself for using you as a pawn but he’ll kill the one who had scared you and shattered your soft, forgiving heart.

.

.

.

Namjoon fell in love with you just as fast as he had fallen out of love.

Just three years — two years of loving. And Namjoon grew tired of your silence.

Your silence.

Your quiet, quiet silence.

When he loved and cared and opened his heart up, revealing his deepest insecurities and pasts with you, things he never does unless he truly trusts someone, when he broke down his walls and allowed you into his arms, you remained silent.

There were times when you’d lean on them, when you’d turn to them during rough moments, when you couldn’t sleep, when you were feeling insecure about your position in the relationship, when you were afraid of an enemy, when you just needed a shoulder to cry on.

But there were also times when you’d awake in the middle of the night, shutting down and holding yourself together without the tiniest peep. Those were the times when Namjoon had to make an effort. To hold you, to remind you that it was okay to turn to them, to lean on them.

Because they loved you.

There were times when you’d shed tears and say nothing, remaining completely silent. No matter how much effort he had put in, how much they had put in, trying to ease the answers out of you, remaining patient with you all the way, reminding you of their love and care, you wouldn’t say a word about your struggles.

And it hurts because they’ve shared parts of themselves that no one else knew yet there you were, walls still held up high without the slightest crack in between.

Did you love them as much as they loved you? Were they showing you enough love? What if all their efforts were all for naught? What if their love weren’t enough for you to see, to feel, to have, to hold, to cherish? What if they weren’t good enough to keep you as their own?

What if you were better off returning to your father? In a place where you’re used to, surrounded by people who knows you, who understands just what to do when you’re like this? Those who can take care of you in ways they could never?

If you returned, would you be happier?

“Is she even happy?”

“What are you saying, Namjoon?” Seokjin looks at him as if he has two heads, brows deepened with confusion as he pushes aside the paperwork before him. “You can’t just go around coming up with your own conclusions without communicating.”

“I tried, hyung, I’ve tried.” He runs a hand through his hair, biting onto his lower lip to keep his emotions at bay. “But she doesn’t say anything, hyung. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“So you try harder,” Seokjin stresses, feeling irritated he even has to say such simple reasonings aloud. “She’s always been so patient with us, why can’t you do the same?”

“I know hyung, I know.” He knows, he understands, but the longer he’s kept in the dark, the more his thoughts stray away into thinking what if you were better off elsewhere? What if you were better off returning to your father? To your safe place? If he can’t provide you with the right love and care that you need, then wouldn’t it be better for you to return to the Reapers? 

“I feel like I’m not doing enough,” he says as he looks away from Seokjin, trying to hide the overwhelming emotions. “I thought that if I loved her enough, she’d finally trust us with her vulnerable side but what if this love isn’t enough for her? What if all that I’ve been doing has been for naught? What if—”

“Namjoon.” The eldest lowers his voice into a threat, not wanting him to utter any more words.

But Namjoon keeps going. “What if I end this?”

“Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin stands from his chair, feet stomping right on over and without hesitation, pushes Namjoon right up the wall behind him in a harsh and forceful manner. “Don’t you dare say that ever again. Just because the two of you are legally married doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t have a say in it. If you end it for the two of you, you end it for the rest of us.”

“But she’d be happier!”

“You don’t know that!”

“What else am I supposed to think?!” He looks up with a force and Seokjin almost gasps at the sight of tears falling from his eyes. Namjoon isn’t one to shed tears, not like how easy it is for someone like Jungkook. Out of everyone, the leader always keeps himself composed no matter what situation he’s faced with and it has to take a lot in him to finally allow tears to fall.

Seokjin almost takes a step back when Namjoon leans against the wall and slides down, hitting the ground with a thud. He lets his tears flow, not caring to wipe them away, not caring to hide them anymore.

“I can’t love her enough,” he says in a low, low whisper. “My love isn’t enough for her.”

“...What are you trying to say?”

Namjoon falls silent for a moment. And a heartbeat later, he confesses his feelings. “I can’t love her,” he says, “not in the way I used to.”

As his nostrils thicken and his eyes redden, Seokjin pulls Namjoon back up by the collar. “What sort of pathetic excuse were you trying to make before?” He growls, the flash of anger and hurt clearly seen in his eyes. “She’d be happier with her father? Are you serious? Y/N’s silence shouldn’t be the reason for you to give up like this. You know perfectly well how love works. Not everything is exciting and filled with happiness. Sometimes it gets a little dull and that infatuation you felt at first will dwindle down but that doesn’t mean you give up on it the second you feel it. If you can do it with the rest of us, why can’t you do it with Y/N? You love us all the same, why can’t that be the same for Y/N? Was your love for her that weak? You know just as well as I do how much patience it takes to break down someone’s walls and the second you feel you can’t do it as easily as you’ve done for the rest of us, you’re willing to back down. You’re pathetic, Kim Namjoon.”

.

.

.

He knows.

He knows he’s pathetic.

But the more he tries, the harder it is, and the more he comes to learn that he can never love you in the same way he used to.

“Joon!”

Even the soft little nickname that always got him to smile no longer works for you and soon the rest of the boys all catch up to it. Fights break out behind your back and the longer this goes on, the more frustrated Namjoon gets.

He hates how pathetic he’s acting, hates the way feelings work, because he tries, he does, but doesn’t try enough to make things work and soon enough, the way the others care for you starts to irritate him as well. He hates how sweet they are towards you, how they defend you every time he has something to say, how he watches their love for you is kept the same and yet his is different.

And most of all, he hates how kind you still are despite knowing Namjoon’s changed.

He knows you know and he hates how you refuse to address it, wanting to believe in the Namjoon you fell in love with. For a while, Namjoon thought that was fine, that if he too refuses to see his changing feelings, he can come to love you all the same again.

But that doesn’t work and his frustrations get the best of him.

“If this continues, I’ll end up lashing out at her.”

He hates the way the others look at him but he deserves it, he knows he deserves it.

“So what? You’re gonna say it’s better to let her go before any of that happens? Before you hurt her? Return her to her father because she’d be happier there than pretend things are going well between the two of you?”

When Taehyung points out those things, Namjoon doesn’t say a word.

He just nods, and that causes another fight to break out.

The tension grows and grows between them, all the while you turn to Hoseok, the only man who’s unaware of what’s going on around him, finding your safe space in him.

Hoseok who doesn’t know a thing. Hoseok who still loves you more than anything else in the world and you, who clings onto his love because everything else seems to be falling apart. But even then, Namjoon sees the way you hide your true feelings from him, not wanting him to worry and perhaps afraid that if he knew, he’d also fall into the tension that has grown between the rest of them.

Namjoon knows how dumb he’s being, that he should try harder but trying harder only makes him grow more irritated, and soon enough he just stops.

Stops trying.

Maybe if he acts differently around you, maybe if he makes you hate him, it’d be easier to let you go. Because that way you can feel better about returning to your father. He’d rather you hate him than hold onto a false hope thinking he could change and revert back to the old him.

He’ll make you hate him and he’ll force you to take the step into calling for a divorce.

The night Namjoon lashes out on you, Taehyung meets him when he slams the door closed on your face, a look of disappointment clear on his face as he bites his tongue back when the two of them meet eyes. Taehyung’s jaw is clenched, hands balled into a fist, trembling by his side as he tries to subdue his emotions.

“A pawn?” He whispers, scoffing at the disgusting words that left his leader’s lips.

Namjoon looks away, chin protruding.

“You have no right, Kim Namjoon. To tell her such things.”

And when your cries echo softly from the other side of the door, Taehyung lets his own tears fall. His eyes redden as he keeps silent, not wanting you to hear a single peep, while he levels daggers into Namjoon’s head.

But the man doesn’t give him a reaction. He turns away and walks off, leaving Taehyung to hear your cries all to himself.

He stays there for the longest time, listening to you from the other side of the door, keeping himself concealed, hidden, despite his body screaming at him to rip open that door and hold you tightly. All the noises that leave your lips tears him down to pieces.

He hates it most when you cry, hates your tears, your broken state, and he hates himself most of all for just staying there stoned to the floor, not making a single move to walk towards you or away.

He just stays there, listening to the broken record that falls from you, left damaged by Namjoon’s words.

It is until two hours pass does Taehyung actually make a move. You’d gone silent an hour ago but he knows that in spite of your silence, you still cry. That’s just how you are. You hate making the slightest peep when you cry, hate it when others hear you even if no one’s by your side.

You hide all that you are even while basking in your own comfort.

So when Taehyung’s absolutely sure you’ve fallen asleep from all that crying, he opens the door to your bedroom and walks in to find you sitting against the wall, head leaned to your right where the bookshelf lies, eyes shut closed with faint dry tears marking your cheeks.

He steps in and takes a seat before you, watching as you breathe in and out, chest heaving slowly and peacefully. Taehyung lets his tears fall silently for you, hating every moment of this, and finally gets up to pick you up in his arms.

He settles you into your bed carefully and thoughtfully, making sure you’re comfortably tucked in, and just as he’s about to move away, he feels a tug pulling him back in and Taehyung freezes.

For a moment there his heart skipped a beat, worried you had woken up from him moving you around, but when Taehyung looks back to see that your eyes are still closed, his heart only tugs with an ache.

Look at you, clinging to his warmth even in your dreams, as if a second longer without them brings a second more pain into your life and he knows, he knows that he’s hurting you. He knows that you spend nights after nights worried about how strong their love is for you, about being a burden, about not being enough, and so he hates himself most of all for not being the one to soothe those insecurities of yours away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly when he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. A teardrop escapes his eye, dropping onto your precious skin, and Taehyung cries a little more while trying his best to keep as silent as possible.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he says them in his head, worried you may wake up and pray that you can hear them in your dreams.

He kisses you a few times, delivering apologies after apologies, knowing that no matter how many times he utters them, they will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

When Taehyung leaves your room after some time, he takes another moment to himself right there in front of your bedroom door, and grabs a handful of his shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes, all the while knowing that sharp aching pain in his chest will never cease.

Someone’s footsteps are heard and when he looks up, he finds Jimin in the shadows of the darkness.

They don’t say a word to one another but Taehyung sees the way water glimmers in his soulmate’s eyes.

.

.

.

Five minutes.

It takes five minutes for Jungkook to make sure you aren’t returning for him to release his gun and slam it harshly to the ground.

It smashes into pieces with a loud sound but he doesn’t care. All he cares is for the hurt on your face he’s sure was there when he kept his back on you, speaking in short and blunt words to make you turn away from him.

The door is closed after you left but one look at the sandwich you left behind makes a tear fall from his eye.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” you told him, voice kept kind and gentle yet he heard the restrain, the way you were holding yourself back from him. You wanted his attention, his soft smile, his words of affirmation, to stop focusing so much on his targets and turn around to provide you with his full attention in the way he’s always done.

But Jungkook had only hurt you and forced you out the door.

“What does loyalty mean?” He asks Seokjin later that day, eyes hard and demanding after walking in through his door without so much of a greeting, but Jungkook doesn’t care. “If I betray this gang, will I have to pay with my life? Will you kill me?”

The eldest hovers his pen in mid-air, silent.

“I know I owe him my life, he’s done so much for me and I love him but…” His voice threatens to fall apart, jammed against his throat, but Jungkook swallows hard to speak again. “I love her too, hyung.” He lets out a shaky breath and tears fall. Tears only seem to be falling these days. “It isn’t fair, hyung, can’t you say something? Anything? He listens to you, can’t you do something? You still love her, don’t you? If you say something that’ll make him change his mind, we’ll be okay again and we won’t have to risk Y/N—”

“You know just as well as I do Namjoon does not change his mind once it’s made up.”

Jungkook chokes on his tears because he knows. He knows nothing can be done.

Namjoon has fallen out of love and the rest of them has to pay the price.

“It isn’t fair what we’re doing to her, hyung, can’t you see? I don’t want her to hate me and I don’t want to hate her. Why do we have to hurt just because things stopped working out for him? Why do we have to hurt her too?”

“Jungkook–”

“If this was another life, if I was an ordinary man,” he grits his teeth, staring hard at his eldest hyung, “I’d choose her in a heartbeat.”

Seokjin can say nothing to that.

.

.

.

In another life, Jungkook would make you his number one priority. In another life, Jungkook would make sure you were his first choice.

Because in this life you will always come second to Namjoon whether he wants that or not. In this life, he has to choose Namjoon, in this life he chose Namjoon first so he can’t choose anyone else.

Polyamory shouldn’t be this hard. It was working out well for them without any problems in between so why did something have to start going wrong when you came along? You’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve done all that you could, but now your biggest insecurity is biting back at you and there’s nothing Jungkook can do to change that.

He can’t choose you.

Jungkook cries that night, hard, and punches Namjoon against his chest because he doesn’t want to let you go. He loves you and he hates that he’s forced into a position where he has to choose between you and Namjoon.

For them, for the boys, that choice will always be Namjoon.

Because Namjoon was there first and Namjoon is their boss. Choosing between a woman of another gang and the man who leads your gang will only lead you down one road.

An illusion of free choice.

Because loyalty to the mafia comes first. Without the mafia, they have nothing.

“Why, why, why?” Jungkook pleads in a broken voice, the punches he gives out weakening by the second and Namjoon stands there, taking it all in.

They hate it.

They hate it because you’ve voiced your insecurities before. Your insecurities about being a second choice, being left behind, and not being enough for them. You will always be enough for them, always, but when it comes to having to choose between their mafia and you, you will always be the second choice.

“Then…let’s divorce.”

Three words.

Gentle eyes.

A kind smile.

Breaking.

Breaking.

Broken.

They broke you.

.

.

.

“You’re okay with this?” Hoseok sits against a wall, his head lowered with no energy left in him as he asks Yoongi that question. 

The room remains quiet for the longest time as Yoongi holds his breath and Hoseok sits there, the fight in him slipping away as tears fall from his eyes, hidden through the darkness of his hair. Yoongi can tell he’s crying with the way his shoulders trembles and it’s a sight that breaks him.

A sight that hurts him.

“I thought you loved her, hyung, I thought…I thought that we…that…” The lump in his throat makes it hard for him to make out proper words and while Yoongi tries to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, Hoseok only shakes it off with a forceful flick, not wanting his sympathy. “You’re a coward,” he utters with disgust as he takes a stand, refusing to meet him in the eyes. “Just because we weren’t legally married to her doesn’t mean it’s okay to let her fall victim to Namjoon’s abuse. You think you’re not bad? That it’s easier to forgive you because you didn’t do anything?”

He scoffs, laughing bitterly. “No hyung. It’s because you didn’t do anything that probably drove her to end things. Am I good enough?” He quotes your thoughts, uttering them clearly for Yoongi to hear every word. “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I did? Why won’t they look at me? Why won’t they care for me? They still love me, right? Everything’s my fault, isn’t it? Namjoon doesn’t like me but they still do, right? They still care, right? Ah, but if they do then that means I’m forcing them to choose between me and Namjoon. Who will they choose? They’ll choose Namjoon because they loved him first. They love him. They love Namjoon. Namjoon. Namjoon. And I will always be their second choice.”

Hoseok pushes Yoongi out of anger, hating every bit of this as more tears fall, his rage getting the best of him. “How dare you let her biggest nightmare come true? Made her think she would always be our second choice?”

“Hoseok—”

“While I laid there on the hospital bed thinking everything was fine, that everything was perfect and everything was good, you could’ve done something. Y/N wasn’t ever going to tell me anything no matter how much I begged it out of her. She was hurting and yet she always smiled my way, pretending all was okay and you know what’s crazy? How convincing she was.”

You just missed him, you’d tell him, that you were worried about his injuries hurting him and while a part of that must’ve been true, Hoseok knows damn well it wasn’t all of your worries.

You lied to him and he couldn’t see through those lies. Just what else were you hiding from him? What else did you hide under that perfect dollhouse smile? Living in a world that looked so perfect, filled with so many beautiful things, of sunshine and rainbows, with nothing but laughter and a sweet smile. You filled his world with warmth, with so much care and patience, always knowing just what to do when things weren’t right, when things went wrong.

You always knew.

Always knew whenever his smile was fake, when he felt as if the world was caving in, when he’d brave himself and put on a facade that would fool millions.

Among the seven billion people that live on this earth, you’re the only one who always knew the second something was wrong with him and in turn, Hoseok fell blind to your own sufferings, to your hurting, to your pains.

He thought he knew you best but he didn’t.

He never did.

I’m tired, you told him, and Hoseok’s eyes blind with tears as he looks up at his hyung, a fist ready to land right upon his face if it weren’t for someone holding him back.

Yoongi would have let him punch him but Jungkook doesn’t.

“Hyung, stop,” the youngest one says in a plea as he forces Hoseok away with a protective stance before the older one.

Their eyes meet and Hoseok knows. Hoseok knows he can’t let his rage blind him into hurting his loved ones so he takes a step back, punching the wall instead.

“Hyung-!”

“How did she look, Jungkook?” He turns to him with a force, hand trembling, knuckles bruised as blood drips from his ripped skin.

“Hyung..”

“Tell me, Jungkook. How did she look?” He asks again with a little more force, teeth gritting. “When you forced her to her breaking point, when you stood there doing nothing but watched on, not caring to do a single thing to help her out? How did she look when she took off her wedding ring and said she wanted a divorce? I know you were there,” he takes a glance at Yoongi, “both of you. All of you.” He glances back at Jungkook, jaw clenched tightly as he demands an answer.

The younger one averts his gaze to the floor, biting onto his lower lip as he usually does when he’s trying to remain calm over his emotions. He can feel the tears coming when he remembers your face.

Your precious, precious face.

So broken and defeated.

“She smiled,” he says and Hoseok’s face crumbles.

His lips quiver as he turns back to the wall, punching and punching.

“Hyung, stop! Please!”

Even as Jungkook tries to pull him back, Hoseok pushes him off aggressively. “You don’t deserve to cry, Jungkook!” He shouts with so much emotions it breaks them both. “You don’t deserve to regret it now. Not now, not when everything’s done and over with. It’s too late to cry now. It’s too late to feel guilty for what you’ve done.”

He rips his gaze from the tears that fall down Jungkook’s cheeks, looking away from the both of them as he hits his forehead against the wall. The punches that follow weaken and even with the pain he feels from his knuckles, Hoseok knows it’ll never hurt more than how much they’ve hurt you.

He breaks down again for the hundredth time that day, strength falling weak. “You could’ve done something but you didn’t,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “You could’ve…you could’ve saved her. I love her so, so much. How could you do that to me? To her? How could you…?”

.

.

.

When Yoongi cries, he does it softly and quietly and keeps it to himself. He doesn’t like bothering people, doesn’t like the attention and questions that he earns from people when they do see him cry because he’ll never know what to say.

He hates explaining himself and would rather be invisible to the world than anything else in those moments.

He’s usually good at hiding it when he’s cried. He’ll put on a straight face and pretend those past few minutes of shedding tears were nonexistent, but for some reason, someone always manages to see right through him.

“Hyung?” Hoseok will ask after him but Hoseok isn’t here to look out for him now. He’s got his own tears to worry about.

“Yoongi?” And you’re gone.

Gone from his life because he’s pushed you away and didn’t do anything to stop you.

You’re gone, no longer there to collect after his tears.

“I thought you loved her.”

He did. He does. He does.

But Hoseok’s right; he could have saved you. He could have done something, to have done anything, to have at least made it hurt less, to have protected you from Namjoon’s anger. He could have shielded you from such words that had broken you to pieces but his negligence and the way he left you to deal with everything all on your own had only hurt you more.

He broke you.

Hoseok’s right. He might not have been the one who had broken you down with crude words but he’s still part of the reason you were driven down the edge of the cliff. He’s just as bad, just as bad as Namjoon, and shedding any tears now, regretting anything now is meaningless.

You’re gone.

.

.

.

“Do you love me?” Jimin asks, his voice small and quiet.

“I love you,” Namjoon nods.

He falls silent, eyes still in his lap as he refuses to look up. Namjoon doesn’t know what to say nor does he know what Jimin’s trying to say but still he waits there, patient enough to sit through however long it will take for Jimin to speak again, even if that means missing his meeting.

“Do you love me the same as the day you fell in love with me?” Jimin asks as if that had been the question he was meaning to ask all along.

“I do,” Namjoon answers. “Though if anything, I probably love you more than that day.”

“Ah.” Jimin nods, falling silent once more, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, weaker, as if afraid to offend his lover but at the same time, knowing he has to say it. “Then why couldn’t it be the same for her?”

Her.

You.

Namjoon’s heart aches when he hears Jimin sniffle.

“Why couldn’t…why couldn’t you love her all the same? I…I was so cold to her.” His voice breaks, trembling. “I ignored her when she sought for my attention, for my love, and despite how many times I pushed her away, she still pressed on a smile as if saying that she understood because I was busy. I wasn’t busy, hell if she asked, I’d stop everything just to spend more time with her — she doesn’t even have to ask and I’d do it in a heartbeat. And yet…yet I…”

“Jimin..-”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes though he feels no courage to wipe the tears that have fallen, knowing only more was to come. “I’m sorry, Namjoon, I know I can’t force your feelings to change but I…I just…I wish things didn’t end like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Namjoon. I’m so, so sorry.”

Sorry for loving you, for choosing you.

Namjoon knows he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Jimin’s apology. But as he sits there before the younger man, his voice refuses to leave his throat as he watches him break before him, tears falling, head refusing to even look up at him.

They love him and they chose him but in the end, they will always love you.

Why did he stop loving you?

Why did he have to break them like this?

.

.

.

“Do you think I’m selfish?”

Seokjin stops in his tracks just as he was on his way out, pausing to turn around and look at the man who sits alone in his chair, eyes distant as he stares blankly at nothing before him, head in a space elsewhere.

“Yeah,” the eldest admits without a thought and although Namjoon knows just how true that is, it still hurts to hear the truth. “I love you, Namjoon, but…do you really have no remorse?” Seokjin steps over towards him, eyes never leaving as he awaits the answer to his question.

“You know more than I do feelings are things that can never be forced,” Namjoon responds robotically.

“That may be true but that doesn’t mean what you did was right.” He places his papers onto the desk, lips pressed into a straight line. “Hoseok refuses to even look at us and the others…they aren’t doing well. Jungkook has gone completely silent, Taehyung refuses to leave his lab, Jimin doesn’t smile anymore, and Yoongi almost got himself killed the other night because he couldn’t focus. Did you really want Y/N to hate us that much? So that it’d be easier for her to leave? From what I saw, it didn’t look easy in the slightest for her.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Seokjin continues with his voice slowly growing strained as a lump grows in his throat, threatening to hide his voice, threatening to break. He presses on. “I put up with your play because between you and her, the only choice I could choose was you. This life has tied us down together, I have nothing if I leave the mafia. We owe you our lives and loyalty to the gang comes first and foremost but if I was a normal man who didn’t kill for a living, who do you think I would have chosen in that case?”

Namjoon remains silent upon those words.

“You thought you’d do all that you could to make her hate you because then it’d be easier for her to leave that way? Namjoon, can’t you see? Y/N could never hate you no matter what you do. She loves you too much for that. And yet you forced her to rip that ring off her finger.”

“If she stayed…I would have forced the six of you into a hard place.”

He knows. Seokjin knows.

Namjoon falling out of love would have broken the relationship either way and inevitably force them to pick a side. Allowing you to leave was him making their choice a little easier because they would have inevitably chosen to stay with him.

Loyalty to the mafia comes first.

Loyalty.

But, “That doesn’t mean she deserved what we did to her.”

“...I know.”

.

.

.

It takes a lot for someone like Seokjin to cry. Out of all the members in the group, no one has ever seen him shed a tear and he intends to keep it that way.

So when night falls and no one is by his side, Seokjin leaves the sanctuary of Bangtan’s manor and goes on a long, long drive down a road that never seems to end. Everything is silent when he stops in the middle of nowhere, eyes staring blankly at the stars against the horizon before him.

He remembers one specific night when he thought everyone was asleep, when he thought he was safe all to himself, only to hear a small little voice reaching out to him when he was on his way out the door.

“Seokjin?” You called unto him sweetly, a small croak in your voice indicating that you had just woken up. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, an action that caused him to immediately walk over to grab your hands away.

“What’re you doing up in the middle of the night?” He had asked. This was a year ago when things were okay, when things weren’t falling apart.

“I think I woke up because..hm…someone feels a little lonely tonight.”

“You?”

“You,” you said, eyes looking up right at him and for a second there Seokjin felt as if you had seen right through him, as if your eyes were magic and could see a portal right into his soul. He tried to shake it off, not wanting to make it a big deal, but you asked if you could go with him on the drive instead, refusing to let him be.

There was a gentle smile resting on your face as if you knew, as if all the parts of him that he was hiding from you and the members were unveiling just by a single look from you. He allowed you to ride along with him but kept silent and you basked in that silence, not uttering a single word to push him through anything he didn’t want to say.

No one’s ever seen Seokjin cry but he’s seen you cry before, lots and lots of times. And that night, you cried again right before him when he spoke the tales of his past, the life he lived before he met Namjoon, of the little boy he was who had been exploited by the people around him as if he was nothing but a living doll who had no control over his fate.

You cried hard, words choked up against your throat when you tried to say something until it got too much you resigned to just crying.

“I’m sorry,” you said, as if you were the one who had put him in such a situation, as if you were the goddess of fate that had led him to lead such a life.

In the middle of the night with nothing but the light of the stars up above shining your ways, he held onto you as you cried for him, cursing at the world for hurting the little boy that he was and for putting him through so much.

But he reassured you that he was okay now, that he didn’t have to dwell on the past anymore because he was saved. Namjoon saved him, took his hand, and gave him the life he so deserved from the very beginning.

Namjoon saved him.

Namjoon.

“Please.” The image of you kneeling on the floor flashes in his mind. Your broken voice, desperate and craving for the warmth they once so effortlessly gave you. “Please, I...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A tear falls from Seokjin’s eye, and when one falls, another follows along until the whole dam breaks and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.

He loves you.

Seokjin loves you so much.

But does he really deserve to say any of that now after tearing you down to pieces?

.

.

.

It was a rough, rocky road. Everything fell apart after the divorce and Namjoon took all the blames for it because he knew everything was his fault; Jungkook and Yoongi’s insomnia, Taehyung being holed up in his lab refusing to speak, Jimin’s silence, Seokjin’s anger, and Hoseok’s pains and distance.

They fell into a place darker than the depth of the ocean and Namjoon himself could feel just how different things turned out to be after you left. 

It was odd how things were okay before you came into the picture but the second you left after making such an impact in their lives, nothing was ever the same again. It was like a piece of them was missing, broken hearts that could never be filled, their souls shattered.

Your smiles, your giggles, your kindness, and your warmth.

All of it was gone.

Even the ones who never fell in love with you in the first place could feel just how empty the mafia came to be after you left. You treated the mafia well, after all, taking the effort in getting to know their names, appreciating them for their works, and greeting them with smiles whenever you got the chance. You made an impact in everyone’s lives and Namjoon took that all away from them.

But regretting was something that could never happen.

He could regret and feel guilty for all he wants, he knows he can never get you back. The contract the two of you made in the lone presence of each other wrote out rules upon never seeing each other again, no matter the circumstances.

You wrote that line yourself and it was probably a way for you to properly heal from them. Seeing them would only hurt you after all, and Namjoon accepted the words of the contract.

He has to abide by them.

Everything was his fault and he could feel the weight of that burden shaking his core. But the boys loved him, they love him.

And because of that, eventually, things came back together.

Piece by piece.

With lots of patience and lots of time.

They grew to forgive him, knew that losing feelings wasn’t something that was under his control, but Namjoon knows a part of them will always resent him for the way he treated you after he gave up on trying to keep the relationship together. You didn’t deserve his heartless actions towards you after all, and Namjoon knows that.

It took Hoseok the longest time to return to their side but he came back.

Eventually.

But while the rest of them came to accept the fact that you’re gone from their lives, Namjoon knows Hoseok still holds onto a small little hope from within.

Because whether it was out of romantic or platonic feelings, Hoseok never stopped loving you.

.

.

.

Hoseok doesn’t look at him the same way but Hoseok still loves him and Hoseok still cares.

And perhaps the reason why Hoseok decided to return to his side is because he knows you would rather it turn out that way than be the reason for their downfall.

Truth is nothing was ever your fault, Namjoon can admit that. He can admit that everything was his fault, that he is all to blame, and that a part of him will always seek for an answer as to why he stopped loving you.

He never meant to, never meant to grow irritated, never meant to get impatient, get angry, upset, and made you out to be the villain when in reality, everything was his fault. He never meant to grow envious of the way you grew up, living a peaceful life adored by your father. You told him that just because you grew up differently from him didn’t mean you didn’t have a rough time and Namjoon knows that.

He knows it in the way you have scars down your back, hidden away from prying eyes. He knows it in the way you present yourself, always kind, always gentle, towards anyone and everyone. He knows it in the way you flinch at guns, when you’d wake in the middle of the night because of nightmares, when you’d silently reach out for a hand to touch you, for arms to caress you. He knows it in the way you hold your walls way up high, always there for others but afraid to let anyone in.

He should have been more patient, should have been more careful, but his restlessness and his greed got the best of him. He wanted to know, to hear, to help, to support, but in doing so, grew impatient and snapped at you.

His excuse was wanting to make you hate him and as a result, hoped to create an easier path for you to walk on when you returned to your father. 

But in truth Seokjin was right. He knew, he always knew, that you’d never have it in your heart to come to hate him. You’re too kind for that, too gentle, too forgiving, and too loving.

You loved him too much to hate him.

“Hyung…” He stares at the picture of his precious older brother who in thought still lives and is hidden away somewhere. Namjoon lets a tear slip when he hangs his head, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his thighs. “Tell me what to do, hyung…”

The only thing that keeps him from feeling too much guilt is the fact that you have a home to return to. A loving father, a loving family, a loving mafia who holds you to a pedestal and would never let anything happen to you.

.

.

.

Bang!

Sweet little Y/N.

Sweet and kind and gentle.

The image shatters like a glass tipped over the table with nothing soft to land on, falling into tiny little pieces with nothing that can be done to put it back to one full glass.

You hold your gun right at him, finger ready to pull the trigger without a blink in the eyes as the roaring thunder pours on and on, the only sound filling up the silence that has walked in.

The loving father that Namjoon thought him to be lies dead on the ground behind you, and the very daughter who, without hesitation, pulled the trigger on, stands before him with eyes he has never seen before.

No light shines in those eyes, not in the way he was used to, as if darkness took control of your heart and snatched away the precious light that once lit up his whole world.

Dead.

What happened to the Y/N he knew?

.

.

.

“I killed him.”

I killed him.

I killed him, I killed him, IkilledhimIkilledhimIkilledhim.

The brother he loves with all his heart, the brother who stood by his side, there from the very moment he came out of his mother’s womb, the one who held his heart, who stood against his father whenever he made a mistake, protecting him, loving him.

The very brother he held onto the hope of finding him someday lost somewhere on this tiny little Earth.

Is dead.

“..When I come back, we’ll take over Bangtan together and lead the gang into a new era.”

“You promise?”

“Mmn, I promise.”

A promise broken. A promise shattered.

“I have a brother. He…he’s missing. I don’t know where he is and I don’t know where he went but he made me a promise that he’d return. I’m saving my seat on the throne for him so that when he returns, he can sit on a chair that’s warm rather than cold.”

“You’re going to give up your seat for him?” You ask, a small little tilt in your head.

“Mmn,” Namjoon nods as a tear slips from his eye. He keeps a pressed smile on his face as he looks back at you who sits right beside him, listening to every word he has to say with much patience and much love. “The throne was rightfully his after all.”

“What will you do when he returns?”

You don’t question his disappearance, you don’t doubt Namjoon when he says his brother will return. It’s been years and those years made his own allies doubt in his words but you, you keep his hopes alive, shining bright in the darkness of the night, without any doubt clouding your thoughts.

You believe that his brother will return to his side and Namjoon smiles just as another tear falls.

“Hmm..I’d love to go on vacation with the six of you,” he says in a jest, chuckling as he imagines the scene. “Though I’ll probably have to stay a few years to help Jungwon out first, get him adjusted back into Bangtan, let him catch up on everything’s he’s missed in the past few years.”

“And then?”

“And then,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, “we’ll travel the world, go wherever you’d like.”

“Wherever I’d like?”

“Mmn. Wherever you’d like.” Namjoon looks down at you with a gentle smile as you lean in close to his chest, eyes looking straight up at him. “If you could go anywhere in this world, where would you go?”

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, thinking, but the thought doesn’t stray too far because you’re back to answer him in a heartbeat. “I wanna go where the sun never sets. I wanna go to the Land of the Midnight Sun.”

Namjoon chuckles at your reply because it’s such a you response. You hate the night, you hate the darkness. “Alright,” he says as your hand reaches out to brush away the last of his remaining tears. “We’ll go there,” he promises with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “When my brother returns, I’ll take you there.”

“The day of the incident, I watched him with my very own eyes as life slipped away from him. His eyes were lifeless, dead, a corpse. In the same way I killed my mother and father, I killed your brother as well. The man who cared so much for me died at my very own hands. His death was all..my...fault.”

“Joon!” He hears his brother’s voice in the back of his mind.

“Joon!” He hears your voice in the far, distant memories.

Dead.

Dead.

They’re both dead.

The brother whom he loved more than anything in this world.

The woman who once held light to his world.

You stand before him without an ounce of emotion on your face, eyes as dead as the night you held onto Seokjin, crying out two single words uttered in a soft, soft whisper.

“Save me,” you said before falling lifeless right before their eyes.

His hands tremble by his side, fingers crawling into a fist, and he knows, he knows he shouldn’t harm you in any way, not after what you’d gone through in London, not after what Leehyung had done to you. He knows, he knows, and yet the rage and anger, the disappointment and hurt he feels overtakes his control and he lunges right at you in a blinding rage.

You killed his brother.

The first man who loved him without an ounce of hatred in his heart, the first man to accept him and welcome him into this world.

You killed his brother.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the liar

— summary: hoseok lied about choosing you, namjoon lied about leaving you, but the biggest liar of them all is you

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 9.1k

— warnings: mentions of food poisoning, mentions of starving, fear of food, allusions to eating disorder, manipulation, y/n isn't in her right mind, talks of death, death attempt, ptsd

— PART 17 / previous post / masterpost

“Isn’t she pretty?” You say as you play with the white thin strings that hold the doll upright. “A pretty little doll, so perfect.”

She wears a white dress that falls to her ankles, dark black hair held in an updo, eyes that flutter open and close each time you move her head up and down, her wrists, back, head, and legs all held up by thin strings.

So petite and fragile.

“Look Dasom, watch this.” You stand from your seat, the strings in one hand as you hold it up into the air, and reach for the scissors. Dasom watches, lips sealed, her back standing straight with hands held behind. You take the scissors and you stare right at her, cutting the strings where they’re held together in your hands.

And down the doll falls in an instant.

Breaking.

Dasom doesn’t flinch.

“Pitiful, isn’t she?” You place the scissors onto the table and crouch down to pick the broken doll up. The wrists where the strings held caused her hand to detach from her body, a leg twisted, a knee to her foot also detached, bits of pieces broken like scars, no longer a part of her body anymore, and one eye remains wide open while the other falls half-lidded. 

“The doll once belonged to someone, until it was passed over and promised by a new owner to always hold on and never let go. The new owner treated her well for some time but unexpectedly, they decided to cut all the strings and as a result, here she lies, broken on the ground, and returned to the previous owner to…reattach the strings once more.” You look up at her as you stand back up again and place the doll on the table, right next to the scissors. “You understand that, don’t you? After all, when we first met, you were the same; a perfect little doll forcibly passed onto my father.”

Dasom remains quiet but you see the way she clenches her jaws and you look back down at the doll. You take the hand that broke away itself from the body after its fall and look at it for some time.

“We’re the only ones who can fix ourselves, Dasom. If we trust in anyone else, who’s to say they won’t break us more than we are now? That’s why you cannot trust anyone, not even I. Because one day, I may betray you. Just as one day, you may betray me. Do not look at me as your savior, do not get blinded for even a moment, because when it comes down to it, one day…I may even end up just like my father and hurt you all over again. And when that moment comes, if I ever betray your trust and become the person my father was…your trust in me will hurt you more than anything. So never trust me, Dasom. Never.”

She stands alone in the room when you leave, heels clicking away, head never turning back for a second glance.

Dasom stands there for the longest time, staring at the broken doll who lays on the table, the scissors right beside her, and just before any memories can fall into her thoughts, the door opens to reveal Mingyu.

“What did boss tell you?” He asks when he walks in, and pauses momentarily at the broken doll on the table, before he looks at Dasom again, a mark of concern on his features. “Did she say something out of line?”

She looks up, meeting his gaze as her shoulder tenses even more. “She reminded me not to trust her,” she says, her brows furrowed. “She warned me to not look at her as a savior, that there will always be a chance she may end up like her father, like my perpetrator, like our perpetrator…..like her perpetrator….and that where we are now is just a fleeting moment in time, that just because she saved me doesn’t mean she can’t also be the one to cut my strings and I’ll end up more broken than I am…was.”

Mingyu keeps his eyes on her when she reaches for the doll, caressing it while throwing the scissors roughly to the side. Away from view.

“She said that only I can fix whatever was broken when my family was still alive and when her father still lived.”

“So. Do you believe her?”

“No,” she says without hesitation, eyes looking up at him with desperation meant for him to understand. “Because she saved me. She fixed me. Us. She took all the pieces that make up the Reapers, sewed our hands and feet, opened our eyes, helped us stand and run and fight, and become the sort of people that we are now, strong enough to protect her, to return the kindness that she had in her heart to fix what had been left broken by the people that have hurt us but we’ll never be enough, will we? No matter what we do, we’ll never be able to save her.”

“...” Mingyu takes a step forward to gently caress the hair of the broken doll in Dasom’s hand. He smooths down the disheveled mess and plays with the broken eye, silent for a moment, before he utters the words that the Reapers know yet hate to hear the most.

“Because boss doesn’t want to be saved.”

.

.

.

There is one part of the manor you’ve never returned to ever since destroying and rebuilding what your father cherished ever since that night you came back with news of his death and decided to rid all of his followers. There is one part of the manor you left untouched, one part of the manor even your reapers do not go near; your annex.

Where resides your old room, Mister Butler’s old room, the torture rooms; Yuna’s room 157, and,

The White Room.

You don’t know why your feet have decided to drag you down here, why you’re walking this way. It’s been months after all, months. You remember your eyes catching a glimpse of the calendar in that room you were in with Dasom and realize that it’s almost been a year since you decided to pursue your revenge plan.

It’s almost been a year.

A year.

A year since your father’s death, a year since his life ended and you seeking for your supposed lost freedom, a year since you’ve met with your ex-boyfriends, ex-husband, and although the revenge isn’t even a step close to being completed, perhaps now is when Namjoon will decide upon going back to the two of you never seeing each other again.

It won’t be unexpected.

You’ve given him the bait, after all, told him you killed his precious older brother, so you’re sure there’s only so little time left before he calls you over to discuss business on the alliance. After taking some time for grievance and taking in what you told him, he’ll end things.

It’ll end soon and you won’t have to see them ever again.

It’ll end soon.

So perhaps the reason why you’re walking towards an empty room, Mister Butler’s room, is for this very fact; to apologize.

Because if you can’t give Namjoon the truth, if you have to hold your peace forever and make him think you’re the bad guy, make him believe that all those hopes and dreams he had were for naught and turn you into the villain that you are so that he can hate you and push you away, the least you can do is apologize to his older brother.

Because despite how cruel Namjoon was to you in the last weeks of your broken marriage, Mingyu is right in saying that he didn’t deserve what you’ve done.

Meeting toxicity with toxicity will only fire back in the end.

And even if you did have a good reason, it’s still a selfish reason.

But Namjoon was getting too close to your liking. He was beginning to doubt, beginning to question, and you didn’t like questions because questions meant getting close to the truth, questions meant doubting the facade you pull every day in front of everyone, questions meant reviewing the past and realizing something was wrong from the very beginning.

You can’t have him doubting your happy fairytale with your father, the story made of rainbows and sunshine, the house of cards you and your father created with your hard work and easy lies.

Letting him think you’re the bad guy is the only thing you can do.

The hallway down the annex is daunting. 

Terrifying.

You hate all the repressed memories that wish to reappear, the cold air it carries, the ghosts of the past trying to touch your shoulder and crawl back into your life. It’s dark, so dark, and with each step echoes the daunting wails of the ghosts who hold onto your ankles, unwilling to let go.

The air is heavy, hoping to drag you down with the memories. Your footsteps are heavy.

You hate the distant screams you hear in the back of your mind. You hate the silence.

The silence.

The silence.

You feel your hands trembling, the way your knees falter and the heels underneath you threaten to twist. It feels numb. Your legs feel numb. But you keep your eyes straight ahead, not daring to take a glance to the side otherwise all those memories you’ve tried so hard to keep hidden will resurface and you can’t have that.

You can’t have it.

So when you reach Mister Butler’s room, you just simply stand right before it, facing it head-on but refusing to reach a hand out, twist the knob, and take a step in.

You stand there, staring.

You know that the room is empty; no furniture, no presence, nothing, and so you keep it that way because you’d rather imagine there is something in there.

His old bed, his old closet, the precious things that he kept in that room……Him.

Him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, head lowered, eyes falling to your feet, bowed into a ninety-degree level. “I’m sorry.”

There is no one here, no one except you, but you still feel the coziness in the lost fragments of your memories, the only warmth in this annex, distant but felt, just like in the past. A gentle child’s voice echoes in your ears, laughing. An older gentleman follows along, kind and sweet just as it always was.

Why did he have to come here? Why couldn’t he have stayed at his own home? Why did he care for a child who held no relation to him?

He should have stayed, shouldn’t have taken up the mission his father gave him, stayed with his little brother and he’d have still been alive.

In meeting you, he died. In loving you, his life was taken away.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say softly, knowing he hears every word you utter whether it’s barely audible or not. “I’ve hurt your little brother, told him a lie he believed in, crushed his hopes of seeing you reappear in his life ever again. I’m sorry for hurting him…If you were here, would you forgive me? Mister Butler, I…please…tell me what to do…”

There were times when you wished everything had been nothing but a long, long nightmare. Times when you’d wake up and run to Mister Butler’s room just around the corner, hoping, searching, just to see nothing.

No warmth. No smile. No kindness.

No Mister Butler.

He told you about his little brother once. Once. When he was tired and you were on the brink of falling asleep. You remember the gentle hand that patted your head ever so often, his voice soft when he spoke of his brother, eyes filled with happiness but with a bit of regret, a bit of guilt, a bit of longing.

He wanted to return, you realized years later and to this day you still wonder why he hadn’t. He should have, he had his chances, you were sure of it. If Namjoon and his father are both men known for their intelligence, then you’re sure Mister Butler should have been able to make his escape with the brain that he had.

But he never left and sometimes you wonder.

Was it because of you?

Did he stay because of you?

“I killed him,” the words repeat in the back of your head as you recall Namjoon’s confrontation. You may have not been the one to have pulled the trigger but perhaps you were the cause for it. Father told you he shot him because he was your weakness and perhaps father knew at the time he was an enemy in disguise, but at the end of the day, Mister Butler could have escaped.

“I killed him because of you,” Father said and for a while, you believed it. But there was another time you doubted his words, believed that it was just his way of manipulating you once more, that he was just saying it because he wanted to hurt a little kid like you.

And now that you think about it, perhaps you really did kill him. Because father’s right.

If it wasn’t for you, he would have been an ordinary man who didn’t catch father’s attention. If it wasn’t for you, father wouldn’t have cared about his existence. The very fact that Mister Butler looked out for you, cared for you, showed you kindness, and loved you, was the very reason father saw through him and decided to kill him.

If it wasn’t for you, he could have lived.

He could have lived.

You bite onto your lower lip, hard, and a memory resurfaces.

“Don’t bite too hard, young miss, you’ll bleed.”

He’s crouched down to your level, a hand reaching out to swipe along your lips when your teeth bite against it, while his other hand holds your head in gentle strokes, soothing whatever it is that has upset you this time.

“..Why?” You croak out, tears held back as you stare up at him with wide, bulged-out eyes, not daring to blink otherwise the tears will roll down your cheeks. Father says crying is weak. Father hates tears and you don’t want him to keep hating you.

You have to be loved. You have to earn his love. And only good girls can be loved. Only strong girls.

“If I do this, then it’ll be easier to not cry.”

Mister Butler knits his brows, that kind smile replaced by pained anguish. “If you do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care,” you say. “Father doesn’t like people who cry and if I keep being weak, I’ll never earn father’s love. I have to earn his love otherwise I’ll never be capable of love and—”

He cuts you off when he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around your petite body and pressing your face into his chest. “Don’t say that.” His voice sounds so odd when he says that. “Don’t, please..please don’t.” As if he were the one in pain, as if he were the one hurting in your stead, like an older brother who can’t bear the sight of his little sister in pain. Like it’s physically hurting him that you’re hurting. “You are worth so much more than what your father thinks of you as, my lady.”

“But I..I’m not.” You try to force yourself away from his embrace, hands balling into fists as you punch his chest and push him away. You can never be anywhere stronger than Mister Butler but he lets go, leaves because you want him to go. “If you keep showing me kindness, if you keep spoiling me, I will never get strong.”

“You don’t have to be strong.”

“But I do! Because then father will never love me!”

His face contours in pained frustration as he clenches his jaw and when you think about it now, perhaps what Mister Butler wanted to say was ‘Your father will never love you no matter how weak or strong you are’ and he’s right. Father is a monster who cannot love another human being.

But the little you then would never understand and would only hurt more if he were to utter such words.

So he swallows those words and holds your shoulders, keeping his anger in to not scare you off.

“Do you think of yourself as incapable of being loved because you are weak?” He asks and you nod.

“I can’t be loved. No one will love me if I’m weak.”

“I love you,” Mister Butler says. “I love you,” he stresses. “I promise I love you so please…please cry.” He cups your tiny face in his large hands, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “You don’t have to hold it in, young miss. When you’re around me, you don’t have to worry about trying to act proper and trying to act strong because I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. You can lash out, you can throw a tantrum, you can scream at me and hit me and spit in my face and—”

“I’d never!” You quickly shout, face contouring in horror as if the very thought of it could break you. “I’d never, Mister Butler, I’d never.”

“I know,” he nods, pressing his forehead to yours, “I know but my lady, you…you don’t have to worry about anything because no matter what happens, I’ll love you. Even if you cry, young miss, I’m right here. I won’t leave, I won’t throw you away so it’s okay. It’s okay to cry because I’m here. I’ll still love you no matter what. So stop holding those tears in, yeah? Cry. It’s alright to cry.”

“But..-”

“No one’s here. No one can hear you in this room. It’s soundproof and no one ever comes around in these halls so it’s okay. No one can hear you except me. And I love you so it’s okay. It’s okay, young miss. It’s okay to cry.”

Your lips quiver, trembling, and he nods, encouraging you. When the first tear falls with consent, the rest follows and you close your eyes shut, allowing them all to fall like rushing waterfalls.

Against all the things your father had instilled in you, Mister Butler doesn’t leave, he doesn’t discard you. He presses your face into his chest, holds you as tight as he can, and in the sounds of your cries, you don’t realize that he trembles slightly, afraid, frightened, and angry.

You don’t remember the last time you cried but you know that it was before Mingyu came. Before he arrived.

You were broken before he arrived so Yuna is the only Reaper who has ever seen you cry but you don’t know if she can recall the exact moment you stopped shedding tears.

It’s been a while even you can’t remember. Your memories are hazy from those times, when things were rougher, when it was only Yuna who watched you every day like a frightened child losing their precious mother who lied on their deathbed.

Yuna was the only one who saw you through it all, who was there when you still had a soft heart, innocent and precious, who smiled kindly. She was there to see that light stripped away from your eyes, right there when you had let the darkness win, when you succumbed to it.

When you fell silent. Completely silent.

When you broke.

She was right there. The only Reaper to know and to remember all that you were and all that was lost. She may never be able to see again but you remember those eyes, those eyes that were far too young to see such a thing happening right before her.

Those precious eyes that you yourself had to rid of.

Perhaps that’s why in some ways, the others are a little gentler towards her and allow her to take care of your needs when Mingyu isn’t there. Perhaps that’s why they let her near you when you don’t want anyone in.

And perhaps that’s why you let her in.

Because she knows and because she remembers the things even you can’t remember.

Yuna remembers. She remembers everything.

But she was too young to lead the Reapers, too young to know everything on what to do when it came to you and your needs. You needed so much, too much, and her young mind wouldn’t allow her to think things through properly to know just what to do.

When you’d panic, when you’d freeze up, when you’d grow angry, when you’d refuse to eat anything, when you’d get silent, completely silent.

You needed to be saved and Yuna didn’t know how to do it.

She was too young.

While she knew how to comfort and provide you warmth, you needed much more than that, you needed a foundation that could hold you steady and keep you grounded. You needed Mingyu.

And Mingyu came.

And together, the two of them became the first Reapers only loyal to you, building something much stronger than anyone could ever imagine.

You saved Dasom, Mingyu allowed her to pledge her allegiance, and together with Yuna, they taught her on what she needed to know.

Then Yeonjun came along and the same thing repeated over and over again until you created a network of Reapers under your own control, who were loyal to you, and who hated your father all the same.

None of them, except Yuna, has ever seen you cry.

Not even Mingyu.

But you’ll never show them now, or ever. Because you’ve lost it all. 

Your eyes can no longer cry.

Father has trained you well.

“My lady?” You hear footsteps, two pairs, and look up to find Yuna and Yeonjun walking toward you.

How they knew where to find you, you’ll never know, but you guess no matter what happens, your Reapers will always manage to find you wherever you are so you shouldn’t be surprised.

They take one look at the door beside you and they can already imply just why you were down here in the annex where you’ve forbidden yourself to come to. There’s something in Yuna’s hand which she hides away behind her back after taking a glance at the door, but you’ve already caught sight of it; it’s a letter.

A letter. Which means Namjoon has finally decided to formally end things.

You ignore it.

“Yuna. Yeonjun.” They come at your call. “I hate this place,” you say. “I hate it. I hate it.”

The air feels heavier, trying to constrict your breathing, something weighing on your chest, something trying to tear you down.

Your hand trembles when you reach out and Yuna’s right there to help you keep steady on your feet as Yeonjun offers his back to you. You climb on with some effort, eyes shut tightly closed as you press your face into his shoulder, hating everything about this annex.

It’s cold, too cold. You tighten your hold on Yeonjun, terrified and wanting the ground to swallow you whole so that you can disappear forever. You want to get out. Get out.

Everything screams at you in your head, the ghosts of the past reappearing, the distant sound of a little girl crying and begging and pleading for someone, anyone, while the two guards stand completely silent outside the doors of the White Room, not moving a single inch despite how hard she screams at them to come, to save her.

You hear it loud and clear in your head.

Loud and loud and loud in the silence of the annex.

Yeonjun runs out of here in an instant.

.

.

.

“Are you disappointed?” You ask, a small tilt in your head, raising a brow, with a quirk to the corner of your lips.

You look calm, carefree, and that playful smirk on your face is almost taunting him but Hoseok knows better than that. He knows not to take the bait in the same way Namjoon and the others have. This is just a facade. 

A facade.

“How can I be disappointed…when it wasn’t you who killed him?” He asks and there’s a small little falter in your lips.

The sharp corner falls and your eyelids rest to show your disappointment in him not catching the fishing hook you’ve dropped into the pond. You look upset, as if wondering why he still wishes to believe in you, why he still remembers the girl you once were when you lived with them, when you loved them dearly and when they loved you the same.

Hoseok stares right at you, unblinking, and perhaps that’s what makes you take a step back, hating his strong pursuit in not believing the words that leave your mouth, hating that he makes you falter, that he seems to hold power over you.

You look away, not wanting him to search through your eyes, and utter, “There’s no use believing in the girl you thought you knew.”

“Just like how I shouldn’t have believed in the girl who lied to me about being alright?” He asks, stopping you from turning your feet and walking away from him. You’re here for Namjoon, he knows, and sooner or later this alliance between the two gangs may fall apart but before any of that can happen, before he can never see you ever again unless by chance, Hoseok has to say something.

Anything.

Before it’s too late.

“You never told me you went on your knees,” he says, jaws clenched.

“Why would I have told you that?”

“Do you think it’s shameful being desperate for something? Wanting love and attention from your loved ones?”

“I don’t know, Hoseok,” you look up at him, shrugging, challenging him, “why don’t you ask Namjoon that?”

He bites his inner cheek, eyes drifting off to the side because he knows. If there were anyone he should have asked that question to, it would be Namjoon. 

“I could have done something,” he says, voice quieter, upset.

You laugh at those words, shaking your head. “Oh Hoseok, there was nothing you could have done at that point. Once a man like Namjoon makes up his mind, not even the strongest wind can make him bend a knee.” Ironic how you were the one begging instead. “He stopped loving me and the rest followed along because to them, to..you, I will always come second to Namjoon.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” you cut him off sharply, eyes piercing. “The number one rule in the mafia is to never betray the gang otherwise you die, and obviously Namjoon would never kill any of you but you have nothing left without the gang right? Even if you had known the truth then, even if they had told you every last detail about what happened, you would have ended up just like the rest of the boys. You would have chosen Namjoon, and I would have been left all alone without anyone to rely on.” With a bitter smile curled along your lips, your eyes drift down to the floor, a flash of memory falling through your mind. “Don’t you think I kept everything a secret from you for a reason?”

You look back up at him, a pressed smile, “To hold onto that last piece of fantasy I blinded myself into living before letting it all fall apart. You would have ended up like them, Hoseok, like the rest of the boys. Even if they still loved me then, even if it was against their will what Namjoon did and even if they resented Namjoon for some time for it, that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It hurts because you would have done the same, whether you think that’s true or not, you would have chosen Namjoon, it’s only inevitable.”

You begin to turn away from him, walking off. “You all loved him more than I, after all, and I would have been your second choice as well. Don’t lie to yourself, Jung Hoseok.”

Hoseok doesn’t have a say before you’re walking away, leaving him alone in the halls as he hears your heels clicking away.

.

.

.

It’s silent.

A deafening silence.

You can never get used to silence no matter how long you’ve spent almost your entire life drowned in it because when it’s silent, your mind likes to speak. It likes to act. It likes to play with you.

Playing and playing and playing until you get too exhausted it drains all that you are.

You hate silence.

Hate it more than anything.

More than your father perhaps.

“So,” hence you’re the one to break it with a leg crossing over the other, leaning back as you play on an easygoing expression as if Mister Butler’s death meant nothing to you and that despite how much you came to resent Namjoon, letting him know that his brother died did nothing to your conscience. 

“Shall we get straight to the point? We’re ending things, yeah?”

His thick brows knit, chin protruding in the way it always does when he’s angry or serious, his inner cheeks bitten upon.

That’s right, hate me some more.

“Do you have nothing to say?” He keeps his voice restrained, holding back his emotions, but you want to push his buttons. Want him to hate you with all that he has.

“Did you want an apology? Want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness like that night almost eleven years ago?”

“Y/N.”

“I can do it if you’d like,” you uncross your legs, standing, “I have no shame after all.”

“Y/N.”

On your knees, “I apologize for—”

“Stop!” He shouts at you, eyes reddening and there are signs of fatigue, nights he spent restless, nights he spent shedding tears for the news that you gave him, the bags he doesn’t care to hide, hair imperfect, disheveled, different from his perfect image, the stare in his eyes holding so many emotions it’s a surprise he’s deciding not to hide them before you.

Namjoon is a man who holds his walls up high.

Not as high as you but high enough.

He isn’t one to let people read him that easily yet here he is, emotions on full display.

Awkwardly, you stand back up to sit back down on the seat provided for you, feigning an exasperated sigh as if all of this was just a hindrance to your schedule and you’d rather run off killing the people on your hit list.

Namjoon presses his fingers to his temples, trying to keep himself controlled and calm and you frown at the fact that he isn’t lashing out more at you.

You want him to hate you even more than he feels now.

“Why?” He asks, voice strained and quieter.

You shrug. “Was I supposed to know it was your brother I killed then? We didn’t even know each—”

“You found out your old butler was my brother when you approached me again after ten years. You knew he was dead then and you used that to your advantage, hitting me at my weakest. Why?”

“Why?” You feign a chuckle as if the answer was that obvious. “To use you, of course. I needed your power, Namjoon. As a newly developed leader in the mafia world, climbing up the ranks was easy doing it alongside you. You got me to go up against Daejung, helped with Ying and Jummy, and even came to London with me. Not to mention your position as my ally itself scored me a lot of bonuses. Why wouldn’t I have used you? You made a great pawn on my chess board.”

A pawn, right.

“That was all I ever was to you, right? So isn’t it fair I did the same to you?”

He hates that silly little smile you press his way.

“Did none of my sincerity ever mean anything to you?”

The talks of the past, a face of offense as if you’re the only one at fault here. Your little smile falls, though a rueful chuckle leaves your lips. “You talk of the past as if it was just a few years ago. It’s not been a few years, Namjoon, it’s been ten, almost eleven. And in that span of time, a lot has changed. Do you still blindly believe I’m still the person I was then in the same way Hoseok still believes in it?”

His eyes harden. “I know you aren’t the same.”

“That’s right, I’ve changed. You used me as a pawn then, right? Discarded my feelings, all my sincerity, and threw me out when I was no longer useful to you. Why should it matter what I do to you now?”

“I didn’t use anyone you loved against you.”

“You used the boys against me.” You stand from your seat, glaring his way, and he follows suit. “You admitted it, Namjoon, you fell out of love with me, but you falling out of love doesn’t mean it’d be the same for the boys but in the end, they chose you.”

“How is that my fault?”

“It is your fault. A lot of their actions were their own faults but they were entirely your fault. Having you first, loving you first, and having gotten saved by you left them with no other choice but to choose you. If I had fallen out of love with you, they would have still chosen you. Don’t you get that? I wasn’t ever going to be a choice in that relationship, I was always on the losing end, and I would have inevitably gotten tossed away to the side whether you stopped loving me or not. If you had just stopped loving me, why didn’t you just say that? Why did you have to be a coward and made me believe I wasn’t ever going to be enough for you?”

“You ended up fine anyways,” he argues, “It’s not like you had nowhere else to go. Your father accepted you back with open arms.”

Ended up fine?

Your father welcomed you back with open arms?

You laugh.

Laugh.

And Namjoon watches with slight confusion plastered on his face as fits of laughter leaves your lips so obnoxiously you almost sound crazy and out of your mind.

You are crazy and out of your mind because it sounds so funny to you, his words. Your shoulders tremble, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as your eyes crinkle into crescent moons.

“You..really…” It starts to die down, slowly. “So that’s what it was, huh? You decided to play with my feelings, feign the fact that I wasn’t enough so I’d hate you and willingly divorce you on my own so I could return to my dear loving father? That was the story?” When he doesn’t answer your question, the silence answers itself.

Namjoon fell out of love and he thought the best decision to make everyone hurt a little less was to return you to your dear father.

Your father.

Where you’d live out a fantasy and be that lovely little daughter protected by a father, loved and cherished by her people, and not get thrown into a lonely room, a cold, white room. Where you did not get neglected, wondering what her next meal would be because sometimes they come in small platters, or sometimes they don’t come at all, or sometimes you’d get too afraid of it being poisoned because your father has tried to kill you before as a child.

Once? Twice? No.

You can’t count how many times you believed over and over again as a child, thought the food was okay, only to end up in bed sick in the body for days and left on your own to take care of your own self.

Father wanted you dead and he did what he could to try and kill you. You don’t know when he stopped, or if he ever did, because by the time you learned to stop believing in the food he fed you, you started relying on your own self to grab the food you were sure hadn’t gotten touched yet by anyone.

So came the days when you stopped eating, when you wouldn’t eat at all.

Sometimes just bread crumbs you could find in the kitchen, sneaking out in the middle of the night when almost everyone was asleep, stealing bread.

So when you returned, the nightmares and fear returned. 

Because Bangtan never gave you wasted food or anything that was poisoned. You remember it well, remember keeping your eyes open and pointed, watching the way the servers would serve food in random order, watching the way everyone took a bite first before having enough courage to eat yourself.

You never showed them your fears so they never knew and they still don’t.

But you’ve always been afraid of food.

And Yuna was the first person you ever trusted to make you food when you returned to the Reaper’s manor. You only ate what she gave you.

Only ate whatever she could make with her horrible cooking skills; eggshells in her egg sandwiches, food too salty, too bitter, too dirty in color, and sometimes they weren’t even edible.

But you ate them because she was the only person you could trust. The only one.

If she poisoned you it’d be an accident but you still ate it because it was Yuna. The first Reaper, the very first one. The only one you could trust.

The only one.

“You know, I’m glad your brother’s dead.”

Words uttered that don’t have any emotions behind them at all but you utter them with disgust, with contempt, and with hatred for the one who forced you back into that hell and made you fear for every second you lived in that manor when your father was still alive.

There were days when you didn’t eat at all, days when brought into the White Room, you’d just lie there against the wall or on the floor, eyes blank and dull, no hope left in them, no words escaping, no cries for help, no more calling for Hoseok because no one would come.

No one.

Nothing kept you warm except a flimsy old blanket Yuna would put on you but even that wasn’t enough to keep your temperature up.

Or sometimes your temperature would get too high and you’d tremble in that lonely room. The echoes of Yuna’s cries ringing in your ears but you don’t remember a lot of it because every day was like that; painful until you could feel no more.

Painful until you decided to get stronger, to feel all of your father’s wrath and all of his torture.

Hurting even more.

Namjoon will never know what his actions had put you through. He’ll never know.

“Excuse me?” So he glares at you when you tell him those words about his brother, believing in your lies, believing in your anger.

You see the way his eyes shake, hands balling into fists and if you were a man, you’re sure he wouldn’t have held himself back from hauling a punch right onto your face. It’s funny to you, so funny, because you want him to hit you, you want him to hurt you.

You want to feel the pain.

“You..you’re a monster.”

“That’s right, I am.” You play along with his anger, fueling it, wanting him to hate you even more. “I’m a monster, Namjoon. I killed the father who loved me so dearly and I killed the butler who showed me nothing but kindness. Do you know how gentle he was with me? When I’d cry, he’d hold me, when I’d bite onto my lower lips to keep the tears in, he’d worry about my lips bleeding. He’d give me extra treats, stealing the sweets when no one was looking. He’d ask ‘my lady, have you eaten?’ or ‘young miss, don’t eat too fast, the food isn’t going anywhere.’ And when I’d get in trouble and hide away from the adults, he’d be the very first one who’d find me. He always found me. No matter where I’d hide, no matter where I was, he’d find me. He’d be the first one to notice if something was wrong. Always checked my temperature in the morning, always made sure I was eating well, always made sure he was around to play with me if father was too busy or if mother was too sick to pay attention. Your brother loved me. And you know what I did?”

You show him your fingers, the index and middle pressed up against one another with the thumb off to the side, and slowly point it towards your temple, playing a trigger pulled and jerk your head to the side, laughing in Namjoon’s face.

“I killed him, Namjoon. I killed him. I told the Reapers to pull the trigger and he fell dead right before my foot, shocked I betrayed him.”

Namjoon trembles, eyes drifting off to the side, shaking, unsteady, breath held up against him as if he can’t breathe.

“I killed your brother, Namjoon,” you chant like a psychopath. Chanting, chanting, chanting. “I killed Jungwon, I killed your brother.”

He’s weak in his knees, he can’t hold himself up.

His hands come up to hold his face, breathing in, breathing out, while you chant and chant, until Namjoon looks through the cracks of his fingers, piercing eyes, red, a glare mirroring that of the devil, and it’s then that you realize he must really want to kill you right now.

So you push his buttons even further.

“Kill me, Namjoon.”

His hands slowly and shakily fall from his face, wrinkles in between his brows. “What?”

You take a step forward, ignoring all warning signs from your body because Leehyun still has lasting effects on you, and take Namjoon’s wrists, forcing his hands to wrap around your neck with a strong hold. He tries to pull back but you don’t let him.

“Kill me right now,” you dare, eyes staring straight into his soul. “Do it, do us both a favor, Namjoon. If you hate me that much, you wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.”

For what he did to you, calling you names, belittling you, made you feel unwanted, forced you to rip your ring off, kicked you out, throwing you back to your father. Death feels less painful than all the things you went through when you ran back to the arms of your father. 

For throwing you back into the lion’s den when you had escaped for the first time, Namjoon killing you would have been no different.

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

“Are you crazy?! Let go of me.”

“End me!” You push against his hold, tightening both your hands around your neck. “Do it now! You hate me, don’t you? I’m giving you permission now so just do it! I’m right here in your territory so there’s no one to stop you and even after the Reapers get the news of my death, it’s not as if they can kill you. You're stronger than me, stronger than us, and you have men much stronger than we will ever be. So what’s holding you back? End all of your sufferings and you’ll never have to see my disgusting face ever again. End me..-!”

“Stop!”

In the midst of trying to pull away and rid of his grip around your neck, Namjoon accidentally pushes you too hard so you end up on the floor and his eyes widen, a gasp leaving his lips. “Y/N, I—”

“Kill me already!” You’re shouting still, wheezing from the chokehold, coughs leaving you, and while he gets distracted by those painful coughs, your eyes find the gun he placed on the coffee table just before the talk and rush to reach for it.

Only to have it snatched away by your ex-husband.

He presses something on his watch and the door opens, revealing Yoongi and Seokjin.

“Detain her,” Namjoon commands, and they look with confusion.

“What?”

“She’s not in her right mind.”

Your eyes widen, rushing to stand, only to have someone holding you down. “Namjoon, stop being a coward and do it already!” You twist your body against Yoongi and Seokjin’s holds, trying to push them off. “Kill me already!”

Other footsteps are heard, the rest of them have probably come at the sound of your voice, but you’re still jerking about with all of your might. Why does it matter they’re here now? Rushing into the room, eyes widened and filled with a type of fear that wants to understand what’s happening and why you’re acting the way that you are.

Why does it matter now? Why do they have to act like they care? They could have cared then and it would have made a difference but caring now does nothing for you.

“Y/N-”

“Get off me!”

You use your legs, kicking Seokjin away, and use your head to shoot back and hit Yoongi right on his forehead, causing both their grips to falter for a second, and in that second, you escape from them.

“Y/N-” Namjoon comes to stop you but you punch your fist right into the coffee table, causing the glass to shatter from underneath and allowing your skin to tear, blood pooling all about.

The room falls silent.

Frozen.

“Do you know how much it hurts?” You look up, meeting his eyes. You stare at the gun in his hand, the one you failed to grab, the shattered coffee table, and turn at the rest of them before letting out a chuckle as if everything about this was funny. But it’s not funny. It’s not.

“I thought I stopped feeling long ago but it still hurts,” you say at the hand that bleeds with glass shards cut deep inside your skin but they know you aren’t just talking about your hand. “It hurts so much. But you don’t care one bit, do you? Just like that night years ago when I fell on my knees and begged for the pain to stop. You didn’t care then, why would you care now?”

You look at them again, feeling that familiar ache in your chest, a familiar pain you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

“I never begged for help until that last second but you knew, didn’t you? You knew that I was afraid and that I wanted help. You knew I was hurting. But what did you do but live in ignorance bliss, pretending as if nothing had changed and that Namjoon wasn’t purposefully hurting me just to force me into making a decision that he wanted; me out of your lives. You knew everything and you did nothing. If you tell me you cared then, that you did still love me then, then I call that bullshit because how can you love someone and willingly watch them fall apart?

“Ah but I get it,” you sigh, scoffing, “you couldn’t do anything because it was against the mafia’s code, right? Because Namjoon’s your boss, because loving me still and taking my side meant betraying your boss, the boss that saved you, the boss that loved you. If you went against him, if you chose me over him, that would have meant betraying the gang and you have nothing left if you left the gang, right?”

You look at Namjoon, eyes hardening. “That’s what you did, Namjoon. You forced them into a corner, forced them to choose you. Because of your stubborn and selfish ass, you broke apart what could have worked out if you had only tried just a little bit more. Oh, but why does it matter? Why should you continue trying when I could just return to my dear precious gang and live a life of bliss, escaping your abuse and your selfish acts, returning to the people that actually loved me? Because to you, in your head, you thought that I’d be happier if I was to return rather than remain in a toxic environment right? And then everyone would be happy because no matter how much the guys resented you then, in the end they’d forgive you and you’d all return to loving once again and we’d all live happily, ever, after. Me with my gang. You with yours.”

How funny is that?

Everyone lived happily in the end, happy and joyful and back to loving once again as if those three years with you had never existed in the first place. As if you never existed in the first place.

Everyone lived happily ever after.

Everyone but you.

You turn to your bleeding fist and hold it up to take a closer look, hating how your hand trembles, how you can’t seem to hide your anger and pain and fear this time.

No one says anything, no one answers.

It’s silent. You hate silence.

Leehyun walks into your mind when you remember touching Namjoon and letting Yoongi and Seokjin touch you. They’re all here in this room, watching you, staying completely silent because they know all the words you’ve said are true and have no courage to say anything that will rebuke you.

Your left hand comes up to hold your right arm, hugging yourself against the cold chill that falls down your body.

It’s dark, why is it so dark? You don’t remember the room being this dark when you first entered and no one is moving, no one has done anything to make this room darker but it’s dark. Dark.

And cold.

Father likes it when it’s cold. Father likes it when you tremble like a leaf, telling you that you’re better off getting used to the cold but you never did and you don’t think you ever will.

You hate the cold.

Hate it.

You hate the silence, the dark, and the cold.

And when you look up, this time the faces in the room aren’t clear in your vision anymore. Everyone is a blur so you can’t make out what they look like, how they’re looking at you, if they still look concerned, if they still look the same as they had when they first walked in.

Your chest feels heavy, your throat feels as if someone is holding onto it like that moment you forced Namjoon’s hands around you.

He’s not touching you, he’s a few feet away but he’s not touching you. No one is. But you feel a presence, a heavy presence that constricts your breathing, that touches your skin, the nape of your neck.

Why did you touch him? Why did you force him to touch you?

Get away. Please get away.

You take a step back, afraid, and stumble upon something. Perhaps your own foot. But when someone holds an arm out, you immediately put on a defensive stance.

“Don’t touch me,” you demand. “Don’t come near me.”

You’re shaking.

Shaking.

The room is wide, large, so you move to a corner, away from them, and slide down the wall to rest on your bottom because your legs feel weak, because you can’t keep holding yourself up anymore.

You hear a voice in the distance, someone saying Mingyu’s name, but you don’t know what they’re saying. You feel eyes, eyes, and put your head down, afraid.

A second passes.

A heartbeat.

You count the beat of your heart which drums loud and hard against your chest to let you know that you’re still alive, that you’re still living. You count it.

One beat. Two beats. Three beats.

Mingyu says that if he’s not around, you have to get into a corner where no one can touch you, where no one is around, and listen to your heartbeat. You have to count it until he comes.

Until he comes.

Breathe in and out. Don’t forget to breathe.

Four beats. Five beats.

Six. Seven. Eight…

So Mingyu gets called after Namjoon makes a command and when he arrives, you’re sat in the corner of a room, left alone, head lowered, surrounded by seven men who watch your every move from a distance, not wanting you to ever leave their vision in case you do something irrational again.

He’s shocked at the scene, at the hands that still bleed because you refused any treatment, refused anyone to touch you, to come near you.

Mingyu takes a glance at Namjoon for some answers but he says nothing and only looks away to hide his gun behind his back so Mingyu turns back to you and walks over to you, kneeling before you.

“...Boss,” he calls, gently. He makes sure he doesn’t sound cautious, makes sure he doesn’t sound afraid, worried. “Hey, Boss. I’m here. It’s Mingyu.”

You look up slowly and he has to keep himself back from letting out a gasp at the red ring around your neck. Someone touched you but he knows Namjoon wouldn’t have deliberately hurt you on purpose. Did you do something? What happened? Why are you like this?

You say nothing but those eyes of yours are dead. Tired. And when he presses a hand against your cheek, you lean into it, closing your eyes, nuzzling against the warmth of his palm, and barely utter out;

“.....Take me home, Mingyu.”

When the room empties of your presence, the rest of them turn to Namjoon for an explanation, for anything, wondering what had happened, wondering why you demanded such actions from him, wondering why you were like that when they walked into the room.

But the leader keeps quiet for some time, for the longest time, as he looks out the window where he sees you carried in Mingyu’s arms and getting taken away into a black car. It is only when the car disappears completely from his sight does he speak.

“She didn’t do it,” he says and they keep silent, waiting for him to keep going. Namjoon turns from the window to face them and stares at the corner where you had sat. “There are a lot of things Y/N does but what she does best…” he looks at Hoseok, “is lie.”

He takes the gun from his back, examining it as the memories of you trying to grab it flashes in his mind.

“I killed him, I killed him, I killed him.” You chanted over and over again.

“Even back then she was the same. That part of her will never change.”

“You’re saying..”

“She didn’t kill Jungwon,” he concludes. “And everything we knew about her…everything we thought we knew…..all of it was a lie.”

💜💜💜

until death

— summary: until death do you part, you are theirs and they are yours

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, slight angst, demon!au

— word count: 4.4k

— warnings: none

— commission for @daisyjoons

“What’s that in your hand?”

“H-Huh?” 

“The flower,” Seokjin beckons at the rose he has in his hand, his tall figure and deadpanned eyes staring down at the man, it almost leaves him wanting to pee his pants right on the spot. “It’s not for the baker, now is it?”

Six more pairs of eyes stare directly down at him and yet he still has the audacity to say; “Yes, it’s..it’s for miss Y/N.”

“Ah.”

Suddenly the air in the little shop shifts and a sharp, cold breeze rushes through the room despite the fact that today should have been nothing but a pleasant breeze. Little ashes of smoke begin to appear from the thin air of the floors of the shop, sauntering around as customers sitting in their designated seats pick their feet up out of fear, their whispers of panic raising, and the man at the center of the demons’ wrath feels sharp ice crawling all over his body.

“It seems you want trouble,” Jungkook says as he takes a step forward, causing the man to step back, and so Jungkook keeps following along until he backs himself against the counter, trembling in sight while the rest of the people hold their breaths, too frightful to make a move in fear of being on the receiving end of the demons’ wrath.

“I-I don’t want trouble,” the poor man stutters.

Taehyung clicks his tongue in irritation while Jimin scoffs.

“Clearly you do,” Namjoon says. “You uttered her name. In the demon world, no one is allowed to utter someone’s name so carelessly. Only if they mean something to you and if the person has allowed you to utter their name.”

“I-I’m sorry sir, I-I didn’t know.”

“And giving roses,” Yoongi plucks the flower right out of his fingertips, “means an eternal love you are willing to spend the rest of your life with.” He burns the petty little thing right before the man’s eyes, all the while keeping his glare pointed right at him, causing the guy to visibly shallow a hard lump.

“Do you understand where you’re wrong?” Hoseok threatens, an arm propped up against Yoongi’s shoulder, hovering.

“I-I-” He looks like he’s about to piss his pants.

“Do you, understand?” So Hoseok reiterates, deeper, darker, graver. “Yes or no?”

“I..y-yes, yes—”

“What are you doing?”

A voice.

A sweet, sweet voice more precious and sweeter than the nectar the butterflies flock themselves onto, than any blood that can satisfy a vampire, than the sun that gives humans light and nutrients. A voice they love more than anything in this world.

Except the woman herself whom it belongs to.

They turn in an instant, ears perking up, head snapped, to find you standing before the door that leads to the backrooms, holding onto a tray of desserts they know you’ve made just for them, and their faces immediately soften.

The room brightens up, the shadows beginning to melt away into thin air in the same way they appeared, and Jimin is just about to rush up to you if it weren’t for your eyes suddenly shifting from them.

Your attention isn’t on them.

“You’re scaring the poor man!” You quickly say as you put your tray down onto the counter, rushing to untie the apron strings from behind, rushing in between them and the gentleman, an arm extending as you force Jungkook to back off. “Not just him but my customers!” You turn to address the guy. “Are you alright sir? I apologize for everything.”

He takes one glance behind you and instantly freezes up once more, quick to shake his head vehemently at the dark eyes staring straight into his soul — unbeknownst to you.

“I-I’m okay! I’m okay!” He blurts out before simply scurrying out the door before you can get another word in.

You stare at the scene, blinking at his sudden rush, before turning around to place your hands upon your hips, all the while the boys are quick to change up their expressions, acting as if they’ve been innocent all along.

“You just lost me a customer. Would you like to explain why you were interrogating the poor dude?” You start, brows furrowed, shoulders tense, chin slightly protruding and they know you’re trying to be all high and mighty but in their eyes, you just look like an upset bunny trying to fight seven wolves. “You really need to keep yourselves in check and stop summoning your shadows to show up out of nowhere, you know that scares people. How are my customers supposed to eat and drink and have a calm peaceful day if you just show up out of nowhere and deliberately make a scene?”

“M-miss Y/N, we’re fine but please—” An older woman tries to appease you, her approach timid as she holds her hands up, trying to calm you down in fear of the men in the room who’re the reason for your anger. “You don’t have to stand up for our sake.”

“We’re fine, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’d really love it if I didn’t have to witness our favorite baker in town—”

“What are you talking about, ma’am, they need a proper scolding,” you say otherwise, clearly unaware of the public’s concern for your life, being as you’re literally standing up against seven tall, masculine men who can literally bend the Earth and destroy this town with a flick of their wrist.

“Miss Y/N, please—”

“It’s alright, just go back to your coffee. I assure you I can handle this.”

“No please—”

You ignore their pleas to turn back around, that business smile fading the second you meet their eyes and they frown, hating the way you sounded kind to your customers and yet don’t bother to send them a smile.

“So then, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“It’s not even that big of a—”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms before your chest, looking up at them with a serious expression and they know they can’t not listen to whatever you say.

Only you can ever make them bend a knee.

“Sorry,” Jimin grumbles under his breath but you pretend you didn’t hear it.

“What was that?”

He sighs and steps forward, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close, much to the audience’s dismay, and pepper kisses upon your cheeks. “You heard me darling, I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry. We’re sorry,” Jungkook joins in, a hand on your head as he presses a kiss to your temple.

You feel your heart lighting up, a smile waiting to creep up but you know not to give in just yet. “And to my customers?”

Namjoon crosses a hand over to his heart, giving the people a light bow. “We apologize for the inconvenience, dear customers of Y/N’s,” he says, and while they simply look back with mouths agape and widened pupils, frozen in their spots, he turns his head back your way, a cheeky little grin spread across his face as if asking for a compliment for doing the thing that you asked him to do.

You bite back a grin, seeing how obedient they are when it comes to you, but you know that if you let them see even the smallest bit of that, they'll disregard the people around them and simply coddle you to their heart’s content.

So you take Jimin’s hand and lead him into the backrooms, knowing the rest are quick to follow along, all the while leaving your customers blinking and rubbing their eyes, wondering if what they had just seen was right or if it had been simply a figment of their imaginations.

After all, everyone knows demons would never yield to a human that easily, much less care for them in the way they just treated you.

“Someone looks stressed.”

Once you’re finally left alone with your demons without any eyes kept on you, you let your guard down, smiling ruefully as you take a good look at the seven of them. Demons don’t live on sleep in the way humans need it, they get their energy elsewhere, but sometimes there are days you feel as if perhaps taking a nap will help them.

They look so tired.

“But that still doesn’t mean you can come around here and demand things out of my customers.”

Yoongi grunts, rolling his eyes at your words like a child hating to be scolded. “I get it, I get it,” he repeats exasperatedly when he walks over to place his head against your chest, letting you run your fingers through your hair to coddle him.

“But he was trying to give you roses,” Taehyung says as he clicks his tongue with irritation, that glare he has on is always enough to kill someone if he could, and for a good while you were scared of it yourself, but luckily you’ve gotten used to it. Taehyung would never hurt you after all.

And you know exactly what roses mean in the demon language. It was what they gave you when they confessed their undying love to you after all, a day you will never forget, a day they swept you off your feet and the very day you became forever theirs. You can never forget what those roses mean to them because to demons who’re almost incapable of feeling, much less love another, if a rose is given by them unto another, it is something one must never doubt.

“You do understand that roses aren’t as significant as they are to us humans, don’t you?” You remind them, a light chuckle leaving your lips when Taehyung drops his head onto your shoulder, asking for the same attention you’re giving to Yoongi. “I mean they mean a lot to me because they mean a lot to you but to humans in general, roses are just another sign of love.”

“Exactly, love. That’s a universal language and he was trying to steal you away from us.” You feel Hoseok’s arms slide around your waist from behind, lips pressing onto the nape of your neck.

“He didn’t know,” you try to excuse the action of the poor man who you didn’t even know was trying to confess to you just a few minutes prior.

But they’re having none of that.

“Who goes around professing their love to someone they don’t even know that well? Did he really believe a pretty girl like you would remain loveless by men all around her?”

You laugh awkwardly at Seokjin’s words. “What’re you trying to say by that?”

“He should know his place,” he says as he takes your chin from under his fingertips, bringing you forth to his face, “and that you, who is beloved by many, wouldn’t have already stolen the hearts of others around her. You attract after all, and just like those pretty little sweets you make every day before the town can even wake up, a simple glance at you can cause quite the addiction.”

“I..” You avert your eyes, cheeks heating because you know exactly what he’s trying to imply. “I don’t think I..”

“You don’t?” The eldest raises a brow as if daring you to further challenge his belief.

“W-well…” You stumble on your words before clearing your throat. “Sometimes too many sweets can be bad for you.”

“Well, luckily I have a sweet tooth.” A small little smirk curl along the corner of his lip, a low chuckle leaving him just as he leans in to capture your lips, leaving your heart to skip a thousand beats faster than its initial pounding.

He doesn’t kiss you for too long but even then, once he leaves you, you’re a blushing mess.

“Heart’s pounding rather fast,” Yoongi states, and you’re stumbling over your words once again.

“I..I-I wasn’t…”

“How long has it been? You’re still swooning over such a small thing?” Jungkook teases.

“It’s alright, I quite like it actually,” Seokjin says, his hand reaching up to tuck it behind your ear. “It’s quite refreshing seeing what we do still makes her react like this. You love us that much, huh darling?”

“If you’re here just to tease me, please just return to whatever it was you were doing before coming here.”

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Namjoon pulls you back in when you try to run away to hide your embarrassment. They hold you in close, grips so steady you know there’s really no chance you’ll ever be able to escape.

Not that you want to.

And seeing those looks on their faces, you know they know that fact more than anyone else.

After all, these days can sometimes be rare; the days when they show up before you unexpectedly, most times without ever telling you beforehand. These days are the days you cherish the most, when you can be in their arms just like this, without ever feeling as if they would ever let you go.

Not until it’s time for them to leave. Not until they have to leave.

And it’s in those moments when they do have to leave do you feel the most lonely. When you have to stay behind, taking a moment to gather yourself, remember their holds and kisses, before returning to your baking with a customer smile on your face so no one knows just how lonely you are when your demons leave, knowing you can do nothing but wait until their next visit.

There are times when waiting takes days, weeks, and sometimes even a whole month and you’re always left wondering just where they are and where they’ve gone and what they’re doing.

But you know you’d never tell them just how lonely you really are when they’re gone.

After all, the times they visit are for the times of loving and holding one another. It isn’t a time to dwell on things that don’t matter, it isn’t a time to cry and wish and to hope. It’s a time to cherish what’s before you before they have to leave.

Only when they’re gone can you actually dwell on your loneliness.

“If something ever goes wrong or if you simply need us, you can call us anytime.”

You stare at the little bell shaped into a red rose one lonely night while standing under the stars in the middle of your garden.

It’s the garden of red roses they created for you, a garden that can never wilt no matter the seasons, time, or period. It dies only when the owner who received these flowers dies.

It will wilt only once you’ve wilted.

“Just how long will you continue to live, little ones?” You hold a hand out to feel the soft petals of the roses upon your fingertips, smiling at how pretty they are. Not even one petal is torn or hurt. They all look alive and well, alive and flourishing.

Jungkook says they reflect their owners’ age as you know that one day in the far future, these flowers will probably begin to look dainty and frail as well, and yet you don’t wish to ever see these flowers growing old with you.

Growing old means nearing death.

Growing old means wilting.

And then what will happen to the ones you’ll be leaving behind? The lifespan of a human does not last forever after all, and the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that they’ve got all the time in the world, hence they don’t ever look sad or griefed whenever they come to visit days or weeks or months later.

It is because to demons, the passing of time is simply but a second walking by.

Yet to you, every ticking second means a second closer to wilting away.

You let out a sigh, turning from the flowers to take a step forward towards your house when a harsh wind passes by, causing your shawl to fly off, and in an attempt to grab for it, you’ve forgotten about the bell you had in your hand, causing the little flower shape to fall from your hand and jingle as it hits the ground.

You gasp as you freeze in place because in just mere seconds, you know you aren’t alone anymore.

Seven presence right behind you.

Who would have thought it’d work this fast?

You quickly pick your bell up, eyes scanning forward at the shawl that flew off onto a rose bush, and rush forward to take it back because of how cold the night air has gotten.

“Well someone most certainly called us here on purpose, didn’t she?”

You turn back at Yoongi’s sarcastic comment once you’ve gotten your shawl to wrap it back onto yourself.

“Sorry! It was the wind,” you quickly say as you rush back to their side. “The bell was in my hand and when my shawl flew away, I forgot about it so when I went to reach for my shawl, the bell fell out and now here you are, summoned by the jingle.”

“So you’re not in immortal danger?”

At Seokjin’s question, you take a look around, wanting to laugh a bit at the situation. “Uh nope! Looks like I’m perfectly fine.”

“So you’ll only call us if you’re in immortal danger? How disappointing.” Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his lips pouting.

“What? You want me to call you if I miss you or something?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You place the bell securely into your pocket then tighten the shawl around your body. “Anyways, it’s pretty cold out here. You should get back to what you were doing. As you can see, I’m not hurt nor am I in any danger. In the meantime, I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”

You begin to walk off to your door again when Namjoon stops you.

“What were you doing out here?” He asks and you stop in your tracks, shrugging.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“About immortality and stuff.”

“Immortality?” Jimin steps up to drape an arm around your shoulder in order to turn you back around to where they’re standing, at the same time helping you to keep warm against the night breeze. “What’s got you thinking about immortality, darling? Are you finally thinking about how to become one?”

“You know I like my human life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Something about growing old is part of what makes human life so beautiful or whatever.”

“I don’t understand why death is beautiful to you,” Taehyung says.

“Well on the other hand, don’t you think immortality is somewhat of a curse?” You ask and they look upon themselves as if they’ve never given that idea a chance before.

“Why would it be a curse?”

“Well…” Your words trail off slowly and yet they wait for your explanation, eyes steady on you, ears open to whatever you have to say, and you play along with your fingers, nails digging into the skin a bit. “When I die…you’ll still have thousands of years left to live.” You avoid their eyes, staring down at the ground. “...Won’t you miss me?”

They grow silent.

Everything grows silent and you hear nothing but the little breeze that passes by ever so often, as well as the cicadas out in the night, singing their sweet songs, a melody mirroring the birds in the early morning.

“So you’re saying,” Hoseok begins, “that you’ll die before us.”

“It’s inevitable,” you say, looking up again. “Forty years may not mean a lot to you but forty years into the future means me getting old and gray and my health deteriorating. Humans are living and dying at the same time. I get closer to death with each passing day.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You know it’s true.” You watch as Jungkook turns to look at the flowers in the garden, his hand reaching out to touch one of them. “I’d never want to die and let you live through years of heartache. I’d never want to leave you behind in this world and no matter how happy we will be, death is something that is inevitable to come for me, you know that. Though I wouldn’t ever want you to follow along either. I don’t want to die together.”

“So you love your human life but you don’t want to die and leave us behind, but you also don’t want us to choose our own death in following you right behind, and you don’t wish to become an immortal.” Namjoon takes a step forward into your proximity, their expressions more grave than any other times you’ve ever seen them — except in those moments when you’re in immortal danger right before them. It frightens you a bit wondering what’s going on inside their heads, but what frightens you most is the inevitable future threatening to tear you apart.

“What is it that you want, Y/N?” Namjoon asks and you take a moment to think.

What is it that you want?

Why’re you thinking about immortality and death? Why was the wind listening to you when you were left to yourself in this garden? Why did it hear your silent plea in wishing to see them and therefore taking your fate into their hands and causing you to accidentally call for your demons?

Why does any of this even matter?

“I don’t know…” You look down at your feet, fingers unable to keep still, the vision before you blurring. “I-I don’t know,” you admit truthfully and when you look up again, their eyes widen at the sight of tears brimming along your waterline, waiting to fall down any second now. “I don’t want to live forever but I don’t…I don’t want to ever leave you behind and…and…I don’t know what I want. All I know is that…is that even though I enjoy this human life, I hate how different we are. I hate how different we think because to you, a day passing by means nothing. A week, a month, maybe even a year. A year without me is nothing to you. You can let time go by and it wouldn’t mean a thing because you get to live forever but to me…to me….I..”

You swallow the lump that wishes to cut your voice off, forcing the words out. “I hate waiting. I hate not knowing when it is you’ll be visiting again. I hate each day that passes, I hate it when you leave me, I hate being lonely and empty, I hate it when I have to wait. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry, ignoring the tears that slip by when they close in on you. A few hiccups threaten to leave your voice behind but you continue talking through it all. “It’s just…I-I didn’t bring it up because I know you get busy and even if you aren’t so busy, I…I thought that, well, if the passing of time doesn’t affect you, why should it affect me?”

“You should have spoken up, my love.”

“You know if you asked for the world, we’d give it to you in a heartbeat, right? Why would you think we wouldn’t stop anything and everything if you just asked to be with us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry again, letting the last syllable drag out as more tears fall from your eyes and they’re quick to panic, realizing their reassuring words probably sounded more like them scolding you.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

“We know. We know now so it’ll be alright.”

“I’ll tell you what, become one of us.”

Your cry falls silent as only sniffles and small hiccups leave your lips when you hear those words. You blink up at Taehyung, slightly confused. “..What?”

“You heard him, become one of us.”

“I told you I don’t want to live forever.”

“You don’t have to live forever, darling.”

“I..I don’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We can live together for as long as we want and when you get tired of life, when you get tired of immortality, just say the word and we’ll make it happen in a heartbeat.”

“...Really?”

“Of course.” Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead just as you feel Taehyung’s hands wiping your tears away and Seokjin handing you a tissue he created from thin air. “Hoseok said, didn’t he? You could ask us for the world and we’d give it to you without question.”

“We’d burn the world if it means making you happy.”

“But what if I just want you and not the whole world?”

Soft smiles appear upon their faces, softening their features, whispering sincere affirmations of love.

“Oh darling, you already have us.”

“And you’ll have us even after death takes us all away.”

“But…I thought…” with the last remaining tears wiped away, you take a small little glance towards the rose bushes, eyes scattering off with confusion, “doesn’t immortality mean…forever? How would I..-How would we just…leave this world?”

“There is always an answer to everything,” you feel warmth seeping through the palm of Yoongi’s hand when he caresses your face, “and just like the stars that burn bright in the night, lasting for eons on end, they too have their beginning and ending and one day they will burn away as well.”

“Then, technically..you aren’t cursed with immortality?”

“Well technically, yes, but in theory, going against the ways of life means going against the laws of the world, which also means throwing things off balance, so it also means receiving death sentences for throwing off said balance.”

You take a moment to blink, trying to comprehend what Jungkook just said, before simply letting out an “Oh.”

They chuckle at your silence and you feel Jimin ruffle your hair. “Though of course we’d never let anyone touch you, not even the world. There are other ways to leave an immortal life but it’ll happen when we get there so don’t worry your little head off about how everything works.”

“You just have to trust us,” Seokjin agrees.

“You’ll trust us, won’t you?” Hoseok asks.

You take his hands in yours, eyes determined without a glint of hesitation. “I trust you with my life and until death do us part, it is yours to keep.”

Taehyung chuckles at the sentiment before repeating the vow you’ve just spoken. “Until death do us part.”

💜💜💜

yellow lights

— summary: who would have thought your coworkers would mean more to you than you initially thought a year later?

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, poly!au, office!au, established relationship

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: none

— commission for @vickyyy97

“Someone looks happy today. Who’s got you smiling like that, darling?” You look over at Seokjin who greets you the second you walk into the office today, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Was it a man?” He asks and you feel heat slowly rising upon your cheeks.

He takes note of that.

“Well actually, u-um,” you scratch the back of your head, trying to play it cool but knowing nothing can ever get past the Kim Seokjin.

“No way! You’re serious?” Someone else comes up from the other side of the room and you turn to find Jimin and Taehyung walking over, the older of the 95 liner holding a hand over his gaped mouth as if this was the most shocking news he’s ever heard in his life.

“I never knew you had a man in your life already, Y/N,” Taehyung says with an arm coming over to pull you into a headlock as he ruffles your hair.

“Tae!” You whine, pouting slightly at his antics. “I don’t have a man but there was this cute barista I saw just a few blocks away.”

“Damn! She’s now taken!” He smacks his hands over his heart in a dramatic gesture you have to push him off you a bit so the coffee in your hand doesn’t spill over.

“I’m not,” you reiterate.

“But there’s a chance, yeah?” Seokjin says as he takes your coffee cup without permission to show off the number written there. “He gave you his number.”

“That’s…” You avert your eyes, biting your lower lip.

“Ooh, look at that,” Jimin takes the cup in his hand, examining it with a playful snicker, “he drew a little heart.”

“Stop it guys, you’re embarrassing.” You try to take your coffee back, only they don’t give you a chance.

“Hey if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back into my arms to cry, yeah? I’ll always be right here to cheer you up.” Despite how playful he sounds right now, you know there’s always a high chance Taehyung means it more than anything. It doesn’t take over the fact that his constant flirting doesn’t always get you worked up, however.

“I-I don’t think I’ll be needing it but uh, thanks for the offer.”

“Well, whatever happens,” you see Seokjin take the coffee back from Jimin who’s still laughing over the little note the barista gave you, in order to hand it back to you, “as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” 

You feel a light pat on your head, a gentle gesture he tends to do when he wishes to cheer you up. 

Ah. How sweet.

You feel your heart skip a beat.

“...Thanks Jin.”

.

.

.

“I never took you as a coffee person.” Yoongi, on the more quiet side, as compared to the rest of the boys, gives you a small raise in his brow when he takes note of the coffee you have on your desk for the third day in a row. “I thought you preferred tea or...other things.”

You did once speak on drink preferences though you never thought Yoongi would ever take note of them seriously because they were always just small talks that led to no direction. Yet here he is, raising a brow at the coffee you have.

“Is it the barista?” He asks and you know by now the boys probably all know your encounter with the cute barista a few blocks down the street. When you feel your cheeks heating up, you hear Yoongi let out a small chuckle. “I get it, Y/N. Feelings always start off with the infatuation you have for someone, but you have to keep in mind not to force anything you dislike for someone else. What’re you going to do when you’re unhappy just to keep someone else happy? That isn’t exactly healthy, now is it?”

“You sound like my mom always giving me life lessons,” Hoseok comes in with rolled eyes over his hyung’s words. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Even if you are, it’s not like they can’t talk things over once they get closer. Isn’t that right?” Hoseok turns to you, putting you on the spot and making you freeze up.

“W-well, yes. I suppose so.”

“Well.” Yoongi lets out a sigh. “If you aren’t going to drink the coffee, just order a black coffee and I’ll drink it for you the next time you return.”

And so it becomes a routine where you’re rushing in the morning, ordering the black coffee just to have a small conversation with the cute barista before it’s time for work and once you’re in, Yoongi takes the coffee for you, drinking it.

For a good time it goes on like this; the constant teasing from the boys, Namjoon scolding them, and Yoongi sitting back to enjoy the show with his free coffee every morning.

Though at times you feel Taehyung’s flirty comments are much more common than usual, Seokjin’s a little gentler, Jimin’s a little touchier, Jungkook’s a bit more pouty and cranky, Hoseok’s by your side more often, Yoongi more willing to engage in conversations rather than his usual responses of “mhm” and “yes” or “no,” and Namjoon being more observant.

Perhaps it’s the change in the seasons, perhaps it’s the new project the team’s working on, or perhaps they’re just looking out for you because you’re still a bit new to everything and they don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.

They’re kind after all. Ever since the first day you joined the company since your move here, the boys have been nothing but kind and welcoming towards you, helping you out in areas you need to improve on, exchanging numbers, offering to hang out outside work hours, and just anything and everything for you in order to help you feel more comfortable.

It’s sweet having people looking out for you.

“Date?” One late night with just you and Jungkook left behind, you decide to relay the news to him as the two of you finally finish off for the night. “Well finally, seems like that bastard wasn’t ever going to pick up the guts to ask you out.” He sounds a bit irritated, as he usually would when the topic of the barista is brought up. “So then, where you going?”

“He said he’ll be taking me out to dinner.”

“Dinner, huh? So you’ll be dressing up all nice and pretty for him, huh?”

“Well-” You cut yourself off, looking off to the side with a hand hovered over your cheeks. “It’s..the normal thing to do, right? When..one goes on a date?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, sounding bored with his hands in his pockets.

“I haven’t done this in a while, I’m kind of nervous. Though to be honest, I don’t really enjoy one-on-one meal dates too much, especially with someone I don’t really know that well. I mean even though I find him cute and nice it’s just…hm, I don’t know. It’s just nerve-wracking I guess.”

“Really? Dinner dates aren’t your thing?” Jungkook looks over at you, a bit surprised.

“I just get too much social anxiety,” you chuckle nervously his way. “I mean, there’s always a chance my date might ditch me and I’ll end up sitting there being awkwardly stared at by other customers and the waiter will also be placed in an awkward position. Not to mention the food choices are way too many to choose from and you can never really guess what will be good and what will not. Plus I’m just an awkward person in general when it comes to one-on-one interaction over a formal occasion. What if he finds me boring?”

“He’d be a fool if he did,” he mutters under his breath.

“Huh?”

Jungkook clears his throat, speaking louder this time. “I said that’s stupid to be worrying over.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Is it?”

“I’m not saying it’s–” He pauses, takes a breath in and out before speaking again. “What I meant was, you shouldn’t worry about that because you’re not boring. Well, not to me.”

“Ha ha, that totally helped release all of my anxieties at once.”

“I’m just saying,” he purses his lips into a small pout, “I mean I get awkward with people all the time because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to keep a conversation going but I’ve never been uncomfortable with you. You’ve never made me feel bored and I’ve never had a thought of wanting to get out of a conversation with you so it’d be dumb if that bastard did. I’m the most awkward person on Earth. I’m sure you’ll do fine with him.”

You giggle at the way Jungkook seems to shy away after giving you a few compliments, his ears a little red, head turned off to the side but you catch sight of the slight blush on his cheeks under the night sky.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

“Come on,” he rushes forward, opening the passenger side of the door for you in order to snap out of his embarrassment. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

.

.

.

“Uh, what? You want me to spy on Y/N?” Namjoon looks the maknaes dead in the eyes before turning his back to them, returning to the coffee maker in the break room. “No. I’m on a break, stop bothering me.”

“Oh come on hyung!” Taehyung whines as he tugs on the hem of Namjoon’s blazer.

“If you’re that desperate to see how her date goes, why don’t you go yourself?” He pauses. “Actually, that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah exactly! Taehyung and I both know we’d do a horrible job and get noticed right away, which will put Y/N in an awkward situation, and Jungkook here has anger issues so if that barista does something wrong, he’s also bound to get noticed.”

“Listen, I know I have my problems but hearing it out loud still hurts, you know.”

“The truth hurts, maknae.” Jimin pats his head, causing him to frown even deeper. “And Yoongi hyung,” he turns back to Namjoon again, “he’s also bound to punch the dude if something goes wrong. Jin and Hoseok hyung are great candidates but they’re working that day. You’re the only one available, hyung.”

“I’m also working that day.”

“You get out early.”

“How is it that you know my schedule so well, Park Jimin?” Coffee done and set in a cup, Namjoon turns back to the three of them, letting out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let it go? Y/N can’t keep staying under our wings forever. She’s a grown woman capable of taking care of herself.”

“Yes, yes, but what if something goes wrong?” Jungkook says, the three of them still holding their stance.

“Seems like you want it to go wrong.” Namjoon takes a sip of his drink, staring them down.

“Whaaat? Now why would I want that? Y/N’s happiness matters most of all and if that happiness is with the barista, why would I wanna intervene?”

“You’re gritting your teeth.”

He avoids eye contact, not even wanting to deny Namjoon’s accusation as he places his hands in his pockets.

In the end, the maknaes’ persuasion skills are much more in effect as they manage to rope Namjoon into their shenanigans, so when the day comes, the man finds himself being there to be the witness to how your date with the barista goes.

And unfortunately on your end, it doesn’t go too well.

“You…have a girlfriend?” You look at the phone he has in his hand when he turns around, surprised you caught him in the act when he excused himself to pick up a call, only to leave you in that restaurant for some time so you decided to step out to check up on him and now here you are, staring at a man who holds onto a dumb expression because he got caught.

“Who’s that?” You hear a voice from the other line of his phone and Woosung turns around for a second again, putting the phone back to his ear as he whispers “I’ll call you back” before turning back shamelessly around with an awkward smile.

You bite your lower lip, feeling like a fool as your shoulders keep their tense state and you take a step back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Things were rocky,” he says, “we still are–”

“That doesn’t make it right to go around and sweeten up to other girls,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear the excuses. “If you wanted another relationship, you should have broken up with your girlfriend first but instead here you are, making a fool out of me, using me as a side piece. If things went back to normal with your girlfriend, you were just going to toss me off to the side, weren’t you? Or use me as a secret affair?”

“Y/N-”

“Don’t say my name, please.” You take a few more steps back, feeling lightheaded and done. “Don’t contact me again. Delete my number, please.”

You turn to walk off, only to have your wrist pulled back.

“Hear me out-”

“I don’t want to hear anything!” You try to pull your arm back to get away from him but his grip is too tight for you to actually do much. “Let me go. You have a girlfriend.”

“I’ll break up with her,” Woosung tries to concede but you can only scoff in his face.

“Are you serious? If you can go around her back and try to get with other girls, you can do that to me too.”

“Y/N-”

“Let go,” you beg, feeling your voice crack as the tears finally begin to form upon the forceful way he holds onto you, not wanting to release his grip no matter how much you try to escape. “Please, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, I-”

Just as you feel a drop of tear about to fall from your eye, a foreign hand is placed right upon your eyes to block your vision, the sling of arm he has on you pulling you back against his chest and a voice rumbles from the depths of his throat.

“Do not ever waste your tears on spoiled milk, sweetheart, do not let him think he has power over you,” the voice says, a voice you recognize, a voice that begins to fight off the fear you had thinking you were alone and no one would help you out of this situation. Suddenly the hand isn’t so foreign anymore and you find yourself relaxing a bit into that chest of his.

“Mind letting go of that precious hand, buddy?” Namjoon says, his voice dropping an octave when he addresses your admirer. “We don’t want to make a scene here now do we? Unless you do, and in that case, I can definitely give you a show.”

When he doesn’t say a word in response, too frightened at how grave Namjoon sounds, your rescuer lets out a scoff before giving you a squeeze on the shoulder to let you know that you were to be leaving.

He turns you around, taking his hand off your eyes, but not from your shoulder, and guiding you away from the scene, knowing not to leave you alone until the two of you were finally away from the sight of Woosung.

“You alright?” Only then does Namjoon let you go and take a step back, watching to make sure you don’t look too uncomfortable.

Yet his hands being placed on you wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that you just found out the guy you thought was interested in you had a girlfriend all along, and in the shameful feeling you’re suddenly forced to face tonight, your head lowers to the ground, unable to look Namjoon in the eyes.

“Sorry you had to…see that.”

“Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to apologize for.” He hands you a tissue to which you take, wiping your tears despite it still coming down, and when it seems as if they won’t stop any time soon, Namjoon takes the initiative to take a step forward and pull you into his arms, embracing you in the way you need it.

You bury your face into his chest as he holds you, the night breeze flying past with nothing but the sound of a few cars passing by and your little sniffles, and in this very moment, all you can think is that Namjoon’s arms feel so warm, so comfortable, and so kind.

Just what you need.

Just what you needed.

“Sorry,” you croak out again, voice sounding a little more broken but Namjoon shakes his head as he holds you tighter.

“It’s alright.”

“I probably look like a fool,” you say and yet he shakes his head.

“None of this was your fault.”

“I should have known,” you pull back just slightly to wipe at your eyes, “all men, whether in Korea or elsewhere, has the audacity to be such assholes.”

“Hmm, you’re right. In one way or another, everyone’s the same.”

You look up at him, sight a little blurry. “Why’re you not defending men or saying ‘not all men’?”

“Because that’d piss you off,” you scoff, “and I know how we can be.”

“But you…” You bite onto your lower lip, staring down at his white dress shirt as tear stains and some bits of your makeup managed to fall upon them — a sight he doesn’t care to pay attention to. You now feel embarrassed for a different reason. “I probably look like a mess right now, I’m so sorry,” you cry, hating the sight of your mascara wet on your fingers.

“You’re cute,” Namjoon chuckles and you give him a little punch on the chest, wanting to hide your embarrassment and only causing him to laugh a little more.

“How’d you know to even find me? How’d you even get there in the first place? It was like you were already there.”

“Well…” When he hesitates, you look back up at him, blinking.

“Don’t tell me Jungkook set you up to this?”

“Not just him.”

The maknaes. “Of course it’s them.” You let out a sigh. “I’m kind of surprised with how protective they seem to be, they didn’t come here themselves and sent you instead.”

“They sent me because they knew if something went wrong, they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves before that barista has a couple of bruises on his face.”

You laugh a little at that sentiment. “Well aren’t they aware.”

“If I tell them you cried, I wonder what they’d do.”

“Don’t!” You quickly say, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to make sure he knows just how serious you are. “I already told them where Woosung works at so if they know what he did, who knows what they’d do.”

“Are you that worried?”

“They have absolutely no care for what other people think of them so of course I’m worried.” You quickly wipe the remaining tears left on your face. “I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt.”

“I suppose I can leave out a few details.”

“Thanks, Namjoon.” You look around the empty streets of the night, feeling a bit awkward now that things are starting to calm down. “And..thanks…for being there…..and here, right now.”

Namjoon lets out a light chuckle. “Mr. Bang told us to look out for our newbie, didn’t he?” He says, a light reminder of your company CEO’s words to them when you first joined. “Though even without him saying so, we’d still be taking care of you.”

You smile up his way, knowing that if he hadn’t been here tonight, a different outcome would have occurred and you aren’t sure how you would have been able to deal with things were it not for him.

.

.

.

“Sorry you won’t be getting your usual free coffee anymore.” When you take a seat beside Yoongi the next day, something tells you he probably knows the actual full story about what happened the night before unlike the three younger ones. Namjoon probably felt it safe to tell the older ones and that you wouldn’t blame him for it.

He’s right.

Before the man can reply, Jimin’s sliding his chair on over with a comment of his own. “Who cares? Hyung can get his own coffee and there’s always plenty of fishes in the sea.”

“He’s right, I’m a fish,” Taehyung says with a smirk sent your way. “I’m a great fish.”

You laugh a little at that. “It’s alright guys. He was cute but I forgot that pretty faces don't always mean pretty hearts.”

“I’m literally right in front of you but go off.” Taehyung sits himself on Jimin’s lap with a roll of his eyes, causing you to giggle.

“I knew he was a red flag,” Jungkook joins in with his arms leaning over your desk. “Everything about the dude screamed red flag.”

“You never even met him.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell,” he argues. “If you ask me, even Taehyung’s a better candidate.”

“See, what’d I tell you?” The older one is quick to agree as his eyes light up. “Why don’t you give me a chance, sweetheart? I’d never break your heart.”

“That’s a lie,” you laugh.

He pouts. “Why would you say that? You don’t trust me?”

“I’m just saying it’s inevitable to break someone’s heart whether you mean to or not. That’s just what happens when you’re in a relationship right? Not everything is smooth sailing.”

“Well, you can break my heart anytime.”

“Alright, alright, stop bothering me and get back to your stations already.” When Yoongi finally speaks up among the conversation you seemed to attract without meaning to, the three boys are quick to obey their hyung’s words, sitting up and scattering to their destination after a quick wave of goodbye your way.

You yourself were just about to return to your own station when Yoongi stops you mid-way.

“By the way,” he starts, allowing you to look back at him, “Stop apologizing, you’ll wear yourself out.”

It’s blunt the way he says it but you know that Yoongi always means well so it makes your insides warm hearing him giving you kind words in return to what you initially came to him for.

.

.

.

“So, what do you think about this?”

Hoseok takes a glance at your computer screen before looking back at you, whose eyes seem to look slightly dreary despite the excitement settled in them. 

“I think you need to take a break,” he says and you’re quick to frown.

“Come on, Hoseok, just look it over for a second, yeah? I promise I’ll stop bothering after.”

“You said that last time.”

“I really promise this time!” 

“No, you’re lying,” he says with a poke at your forehead, forcing your head to get pushed back away from him. “You’ve been working too hard these days you might actually collapse soon and what kind of sunbae would I be if I didn’t look out for my hoobae’s health?”

“But I’m fine-”

He knows all too well the sudden shift in focus you’ve had on work ever since the failed date with the barista down the street, a sort of focus that forces you to work much too hard and way too much than needed.

“Come on, it’s almost midnight.”

“And?”

You’ve even forgotten what tomorrow implies. 

He takes ahold of your chair, rolling it away from your computer so he can make sure everything’s saved before shutting it off, causing you to groan in response, yet when he goes on to get your jacket, you’re reluctantly obedient. 

“Have you forgotten what today is?” He asks and you look at your phone.

“The twenty-second of January. Why?”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“The twenty-third.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” Wide eyes, innocent and curious, totally oblivious as you allow him to help you put your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. 

Hoseok looks out the window and you follow his eyes, wondering why the night sky has caught his attention, but when there’s nothing there and he says nothing in reply to your question, you go on to gather your things just as he checks his watch.

“Are you free right now?” He asks, not looking up from his watch.

“I have a few minutes to spare.”

“Just a few?”

You chuckle. “I’m free, Hoseok.”

“Great.” He takes a step from where you are gathering your things, sliding up from behind and leans right into your ear. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

It’s so soft and quiet against your ear but you know you haven’t misheard a thing just as the phone on the desk lights up and you see that it’s 12:00 am, the twenty-third of January; your 26th birthday.

“Come on then,” he takes your bag before you can protest, walking off to have you chasing him right behind, “we’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” You blink, hurrying to keep up. “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

Yet you receive no answer as he takes you in his car and drives off with a grin on his face, leaving you wondering with anticipation for what’s to happen.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you arrive at some sort of park you don’t think you’ve ever visited before.

“Why are we here?” You ask and yet all you receive is Hoseok’s hand asking you to just trust him and follow along. You take his hand and he leads you toward the inner part of the park until you’re standing right before a fountain. “How pretty,” you say, wondering why you never took the chance to ever come to such a place before. “Hoseok, you–”

When you turn around to address the man who brought you here in the first place, there’s no one in sight.

“Hoseok?” You call for him, confused as you begin to look around.

Just then, lights begin to appear.

Pretty little fairy lights decorated along the lampposts and hedges of the part. Bright white and golden all around, leaving you to only stare in awe at the sudden burst of lights gleaming all around while you stand in the center of it all, heart picking up its pace at just how pretty everything looks.

All for you.

No one’s ever done something as grand as this for you, not even your closest friend,s and yet here you are, cherished by people whom you’ve known for only a year or so.

“Do you like it?”

You turn at the familiar voice to see Hoseok with a grin, and just behind him stands the rest of the guys who share the same sentiment.

“Like it?” Words can’t even begin to describe. “I..”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you crying?!” Seokjin’s the first to rush up to you when he sees your hands raising up to your face, taking them in his and blowing his warm breath onto them to warm it up as Yoongi presses both his gloved hands upon your cheeks. “Don’t cry now, this was supposed to make you happy.”

“I am happy,” you say as a few tears slip. “I’m really happy.”

“Are you sure because crying usually means—”

“I promise,” you cut Yoongi off when you see the serious frown he has on his face, a sign of worry as he frets over your tears. “I promise I’m happy.”

“You have such an odd way of proving you’re happy,” he grumbles under his breath, causing you to let out a laugh.

“We have cake but I don’t think you’d be able to blow out the candles in this windy environment.”

January is still Winter after all.

“That’s alright,” you say to Jimin, “we can just pretend the fire’s on.”

And so he goes on to get the cake with Taehyung in toll, and in the middle of the pretty park they’ve taken the time to show you, a soft birthday song rings in the air, and when that’s over, you intertwine your fingers together for a wish before blowing out the imaginary fire on the candles.

January is a bit cold, a little worse when the moon has risen high in the sky, but tonight you feel anything but the coldness, not when these seven boys have taken the time to dedicate themselves to making sure you’re having a good time.

.

.

.

“You know if you keep staring at me, you might burn a hole in my face.”

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Hoseok starts, his chin still propped upon his hand, eyes shamelessly staring without a hint of movement anytime soon. You let out a little chuckle, flustered, and hit him lightly on the chest. “What? Do I make you flustered?”

“You’re almost as bad as Taehyung sometimes.”

“What’s wrong with a little flirting?”

“I’m going to take it the wrong way one day,” you tell him as you get up from your seat to head on over to the printer where a few papers await their turn. “I know you’re all joking though but sometimes, well, admittedly,” you hide your face behind your hair, staring straight at the printing machine to finish its job, “my heart does skip a beat...or two.”

“Really?” He says it so nonchalantly you think your reaction is the least bit of his concern. “Hm, then it’s working,” until he says those words.

“Huh?” You look up, flustered, with blinking eyes. “What do you mean it’s…working?”

Hoseok sends you a smirk just as Taehyung slides up along his side, arm draping over the older man’s shoulder with a mirrored smirk.

“Oh I think you know what that means, darling,” the younger one states, his brows wiggling playfully.

You take the collection of papers that have been printed out for you and huddle them close to your chest, not fully comprehending them only because you wouldn’t want to create a misunderstanding and interpret things wrong when it’s actually meant to have a different meaning.

“I..I-I..”

Before you can finish your stuttering, however, a roll of paper comes along to smack both Hoseok and Taehyung on the head.

“Stop flirting during work hours, you know better than that,” Namjoon warns with a firm expression.

“But you know our girl will never get it if we don’t get to the point,” Hoseok argues.

“The point?” You blink.

“Then get to the point.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, looking exasperated by the antics of the group as he joins the crowd with Jungkook, just as Jimin and Seokjin walk through the doors.

It’s clear the seven of them all know exactly what’s going on while you remain standing there in confusion, left to try to interpret things under your own limited understanding unless they decide they want to come out and just say whatever it is they’re holding out on.

“See, look at her. She’s confused.” Yoongi points out, his head beckoning your way to make them look at you.

You freeze under their stares, not…uncomfortable but more so…shy.

“She’s not confused, she knows exactly what’s happening,” Seokjin speaks up, a slight grin resting on his lips as he walks a few steps forward to take your papers for you. They were meant for him in the first place. “She’s just afraid it might turn out to be false,” he says, purposely staring you down with that glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Now we don’t want any miscommunications around here, do we?” Jimin sneaks up behind you, hands pressed upon your shoulders. “So why don’t you tell our little one exactly what you mean, hyung?” He’s baiting Hoseok, that slyness in his tone not being able to escape your ears especially when he’s so close to you.

As for the older one, he simply remains calm, instead glancing at the maknae. “Didn’t you want to do the honors? You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, right?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn red, his face turning to the side in an instant once the attention is brought down to him instead, and while Jimin snickers, Taehyung holds his laugh, Seokjin hides a grin behind his hand, and Namjoon’s expression turns fond, you find the gentleman who became the first friend you made ever since moving to Korea and working alongside him as a new employee to be quite cute.

He’s always been cute from the very beginning.

You’re the closest in age after all, so with him feeling more comfortable to approach you and make you feel comfortable, you found his company to be a delight you enjoyed looking forward to each day you came to work.

And now here he is, almost a year later, flustered like a teenage boy trying to hand his crush a love letter.

And the boys are eating it up.

“Jungkook?” So you call out to him, knowing he may need a little bit of encouragement to tell you the thing he needs to say, all the while preparing your heart just in case the answer you’re seeking turns out to be wrong and you were just misinterpreting things. “It’s alright, take your time.”

“That’s right, maknae, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

You lightly hit Taehyung on the chest. “You’re not helping the boy.”

He laughs in response. “You already know what he’s trying to say so why not save him the embarrassment?”

“Do I?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Namjoon raises a brow, impressed. “Someone’s feeling cocky.”

“Huh, no I didn’t mean that!” You’re quick to say, hands rushing to wave it off as you become flustered again. “J-Jungkook I didn’t-” You turn to him, stumbling out your words. “Well, I mean, I think I..I-I don’t exactly..-But if it’s what I think it is..-But if it isn’t, uh-”

“Oh god, they’re hopeless,” Jimin laughs aloud before simply squeezing your shoulders as he leans in. “Why don’t we stop the act and just become ours, hm? I think you know we all feel the same way at this point.”

“Hyung what the hell?!” Jungkook suddenly shouts with his mouth held agape, offended his moment was stolen from him.

“You were taking too long!”

“That doesn’t mean you can take the spotlight!”

In the midst of their little dispute, all you can hear is Jimin’s short yet meaningful confession in your ears, one that seems to make your heart race more than any man has ever made it beat before and you stand there right in the center, eyes unblinking, feeling as if the world is slowing down as you hear each beat your heart drums aloud for you.

“So what do you say?!” Taehyung jumps in, leaving Hoseok’s side to drape his arm around you instead.

“You’re both so annoying!” Jungkook yells, his brows furrowed deeply as his lips jut into a pout.

With cheeks heated and heart set aflame, you take the pouty man’s hand and look him straight in the eyes, taking a moment to calm him down so that the whole room can fall silent, before you turn to look at them all, hands trembling a bit when you say;

“Mmn, I’ll…I can…..yeah.”

Their faces brighten in an instant, and in that moment you realize despite how brave and nonchalant they all may seem to appear on the outside, perhaps deep within their hearts, they were just as nervous and frightened of what your answer may be.

And for that you say the words that Jungkook had been meaning to say but was robbed of the opportunity.

“I like you. I like you so…so much.”

.

.

.

Two years later

“Mr. Bang approved the proposal and he told me he’d be able to connect me with some people and-” you let out a scream of delight as you jump around before Seokjin, taking his hands along with you for him to see just how excited you are right now. “I’m ranking up Jin! I’m ranking up! And soon the company’s going to skyrocket and my efforts will be rewarded! It is rewarded! It’s being rewarded!”

Despite the onlookers of passersby taking quick glances at the two of you as you jump for joy, Seokjin simply smiles fondly at the pretty girl before him, looking her happiest and knowing he’d never want to rain on her parade and cast that look aside.

“Look at that, my little rockstar all grown up,” he says with a smile so gentle and fond of you you think you might fall in love with him all over again.

“Are you proud?” You ask and he chuckles as if the answer was that obvious and did not warrant a question.

“So proud,” he reaffirms your thoughts with hands cupping your cheeks and bringing his nose to playfully graze it with yours before he proudly lands a short yet sweet kiss on your lips.

“Jin, don’t do that in public,” you back away just a little, now noticing the people who’re just trying to walk the street.

Yet Seokjin laughs at you. “I thought you enjoyed public displays of affection.”

“I never said that,” you say as you take his hand and begin to walk off towards the apartment building the eight of you reside in, “that’s Taehyung and Hoseok. And Yoongi doesn’t care about anything so whether it’s embarrassing or not, he’ll do it if he’s in the mood — which can get a little frustrating.”

“Does it?”

“It does. Though now that I think about it, I think all of you except Namjoon and I care about modesty when it comes to displaying affections publicly.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Jungkook too?”

“He enjoys seeing my reactions!” You say with a huff. “But then when I get him flustered, he goes on a whole rant as if he doesn’t do it frequently to me. Couldn’t you talk to him for me? He’d listen to you.”

“You think he’d listen to me?”

“You’re right, never mind, he never listens to you.”

“I listen well,” just as the elevator doors pop open, someone approaches the two of you from behind, their head propping in between your two bodies, “there’s just a time and place for everything.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes at Jungkook’s response as the three of you walk into the elevator. “It’d be good if you can listen to your elders, Jungkook.”

“Come on now, don’t start giving me life lessons again. It’s just that sometimes tuning some people out is the best thing to do.”

“Excuse me?” You hide your laugh behind a hand at Seokjin’s offended expression but he catches you quickly. “And what’re you doing teaming up with him? You were against him just a few seconds ago,” he says, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you in as you let out a yelp at his tickles.

“You can’t win against our maknae bond, hyung,” Jungkook snickers as he takes your other side, wrapping his arm around you as well.

“Stop, you’re going to suffocate me.”

Just then, the ding to the elevator is heard and you take their moment of distraction to escape their clutches, quick to rush out the doors and run for your apartment door.

When the door opens after unlocking the code, you run right in towards the first person you see, shoes and all.

“Yoongi catch!”

He looks like he’s just gotten up from a nap and yet when he sees you running towards him at full speed, he doesn’t think twice before his arms are instinctively holding you up when you jump onto him successfully.

“What’re you doing back early?” He yawns when another voice chimes in.

“Yeah, you’re not supposed to be back until an hour later,” Namjoon says.

You narrow your eyes. “Not happy at my early arrival?”

“I was trying to surprise you with a cake,” Taehyung yells from the kitchen, to which you turn to see both him and Jimin busy with frostings and cake batter.

“Tae? Baking?” You get down from Yoongi’s stronghold to walk towards them as Hoseok comes around to take your coat.

Taehyung pouts. “Are you doubting my skills? Why don’t you doubt Jimin?”

“Because we all know I’m a great baker.”

“Y/N, shoes.” Seokjin warns from where he stands, pointed eyes your way, stopping you just before you step into the kitchen.

Hoseok helps you out of them so you thank him with a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods as he walks over to the shoe rack.

“What’s the cake for?” You step into kitchen territory once approved, peeking over Jimin’s side as he focuses on decorating the cake and seeing the words ‘congratulations’ on it. “Wha..but I didn’t even tell you what the results were.”

“Do we even have to hear it?” Jimin chuckles, stopping midway to give you a kiss on the head.

“You were that confident I’d do well?” Your lower lip juts out, feeling touched by their actions.

“Oh baby, we knew,” Taehyung says, kissing you on the cheek.

“Why is it that you guys spoil me so much? You’re going to overwhelm me.”

“Because you’re our girl, why else?”

Such a calm answer, so straightforward and simple as if that was obvious from the very beginning. They’ve always been like this; considerate and sweet, and when Taehyung pokes your nose and leaves frosting there and you chase him after to exact revenge, when Namjoon scolds the two of you in a calm voice and Jimin shouts at the both of you to not make a mess, Jungkook laughing in the corner, wanting to join in but Seokjin pulling him back, all the while Hoseok and Yoongi simply stands back observing it all, the happiness that bloomed from the very moment you met the seven of them and how they’ve managed to continue allowing you to live in these sweet moments, you know that you will never care for anything else as long as they remain by your side until the very end.

Nothing else in this world matters more than their love and support.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the frightened ones

— summary: drowning in the middle of the sea means being blind and not knowing who is on your side and who wishes to pull you in deeper

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.7k

— warnings: nightmares, mentions of hallucinating, aggressive acts, kidnapping

— PART 18 / previous post / masterpost

“Are you scared?”

You look up in the complete void of the room, darkness shadowing all that you are as you sit in that lone void, knees held up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your head lowered until you hear the voice.

A familiar, gentle voice.

“....Mister Butler?” You call hesitantly, confused and almost frightened at how young he looks, as if he had never aged. He was only seventeen when he met you after all, twenty-two when he died.

Those widened pupils which have been engraved in your memories will be something you will never forget for the rest of your life. The day he died, the day your whole world fell apart, when everything went wrong from that point on.

Father blamed you for the longest time for his death, Mister Butler himself visiting you in dreams after dreams, for a moment relieving you only for him to shame you and blame you for killing him.

You remember those dreams in faint glimpses, fragments, shattered glass. And whenever Mister Butler would appear before you, the whole room would remain just as cold as your life turned when he died and your world turned upside down. 

Yet today it feels a little warmer.

Why does it feel warm?

And why is he here? He hasn’t visited your dreams in ages. You thought he’d abandoned you.

“Hello there, little miss.” He smiles sweetly in the way your memories keep on him, the real him, not your make-believe nightmares. That boyish, kind smile always makes your insides warm in the way only he’s able to do in the darkness of your life. He takes a seat before you, glowing brightly in the darkness of the abyss that keeps your heart cold and hard.

You feel his warmth the way you recall your forgotten memories and your heart aches at the sight of him, remembering, remembering.

You hate remembering. Hate being reminded of what happened that night.

Car crash, tires screeching loudly against the pavement, an explosion, a gunshot, a scream, a cry.

Mister Butler. Dead.

“I…” You stutter, the sound in your throat trying to give away, a lump restricting it from within, and you feel like you want to throw up. You want to sit up, to reach out to him, touch him, feel him, but your body won’t move.

It only lurches forward as you hold a hand over your mouth, the sickness in the pits of your stomach wishing to relieve the empty contents in there.

You want to speak but no word would come on, no sound, so you’re left with only trembling in plain sight, unable to ask for help, to ask him why he’s here, if he wants to scorn you again, if this time, he’s going to yell at you for hurting his little brother, for lying to his little brother.

You’re afraid.

Afraid.

“Little miss.” But his voice remains gentle when he calls for you and you almost cry at how soft he sounds. But even then, even with Mister Butler right here before you, nothing can help you shed tears anymore. They’ve all gone, wasted on a pitiful father who didn’t deserve any of it.

You feel a hand on your back, his warmth surging forth into your body as if he was a human furnace himself and you look up, slowly, frightened that what you’re seeing is only a figment of your imagination.

“I….I’m scared,” you finally manage to admit to his initial question, wanting to avoid his eyes but knowing because he only lives on in your memories and dreams, this is the only way you can ever see him so you keep your eyes on him, wanting to recall every detail, every little thing you can remember. You lean back into a seated position with some struggle, trying to focus.

“I know you are,” Mister Butler nods with a troubled smile. “You’ve blocked your heart from the world, haven’t you, little one?” He asks, taking a look at the darkness of this space.

“You told me not everyone deserves the heart that I’ve been given. You told me to stop letting them all stomp on me.”

“Not everyone,” he emphasizes, an eyebrow arched your way with a pointed stare. “That doesn’t mean shut yourself away from everyone.”

You bite your lower lip. “Same difference.”

“It isn’t and you know that,” he chides and you shrink into your seat, feeling a bit ashamed because he always sees through you no matter how hard you try. Will he scold you again? Speak the words he knows will hurt you the most? “But you’re scared.” Yet he doesn’t this time. This time Mister Butler is real.

Real.

Not those fake nightmares your mind decided to make up because you were made to believe his death was your fault.

This time Mister Butler is real and he understands. He always does. “And the people that you’ve trusted have all abandoned you. Your own father has made you into the killer that you are today.”

“Do you see me as a monster?” You look at him with a bit of desperation, frightened for his answer.

Mister Butler takes a moment to simply watch you, falling silent, as if letting you take this time to reflect back on what you had just said, and when you keep your resolution, he speaks again. “To me, you are nothing else but my young little miss,” he says. “Why would I ever see you as anything else?”

“Because I can’t control it,” you tell him, a bit frustrated, a bit desperate. You show him your hands. They tremble uncontrollably when you lay your palms to face you from your lap. “I want to hurt everyone that has hurt me and…and what if one day I come to hurt myself?”

“You can control it.”

“I can’t.”

“I know you can. And you will.”

“You don’t understand.”

“My young, little miss.” His voice remains calm, steady, and light, unlike you who seems to only fall out of control, desperate and in a panic, scared and frightened and mad, looking up at him and pleading at him to save you. To ground you. To control you. “How much longer will you keep hurting yourself? How much longer will you refuse to trust the people around you?”

“I can’t.” You say again, more stressed. “They’ll leave one day, just like everyone else has. They’ll leave.” Your voice shakes.

“Are you so afraid despite how many sacrifices they’ve made for you?”

“It’s because of that,” you say, hands running through your hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. You can feel it, you’re becoming unstable once again. Your heart is racing. Racing hard. “Because they’ll make the sacrifices, I can’t…I can’t-”

“Show them your heart?”

“Because they’ll leave.” You nod. “Everyone leaves. And if they leave…who will I have?”

“You’re drowning yourself, young miss.”

“What else can I do?” You want to scream and shout and let everything out but father still sits in the back of your mind, taunting you, threatening you. Shouting will do nothing. No one will come. No one will save you no matter how loud you are. So you have to remain quiet. You have to because shouting will make no difference.

You stand from your seat abruptly, hands running through your hair as you pace the room, unsettled by everything. You’re a mess right now, unable to stay calm, while Mister Butler remains seated from where he is, simply watching everything unfold before his eyes.

“I…” There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. If you run, you’ll only end up right back where you were. Running means nothing in the world of the abyss. You hold your hands together, nails clawing at your skin. “Why won’t you shout at me?” You turn back to your precious butler, frustrated that despite how familiar he feels right now, it isn’t helping you in the slightest. Perhaps the nightmare versions of him was better, perhaps hearing him shout at you and blame you for everything is better. “Why won’t…why won’t you blame me? Why’re you yourself right now?”

“Do you want me to shout at you?” He asks and you fall to your knees before him.

“Please,” you beg, palms pressing against one another but when it feels like that isn’t enough, you let them press against the cold floor, bowing forward, forehead meeting the floor. “Please blame me, please scorn me, please, just give me anything, anything. Just don’t be kind.”

But Mister Butler only watches you in silence, his gaze afflicted with pain as he stares at the little girl whom he was entrusted to ending up the way that she is right now.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “If it wasn’t for me…you…you could have lived. Why did you stay for someone like me, Mister Butler? Why? You could have gone home, could have returned to the little brother that was awaiting your return and had been waiting for your return for the longest time. But I shattered that hope for him. I broke him, Mister Butler, all because I was selfish and vengeful and only thought about my needs and my wants and didn’t care for anything else.”

“Sit up.”

“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “It was my fault. Everything’s my fault. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing’s your fault.”

“Everything’s my fault.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Young miss look at me.” You look up, just slightly, with creasing brows and quivering lips. “The decisions you make, the life you are living, the path you have chosen, I will never blame you for anything. You think I care whether you remained kind for the rest of your life? You think it matters to me whether you can still give your heart out and smile for people just as you’ve done all those years ago?”

“I’m weak.”

“And I don’t care,” he stresses with a desperate expression trying to make you believe in him. “All those people that say you’re weak because you can’t remain kind after what you’ve gone through, to the ones who tell you to keep your heart warm, that being kind is powerful, that you’re not strong because you want vengeance, well fuck them. No one in this world knows what you’ve gone through and they have no right to tell you what to do with your life. You’re here because you’re here and no matter how weak you may think you are for making the decisions that you’ve made, no matter how weak they may think you are, to me you are the strongest person I have ever seen, young miss. You’re living. And I will never blame you for living.”

“I don’t feel like I’m living.” You sit up, eyes shaking as you can still feel just how surreal everything feels; your trembling body, drying lips, heartbeat drumming hard against your chest, that screech in the back of your ears. “But I…” You look up at him again, as if praying, begging to the Gods from above, “I want to live.”

Mister Butler’s eyes soften upon those words, his shoulders dropping slightly as if a weight has fallen from them and he nods, understanding.

“I know.” 

He gets on his knees and leans in, arms wrapping around you and when you expect to be reminded of those arms that held you, comforted you night after night, days after days, you feel nothing.

You don’t feel his embrace, his familiar warmth, his strong, strong arms that always seem to protect you from all harm. You feel none of that and you look up, brows knitted, eyes burning red.

“Why….why can’t I feel you?”

There’s a hand on your shoulder but all you see is the hand, you don’t feel a thing. He takes a small glance its way before sending you a troubled smile, transient and painful. “Because I only live on,” he takes his other hand and presses a finger at your forehead, “in here.”

“You….” Your face crumbles as if the world has just fallen down and the coldness returns like a blizzard in the middle of winter, sudden and harsh. “You’re leaving too…aren’t you?” You sit up from your position, knees meeting the floor as your hands reach out, trying to touch him but only meeting the air in between where his figure should have been.

He’s a ghost.

Just a spirit.

“Please,” you beg. “Please don’t leave me either. Don’t leave me, Mister Butler. If you leave, I….I can’t live on. I can’t do this without you. Please…please don’t leave me.”

Your fist meets the floor, punching and punching out of frustration and desperation, wanting to touch him and hold him and embrace him again. Just like how it was in your memories, just like how he lived on all those years ago.

“Please….”

“You don’t remember, young miss?” He holds a hand out, holding your face and brushing away where invisible tears should have been. 

“I’m already gone,” he whispers, and you awake from your dream.

Panting out of breath.

Heartbeat racing.

Aching.

Hands trembling.

You throw the blanket off you, stumble on your weakened legs but force it up and race to throw the doors open, allowing light to shine through in the darkness of your room. And then you run some more, eyes focused on one thing and one thing only.

You look around as if in a trance, in a hurry, vision coming in and out, dimmed, legs failing you ever so often when your knees wish to buckle underneath you, stumbling, having to reach out for the wall, a nearby stand for those fancy vases meant to keep the flowers alive. You accidentally knock one off when your legs try to give up but you don’t care.

There is one man you’re looking for. One lone man.

“Boss-?”

“Give him back to me.” And when you find him, you’re quick to lung at him. The bandages around your right hand wraps all around from the night at Bangtan’s manor but you ignore the pain as you clutch onto Mingyu’s shirt, eyes frantic and heart racing. “Give him back to me. Give him back! Give him back right now! I didn't kill him. It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it. So please, please give him back. I didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was good, I listened to you and I obeyed your every word but why did you take away the only person that ever loved me? Why, why?! He didn’t do anything wrong.”

The rest of the Reapers that heard your call watch on as you cling onto Mingyu, shouting at him in a crazed manner as if hallucinating and in a dream-like trance.

“Why didn’t you kill me instead? Why did you blame me? Why did you say that I was the one who killed him? I didn’t pull the trigger, I didn’t cause a little boy to lose his precious older brother and I certainly didn’t kill the very person I loved like he was my own brother. Why? Why did you take him away from me? Give him back! Give him back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!!”

You snatch your hands from his blazer to wrap them around his neck, throwing him down onto the floor with legs on either side of him.

Mingyu simply lays there as your hands tighten, eyes staring down at him with nothing but pure rage and fear combined into one, the kind of sight that’s rarely seen so clearly upon your face because you’re always so good at hiding your emotions from everyone. But in this hallucinating state, in your unconscious awareness, you glare down at him with disdain, with the purest form of hate, hands trembling despite having full control and power over him as you tighten your hands, wanting nothing but his death to arrive.

Mingyu’s sight blurs, his breathing constricting, but he does nothing despite it all and it’s the rest of the Reapers that have to shout at you and rip you off him.

“Boss!”

“Boss, wake up!”

“That’s Mingyu you’re hurting!”

“Die! Just die already! Why aren’t you dead? I shot you straight in the head and watched until you no longer breathed so why? Why are you still here?” Yet you’re still trashing about, having to be forcefully removed and dragged onto the floor by three of the Reapers, two grabbing each of your arms, the last behind you and pulling you back by the torso.

Yet despite being a few feet away and the others have turned to Mingyu, helping him back up while he coughs from the chokehold you had him in, you’re still not seeing straight.

“I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him so please…please stop blaming me. It wasn’t me. I promise it wasn’t me.” You look up with desperation this time. More hurt, more pain than anger and rage fueling your thoughts. Your hands come to your head after pushing the Reapers away, tugging at the scalp of your hair, pulling on them like some crazed maniac trying to keep everything in their control and not being able to.

“It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it.” You tremble, knees coming up to your chest, rocking your body back and forth. “It was you, you had the gun, you…..” Your brows knit, trying to think but thinking doesn’t help and you’re only left with more questions. “The gunshot…was you. Mister Butler didn’t….he…”

White eyes, dark pupils, staring straight ahead as if possessed by some sort of spirit.

But he wasn’t possessed. He wasn’t cursed. 

He was dead.

Father killed him and father hovered over you, telling you that it was because of you that he killed him. It was because of you. Because Mister Butler was kind to you. Because Mister Butler loved you. He died because he loved you.

You look up again, fearful as you stare up at Mingyu, hair all a mess and there’s something in your eyes that he notices, something different.

You narrow your gaze, slightly, as if thinking, as if lost in thoughts, and when you turn to the other eyes leveled your way, you scurry a few inches back, hands still on your head as if frightened all of a sudden, as if somehow realizing Mingyu isn’t your father and this manor isn’t full of his people.

These are your Reapers. It’s Mingyu.

“......If you love me……you’ll end up just like him. Just like them.” 

Bangtan.

Whether those vows of love were true or not, they all left in the end.

“You’ll all leave…in the end. You’ll leave….eventually.” You try to search through your memories for something. Anything. “So don’t make any promises. Don’t….don’t love me. You cannot. If you do…you’ll leave. So don’t do anything of those sorts. Don’t…don’t cling to me. Your vows of loyalty, your promises, they’re nothing but lies…nothing but, illusions. Fantasies. Everything that we’re doing now..this? This is nothing but a shitshow. We’re in a circus. You’re the clowns and I’m the ringmaster and in the end…..in the end……the clowns will find a new circus and the ringmaster will be left all alone. Either that or the ringmaster will be the one to abandon the clowns first. So don’t cling to me. Don’t love me. If you do, I’ll kill you myself.”

You turn from them, eyes falling drowsy, headache pushing you to just simply turn for the floor and lay your head there, not wanting to move another inch.

Yeonjun, who’s the closest to your side, crouches down and lends you his lap, and in your unconscious state, you don’t fight him off and just simply give into falling back asleep once again like a lost little puppy crawling towards the hand that feeds him, while the room remains silent for the longest time, just watching you from where they first stood, not moving an inch.

No one knows what to say or do.

It’s Dasom who makes the first move. She kneels beside the second in command, her hand tracing the red ring that has formed around his neck with knitted brows. “Are you alright?”

He turns to her, sees the way she bites against her lower lip. It quivers, her eyes watery but holding back, and when he looks up at the rest of the Reapers, they look just as concerned, just as hurt, even Yuna who no longer has eyes has her back turned, a sniff leaving her.

“How odd,” Mingyu utters softly under his breath but the Reapers hear it all. He looks your way and they watch his move, the way he reaches out to you who’s held in Yeonjun’s arms, sleeping, and brushes a thumb under your eye. “Even in that state…she doesn’t know how to shed a tear.”

He hates being unable to come in full control, hates it when he can’t be the one you can rely on but today of all the days he’s spent with you, he hates today most of all.

Because today, you saw him as the very man who has hurt you more than anyone has. You saw him as your father.

.

.

.

“Are you afraid?”

Dasom knows it, Mingyu knows it, everyone knows it.

That of course he’s afraid, that what had happened this morning frightened him more than anything because out of all the things you’ve thrown at him, you’ve never looked at him with pure rage and anger and most of all, fear.

But you did.

You saw him as your father, as the very man who had hurt you from the very moment you were born into this world, as your abuser, and despite it being for only a moment, Mingyu cannot forget that look in your eyes watching him with so much disgust he loathes every part of him now.

Dasom wants to tell him that it isn’t his fault, that nothing he did triggered you into seeing him as your father, that it was probably just a nightmare you received because there will be times when you’ll “awaken” and act on those nightmares, frightened and not in the right conscious awareness.

She wants to tell him, but watching him from where he sits, she can do nothing but watch on, waiting for his silence to end, to answer her question, and return to the formidable man that he always was.

But perhaps there are days even Mingyu has when he has to give in to his worries and fears, though he never cares to share them and probably always keeps those things to himself. He’s the foundation after all, not just for you but for the Reapers as well, and Dasom guesses perhaps she’s become much too reliant on him just as everyone here has.

Everyone has their moments, especially you, but what about Mingyu who always seems to be level-headed, cool, and calm about everything? As if he has everything under control and nothing can shake him. What shakes him?

The answer is you.

You shake him.

“What if she swims too far down and loses sight of where the surface is?” He asks quietly with his back still turned to her, eyes blankly staring out the window, lost in thoughts. 

He already placed some salve on his neck to soothe the pain and wear down the redness from where you choked him, hiding the white bandage under a turtle neck so that when you do come around once more and is actually consciously aware of your surrounding, you won’t have to question why he had hurt himself.

Dasom knows he’d rather not tell you it was you who had hurt him.

Because despite the fact that their boss tends to feign her arrogance, she cares. She cares in the smallest ways and him telling you that you were the one to have hurt any of your Reapers would mean scarring you.

Hence he ordered them to not utter a word about what happened this morning to you.

They promised to keep their mouths shut because besides you, Mingyu’s words are law.

After all, they’d rather not put more burdens onto your shoulders.

You’ve never hurt any of the Reapers in all the years they came and vowed their loyalties unto you. You’ve never laid a finger on any of them. You aren’t like your father in the slightest. You’re powerful but not abusive, you would never raise a hand at them or tell another soul to do so.

In following your father’s steps, you learned what to do and what not to do, following your own morals while learning to grow strong.

The only person you’ve hurt has been Yuna and Yuna alone.

She mentioned it before, once, and never again perhaps because it’s a memory she’d rather not revisit, but in you taking her eyes away, there were nights when Yuna would pretend she was sleeping and hear your soft little sorrys leaving your lips.

You told her you were sorry for being weak, for having to do such a thing just for your father. You told her you hated your father, that you’d rather he died right then at that moment so that no one else had to suffer for your case.

You told her you’d never allow anyone close to your side, that they had to understand what their positions meant before father could ever fall suspicious ever again. You told her she’d be the first and last one.

Yuna, the very first Reaper, sacrificed everything just to be by your side, proving her loyalty and allowing the rest of the Reapers now to be who they are today; giving their vows unto you and remaining by your side for as long as time can give them.

“If boss loses sight of the surface…won’t you be the one to guide her back?” Dasom asks, her voice gentler than normal, her demeanor calm and steady. “Even in the darkest part of the ocean, you always manage to bring boss back.”

“And if she mistakes me for one of the creatures trying to drag her deeper down?”

“Then you continue pulling her up.” She steps in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder in order to make sure he’s looking right at her when she speaks. “Nothing has ever stopped you from protecting boss, you can’t start getting weak now, Mingyu. You know more than anyone showing an ounce of weakness means allowing boss to drown even further. We’re the only beacons in her life, Mingyu, and she relies on us whether she wants to admit it or not. She relies on us and she relies on you. You’re her foundation, her control. When she gets lost in that storm and out in the sea, you’re the only one who can ground her down and keep her steady again. You’re the only one, Mingyu, so don’t lose it now. Don’t lose control.”

Dasom takes a small moment to look down and take his hand. It’s the first time she’s ever seen them look so small, trembling slightly with fear and uncertainty. Mingyu’s always such a bright man who knows just what to do in every situation without hesitating when it comes to the gang and you. He does everything without faltering and now here he is, falling back for a moment, a split moment, and it’s all because of you.

He’s afraid.

Afraid of failing you, of losing you. No one worries about you in the way Mingyu does and because of that, here he is, shoulders weighed by the heavy burden.

“You’re not just her control though,” Dasom speaks again, her voice gentler, quieter, “you’re ours too.” She looks back at him, steady in her gaze. “We cannot afford you losing your cool, not even for a second. But if the time ever passes for you to shake, come to me and rely on me. Let me be your control.” She takes his hand to press against the beat of her heart, causing Mingyu’s brows to furrow slightly with surprise and conflict. Yet Dasom remains resolute.

“Allow me to be your control, Mingyu, so that boss can continue breathing.”

There was a time he once told her in your moment of weakness, when you were passed onto Yeonjun to be taken care of, that as long as he lived, he lived as your foundation. So if there ever comes a moment when he falters and trembles before your eyes, he risks taking your oxygen away and breaking you further.

Mingyu, more than anyone, is afraid of ever showing weakness before you because he’s the only one you can rely on. The presence of him alone, the steady calm air he exceeds all around, can calm you down and allow your heart rate to slow down and breathe again. When the world seems to shake, when it chokes you, constricting you of air, Mingyu’s the only one who can return the oxygen back into your lungs.

“What did you do?” Yuna’s voice echoes in the back of his memories. A younger Yuna, a Yuna he hadn’t known too well yet in that moment. A Yuna who looked up at him with accusation as she stood guarding you against him.

“I…I-I didn’t-” The younger him then was confused, frightened, as the younger girl shouted at him.

“You obviously did something if milady is—” She paused mid-sentence, frozen, sudden, before turning to you who sat on the floor, hands in her hair, trembling like a leaf.

“You cannot, Mingyu, you cannot show her your weakness, no matter what. Otherwise you’ll trigger her and that is the last thing we want.”

There was a mistake he once did, a mistake that had almost cost your stability. He was young and naive then, thought he knew everything, thought that he was good enough to be by your side. It was Yuna who had to teach him everything, who taught him how to handle you, how to behave around you, everything.

Everything until he learned to take it a step further and help you in ways the little Yuna was unable to. Only then, only when he grew stronger and more stable than Yuna could ever be, did you allow him to be your right hand man, the only man allowed to be near you when your world seems to be falling apart.

So trembling in even the slightest amount in front of you is out of the question. Mingyu doesn’t ever want to risk the chances of you thinking there’s no one else you can rely on. He can’t be weak. Not in front of you. Not ever.

And Dasom understands that.

She understands.

So he takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, feeling the beat of her steady heart calm his nerves to remind him of who he is and what he is capable of.

He is Mingyu, your right hand man, your control, your breath of air, your foundation.

When he opens his eyes again, they no longer falter with hesitation as he gives her a nod, allowing her the task of being his control when he needs it.

.

.

.

Actions can be harder to execute despite the constant reminder.

He told the Reapers to all act normal, that they must never mention what happened the day you woke up more hysterical than any other times you’ve been, but still a part of him fears you still have that part of you still in there somewhere, that somehow, someway, you’ll still mistake him of your father.

In all the years he’s spent secretly loyal only to you, Mingyu has always wanted you to be more expressive and more honest with your feelings. In all the years you’ve lived under your father, you’ve never had the courage to act any other way than living in a void of emotions, unable to feel anything.

Not anger, not sadness, not anything.

Or at least, you were always the best at hiding them and suppressing them.

But ever since his death, it’s almost as if your body and mind know of it and has allowed you to begin acting up, to show your emotions a little more, to be more aggressive, and feel less in control of yourself. You dream more, you wake up more often than usual in the middle of the night in a daze, sleepwalking, sleep talking, and awaken with no memories of what you had done during those moments. 

You’ve come to rely on him even more, reaching out for him, getting more anxiety and panic attacks, falling out of control, and having him to reel you back in.

And even though he knows you’re smart enough to understand that he would never do anything to hurt you, that small little moment of you frightful of him will forever be engraved in his mind, whether you know of it or not.

But Mingyu tries his best to remain calm and collected, not wanting to alert you of anything wrong. He doesn’t want your mind drifting off to something else when you’ve already got a handful of problems weighing you down.

Today you sit on a chair that faces sideways from the window, arm resting against the armrest as you look down at your hand, the one wrapped in white bandages from your last visit at the Bangtan manor.

He hopes you don’t notice it got a bit worse after you ignored the healing in order to go after him the day before, but knowing you, you’re smart enough to notice even the slightest of change.

Still, you don’t speak on it.

“Mingyu.” You say and he almost breathes a sigh of relief at the call of his name. “I…” You speak slowly, still in a space where you aren’t fully conscious but you’re getting there, trying to return to reality, trying to reel back in. “I want to visit the kids,” you look up at him, lids heavy but trying, “The Academy.”

He gives you a firm nod, obedient. “I understand.”

And so Mingyu walks off to ready all the things necessary for your departure while you remain in the seat beside the window, staring out with a blank gaze, head lost in the clouds.

You dress warmly in white and a soft style, scarf hiding the bandages around your neck, hands hidden under your long sleeves being as the gloves causes a bit of pain when placed on top of your injured knuckles.

When you step out of the car to find the building you built about two years ago, some bits of memories flash back into your mind.

The children, Ying’s victims, all now reside here after finally having enough power and influence to be able to rescue them. You’re sure all the things they’ve been through probably still cause them nightmares but you hope that in a way, you building them this safe place rather than abandoning them in orphanages has been able to help if even a little.

Your sudden visit, even while Mingyu had called in advance, causes a ruckus.

The kids are all excited from the very moment you step onto The Academy grounds, eyes watching you with awe and fascination from the windows, and when the doors open for you, the headmaster and two other faculty greet you with formal bows leveled respectfully your way.

You shake off the formality and look at Mingyu's way to do the speaking for you.

“Be at ease,” he commands. “Boss is only here to see how things are going. Resume your schedules as they were.”

“We’ll have someone escort you to navigate you through the floors.”

“No need. We’ll just have a look around.”

“Milady!”

“It’s Lady Y/N!

“Children—”

You put a hand up at the headmaster’s scolding and she’s quick to back down. Then with another respectful bow made your way, the three of them walk off to their previous posts, as per Mingyu’s orders, while you turn to the kids who once looked hesitant upon almost getting scolded.

“Look at that,” you stare at the familiar faces, “not so skinny anymore, are you?” Their faces are quick to light up at your familiar approach. “Have you been eating well?”

“Yes, my lady!”

“Look, I’m growing muscles!”

“The adults here are kind, my lady.”

“But don’t worry, we won’t naively trust just anyone here.”

You raise a brow. “Will you?”

“Everything Lady Y/N says is law so of course we’ll abide by anything you say.”

“And what did I say about trusting me so easily?”

They quickly frown with protest.

“But you saved us.”

“And built an academy just for us.”

“And we’re fed well and trained well.”

“And get to sleep in a comfy bed when night falls.”

“How can we not trust you?”

You take a glance at Mingyu’s way when they come at you with all the good deeds you’ve given them, sighing when he gives you a simple shrug. Well, at the end of the day, whether you’d like them to listen to you, kids will be kids and look towards the ones who treat them with the most kindness.

Though their loyalty is the most reliable.

“You look a bit tired, my lady.” One of them notes with a more apprehensive approach, her lips pressed into a small pout, brows creased slightly. Lily stares at you with concern. “You look like how we looked when we were still with Ying.”

“Are you eating well?”

“If you’re hungry, I saved a snack from breakfast this morning. It’s really good, my lady.” Sunoo offers you a sweet bread cake wrapped in a clear plastic wrapper and you simply stand there for a moment, staring at it without a word.

Cakes, desserts, snacks. Things you never got the chance of touching ever since the death of Mister Butler. He used to steal these little things for you. You remember whenever night came, when the whole manor fell asleep with only a few left awake, he would sneak into your room or you would sneak into his and he’d allow you to eat then, away from prying eyes, away from everyone else.

You craved sweets after his death, missed those little moments when he used to make you the happiest little girl in the world. You missed it all.

But you remember clearly when food became something you no longer craved, when it became the very thing you grew to fear and you would only eat the food you knew you could trust in tiny portions, just enough to let you get by.

And now you can’t even eat anything that hasn’t been made physically by the hands of your Reapers. Only the Reapers. So whether Sunoo has good intentions or not, you cannot accept his gift.

“I’m not hungry,” so you state looking away coldly from his gift and for a second you think it may have offended him, that it may have hurt him, but he recovers rather quickly as if coming to understand your ways of doing things.

To them, no matter how cold and ruthless you may be, you’re still their savior. Their first kindness.

“Ah then maybe you’re just tired,” he says, putting his snack away into his pocket again.

“If you’re tired, you should rest, my lady.”

“Oh but maybe she doesn’t like sleeping because of the nightmares.”

“Do you get nightmares too, my lady?”

“Or maybe things are just too busy with you.”

“You’re not overworking yourself, are you?”

“What happened there?” Junho points and when you look down at your hand, you realize he caught sight of the bandages. They all pause in their questions, blinking curiously when you hold your hand up to your face, the memories of that night wanting to slip in.

“I punched glass,” you say and they all collectively gasp.

“Whoa, you’re so cool!”

“It must’ve hurt though!”

“Did it hurt? Does it hurt now?” Hyerim’s eyes follow your hand when you place it back down beside you, her lips slightly agape as she hesitates in her approach for you, fingers fidgeting just as she looks up for your reaction. When you give her no protest in her cautious approach, she takes your hand in hers, holding it gently in her tiny little ones. “I hope the pain eases soon,” she whispers sincerely as her fingers softly glide against the bandages, soothing over your knuckles.

You stare at her for the longest time, the peace in you rising as your anger and frustrations from the past few days, weeks, and months begin slowly calming from their fire.

“I hope the pain eases soon,” she says, and when the rest of the children look at you with that same hope and light flashing in their eyes, you feel a small little ache in your chest as you realize that perhaps, in some ways, the person you are to them is the same as the person Mister Butler was to you.

It hurts.

Ah, it hurts.

.

.

.

Walking along an empty road just a few blocks away from The Academy in order to clear your head, you hear the sound of a click that can only belong to a gun and stop in your steps, remaining nonchalant as you turn at the gun pointed at your head.

A man.

Two.

One with a child held against the guy behind the first one who has a gun to your head, covering the little one’s mouth so he doesn’t make a sound with a gun also to his head. You see tears streaming down his face, the kind little boy who always led the little ones to remain brave and strong in your absence, who offered you a sweet snack when they thought you were hungry.

Sunoo.

“Do anything and the boy dies,” the man before you warns and you look his way, looking bored with your hands held behind your back, simply staring without falter.

And you guess he must have sensed your lack of fear because his brows crease right before there’s a sense of relief in his eyes when you feel a few more presence just behind you.

“Hello there, buttercup. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

You physically freeze in place.

Buttercup.

There is only one person in this world who has ever constantly called you buttercup and that person is,

“Lady Nari,” the man who holds you at gunpoint greets, and both the two men’s heads fall into a bow, though they don’t forget to keep their eyes on both you and Sunoo.

You hear her heels click when she walks over, feel her close behind you as you take in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel her hand on your shoulder.

You’re surrounded and one move will mean Sunoo’s life.

“Now then,” she says, “why don’t you throw away anything that will have your people track you down easily, hm?” She asks, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Unless you want the boy to die?”

Nari knows how much power she holds over you right now and that is an expression you’re far too familiar with. A spoiled little girl who grew up with a loving father who only knew to give his daughter everything she wanted. Just how many years has it been since you’ve last seen her?

None of your Reapers, not even Yuna knows that she’s one of the people who’s done you wrong, and perhaps even Nari understands this situation, which makes her all the more powerful. Who would suspect her when you’re so great at keeping your lips sealed?

You rid of your earrings, tug your necklace off, and throw any weapon on you onto the ground, all the while keeping your eyes on the woman before you, knowing there is nothing that can be done. Not unless you want Sunoo to die.

“What a good girl you are, buttercup,” she grins with brightness, “you’ve always been such a good girl, haven’t you? Though inspection is of course still needed. If anything else is found on you, you’ll receive a nice little punishment, just the way bad girls are supposed to get.”

Nari takes a few steps back, signaling to her men.

“Search her.”

Your back straightens like a tall pole as you hold your breath back while you let your eyes flutter close, trying to manipulate your body into believing the hands that fall onto you aren’t anyone threatening, that you’re okay, that you’ll be okay.

If you give Nari even the slightest bit of weakness to hold against you, you’ll end up worst than what will happen to you now so you keep still, not resisting, not doing anything, as you hear struggles from a few inches away.

“Don’t struggle,” you tell him, meeting the little boy’s eyes straight on as you allow your focus to fall on him and him alone. You try to imagine the peace he gives you, the conversations you had with the little ones just a few minutes ago as your breath threatens to give out but you hold yourself steady, watching him intently because it’s the only thing you can do.

You’ve asked Mingyu to return to the manor, he’s not here right now, and the only person here on your side is a little boy who looks up to you and sees you as his hero, his savior. He’s the only one you can rely on now in order to help you catch your breath, in order to allow you a moment to breathe again.

So you focus on Sunoo and Sunoo alone, and as if he can feel your sense of panic and how he holds some power over being that person to ground you down, Sunoo stops struggling against the man, eyes meeting you straight on.

Don’t be afraid, you wish to say and the message conveys to him when he focuses on his own breathing, trying to look as brave as he possibly can with your eyes solely on him and him alone.

When the search ends, you feel something hit you hard in the head and then the world falls pitch black.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the snakes

— summary: you're left on your own to save your own self

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.8k

— warnings: kidnapping, allusions to torture

— PART 19 / previous post / masterpost

“..lady.? My lady..?”

A vision of blur, a haze falling over your eyes, yet slowly but surely, you’re beginning to come back to yourself as the aching pain in the back of your head becomes more and more apparent with your consciousness beginning to return.

You find Sunoo who stares down at you with much worry, his eyes frightful and shaky, brows arched in a furrow, his lips quivering a bit. He probably felt you stir and realized you were finally coming around again because when you start to rise from the cold, hard floor, he’s right there to help steady you.

You take a moment to blink hard, trying to get rid of the hazy vision, and in the darkness of the room, your eyes slowly adjust to the low light as you make out someplace that looks like some sort of cell.

“Are you alright?” Sunoo asks after you but before you can answer him, another voice comes in.

“How’s your head?” You almost jump, quick to turn at the source in a defensive stance as you realize you aren’t alone in this cell with the little boy. There’s someone else, someone familiar, someone you know. “There’s no need to be so alarmed, I won’t go near you,” he says, voice low and calm for the strange situation you’re placed in.

“...Yoongi?”

He remains in the darkness but even then you can make out his figure as he sits in a corner, an arm on his propped-up knee, relaxed against the wall behind him as if it’s been some time since he’s arrived here.

You turn back at Sunoo who gives you an innocent shrug before putting your focus back on your ex-boyfriend.

“What’re you doing here?”

“The same reason the two of you are here.”

Your brows crease. “You know Nari?”

He shrugs lightly, “You could say that,” before repeating the question to you. “And you?”

“..Well.” Your answer is short and curt, refusing to let anything reveal itself, but Yoongi accepts it, not pressing you any further in the same way you don’t press for him.

When you hear the little boy behind you shiver slightly against the coldness of this room, you give up on being so defensive against Yoongi and turn back around as you take your jacket off to drape it over Sunoo.

“Is your thigh okay?” You ask, patting lightly on his right leg. “You let me lay on you for support when I was unconscious, don’t do that again. In times like this, you have to worry about yourself first and foremost. I’m stronger than you after all. I can withstand the cold and sleeping on the hard floor isn’t something I haven’t gotten used to.” The White Room was always like this after all. Like a prison cell.

Just brighter.

He presses his lips into a thin line at your chiding, head lowered as he hunches up his shoulders, shrinking at your demand. “I’m sorry.”

You accept it with a hum. “How long have I been out?”

“Um…it’s been a few hours...I think.”

Good. A day hasn’t passed.

“Did any of them hurt you when I was unconscious?”

He shakes his head and you try to detect any lies in his eyes but Sunoo beckons over at Yoongi unexpectedly. “The mister helped me when one of the guys tried to hit me.”

You turn towards the man, who doesn’t react one bit. Well, Yoongi’s never been one to stand down when he sees violence displayed against innocents, especially when it comes to children, so that much isn’t a surprise. Though it does beg the question of just how he got here, when, and why. What’s his connection with Nari? In the three years you’d spent with him, Yoongi is known to be a man who doesn’t stick out too easily, not in the way Jimin or Seokjin does, so he’s not one to attract personal enemies all on his own.

So what’s the deal with Nari? How did he get kidnapped in the first place? And why are you here on the same day as him? You haven’t seen Nari in a while but perhaps she’s been keeping up with what you’ve been doing ever since your last encounter.

She’s obsessed like that after all, not one to simply let things go especially when it comes to someone she feels inferior towards. But she’s never had the chance to go after you with all that she wishes without your father constantly by your side.

She saw an opportunity and took it.

He’s gone now after all.

But isn’t her father still alive? Did her father ask her to kidnap you? No, maybe it was Nari who took it upon herself to take you away. You wouldn’t put it past her.

You look around the cell room, trying to find a weak spot but there are no windows, no holes in the walls, nothing on the ground that can lead to some secret passageway a previous prisoner has decided to dig themselves out from.

The only escape is through the bars right in front of you. Solid, strong bars that seem to be well taken care of without much rust seen on them.

“I assume you were taken alone,” you speak into the silence after leaving Sunoo’s side, voice low as you eye the outside of the bars. Yoongi hums in response. “You think anyone would think to suspect Nari on your end?”

“No,” he states with a sigh. “None of the boys know I even know Nari.”

You turn from the bars, raising a brow as you lean your back against them, arms crossing before your chest with a heel held up against one of the bars. “Who would have thought you have your own secrets you keep hidden from them.”

Yoongi shrugs at your accusation, not denying it as he looks off to the side, eyes falling a bit distant. “Everyone has secrets. Some are better at keeping them than others.” He pauses. “Like you.”

“Well,” you look away at his accusation, “it’s true that no one alive knows of my connection with Nari, which will make it harder to suspect her. Nari isn’t someone who will keep evidence behind for people to find, whether on accident or on purpose. Her people are always there to pick up after what she misses, they’re all meticulous like that, so if none of our people know to connect her with us, that means the only people who can get us out of here is ourselves.”

“You plan to leave with me?” Yoongi raises a brow, suspicion falling your way.

“I killed Namjoon’s brother,” you look back at him, eyes pointed without a bit of falter in them, “I might as well rescue one of his boyfriends if I’m given the chance.” Yoongi watches you, steadily, to deject any weakness, anything at all, but you’re too good to show any emotions whatsoever, and after a brief glance made at your bandaged neck, he looks away, wondering where the girl he saw back at the manor went.

Weakened and out of control.

It seems the further away you are from your Reapers, the easier it is to distance yourself from emotions, from feeling. It’s probably your body’s way of protecting itself, knowing just when to shut down and keep your guard up with the strongest steel, not leaving any gaps behind.

Your Reapers are probably the only escape you can find to help you feel anything, though Yoongi guesses even then, you probably don’t know just how to release everything you actually want to feel. Whatever you’ve gone through, whatever secrets you’ve kept from them back when you were still in love, and the new secrets you’ve created after the divorce, they’re all things he knows he will never come to know the answers to.

Not unless you tell them yourself.

You hurt, you lie, but it is all to protect yourself. He wonders if Namjoon had never forced you out of the Bangtan manor would you have been able to let your guard down a little more? He wonders if you would have allowed them to protect you.

It wouldn’t have been an easy journey but he wonders if you would have been able to trust them a little more in the love that you held for them.

.

.

.

“Mingyu.”

In the silence of the empty bedroom where the little kid should have been, Dasom’s call is loud and clear as he simply stares at the neatly made bed in the right corner of the room, left untouched.

It’s one in the morning, Sunoo’s roommate has been moved to another room in order to be with his friends, that way sleeping would be easier for him, that way he’d feel a little less guilty about something he has no purpose in worrying over.

“Do you think they’re together?”

You also should have returned hours ago but when one of the Reapers went to pick you up, there were no signs of you anywhere.

Just the same as Sunoo.

“Boss knows how to take care of herself, she would have never fallen into the hands of someone else.” He steps over to examine the boy’s desk, two books sprawled messily, three more held up on a small shelf, a pencil cup, a notebook. “She also knows how to defend herself while protecting others. But,” he takes a book from the desk to flip through its pages, “not unless she was outnumbered and there was a defenseless child involved. Boss would never risk the chances of them getting hurt.”

“So you confirm that they’re together.”

He nods at Dasom’s question and finds the headmaster letting out a sigh of relief at that.

“Yeonjun.” He calls, and the younger man is instantly by his side.

“All the security cameras around here have all been destroyed. The only thing I found was through The Academy’s security cameras but the only glimpse I got from both boss and the little boy is that they headed towards Garden street. The camera doesn’t span very far though. Boss’s gadgets have been turned off a few blocks away but we searched all around and we’ve found nothing to note of her belongings.”

“They either took it with them and destroyed it at a different scene or they have it on them at the moment.”

“Either way, they’re meticulous,” Dasom says after Mingyu as she turns to stare out at the window of the little boy’s room. “No evidence left behind, and they took them hours before anyone saw any of them.” She thinks for a moment as the two boys continue trying to look through the room, before Dasom turns back around, her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t think it’s someone from her past…do you?”

Mingyu pauses for a second before proceeding to speak. “We can’t rule out anyone but if it is someone from boss’s past,” he glances Yeonjun’s way, “it’ll be a headache to try and figure out who it is that’s bold enough to kidnap boss. Especially with how secretive she is with everything.”

He runs a hand through his hair, already feeling the migraine coming through.

.

.

.

Loud footsteps echo suddenly into the silence of the hallway, coming closer and closer, and in an instant, you have Sunoo behind you, away from the bars of the cell with an arm held out to cage him back from whoever it is that’s on their way here.

Yoongi looks up on high alert, prepared just as you are, though you both know you can’t make it out as easily as you hope to. But getting any information no matter the circumstances is vital and you’re prepared to do anything to try and find a way out.

No one from the outside can help you after all. None of your people, both yours and Yoongis’ know about your connection with Nari. They’ve never had any reason to suspect it after all, so why would they start now? And with you being so secretive and Yoongi having his own reasons for hiding things, there’s no way anyone outside can find anything to start suspecting.

The guards come in five, all of them buff and tall, and you can feel the beat of your heart drumming harshly against your chest, the memories and trauma wishing to tear you apart but you take deep, deep breaths, steadying yourself.

Mingyu’s taught you techniques to calm yourself down when you feel as if your life will be in danger. He’s taught you how to control the beat of your heart, how to manipulate your mind into thinking things are okay when they really aren’t.

You’ve been placed in scenarios where you’ve had to toughen yourself and let your mind pretend you’re fine before so you know you can do this. If these men are hoping to grab you and take you away to wherever, you can manipulate yourself into believing their touches are not those of men.

As long as you’re prepared beforehand, you can do it.

So you close your eyes when you hear the sound of the chains on the lock moving about, knowing that it is to be opened any second now, preparing yourself for whatever it is to come.

“Mr. Min.”

And yet they call for Yoongi instead.

You look over to where two of them move to him just as another follows but stays a few steps behind, giving you a simple glance with piercing dark eyes that tells you if you were to make one wrong move, Sunoo will have to pay the price.

Both you and Yoongi aren’t dumb enough to make a mistake in costing the life of a child.

So you watch as they place a blindfold over his eyes — a smart move on their part because there’s always a risk prisoners will try to find ways to escape during the maneuvers from their cells — and tie his hands together from behind, pushing him out the cell.

When the door clangs closed and the cell is locked up once again, you hear Sunoo let out a quiet breath of relief just as the six of them all leave.

“What will happen to that mister?” Sunoo asks, his hands trembling when he tugs onto your sleeve, his eyes looking up at you with big brown eyes when you turn to him. He looks frightened, afraid of the fate that is to come to him, so you press a hand on his head to try and comfort him somewhat.

“I don’t know,” you admit, not wanting to sugarcoat things because you know he probably already understands to an extent what is to come for Yoongi. 

Everything depends on what Yoongi means to Nari’s gang — the Viper gang — and how he got involved with them in the first place. Did he piss them off? Somehow that seems a bit unlikely in your opinion. The Yoongi you knew isn’t someone who goes around messing with other gang members that have no association with Namjoon and his orders. He listens to whatever Namjoon tells him, they all do, so he wouldn’t deliberately piss someone off accidentally or due to personal reasons. Yoongi is careful, calculated, and minds his own business.

Whatever his relationship is with the snakes, whatever brought him to be a target under Nari’s radar, that will be what determines his fate in the end.

“What about us? Will we be next?”

He looks so small beside you. It reminds you of the time you first met him down in the undergrounds, a frail little kid so bony the small clothes they had him in couldn’t even fit him properly. Sunoo was malnourished, just like the rest of the kids down there, but in the few months you had them in The Academy, he’s been able to grow some fat and muscles. One day he’ll look his age.

If we manage to get out of here, that is.

You aren’t too worried about him though because if there’s one thing you know about Nari, it’s that she has a soft spot for kids.

She’s a tough nut to crack but in the time you spent with her, you came to realize that Nari, no matter how spoiled of a brat and narcissistic she is, at the end of the day, she cares for something. Perhaps it’s the only thing that has kept her sane in all the years she’s lived as a daughter of a mafioso.

Every child is a victim in the end.

The parents are all to blame.

“You’ll be fine,” so you tell Sunoo, a promise he knows you wouldn’t give him unless you were absolutely confident. You aren’t someone who will lie just for the sake of things after all. You’re strict and hard on everyone, including the kids, and in the adult world of lies, your truth has always been something they could rely on.

“And you?” He asks, and when you don’t give him a reply in return, Sunoo’s brows crease with fright and anger, the sort of expression he didn’t give you when he thought about his situation. It’s admirable the way he cares more for you instead. He was the same for his fellow friends when they were under Ying’s reins.

“You should worry more about yourself.” You turn your body fully his way, pulling the collar of his jacket closer around his neck, then slide your hand through the right of his pocket where you remember he hid the snack he offered you hours before. “Eat. You need your strength.”

“But-”

“Do not disobey me, Sunoo.” When you use his name, he closes his mouth shut. Despite the protest still seen on his face, he listens to your words because he knows he has no other choice. You only stop looking at him with a hardened expression once he’s torn the snack open and begin to bite on it. “If there is something you must know, if you wish to protect me in your own way, that is,” his ears perk up, attention on full display, and you give him a pointed stare, “do not cry.”

It is easier said than done.

Surely you must know it isn’t easy for a child to obey those words no matter how much an adult tells them they shouldn’t cry, right? 

Of course you know.

You know more than anyone.

How many times has father punished you for going against the things he wished for you to do? How many times were you weak when he asked you to be strong? How many times did you still tremble before a gun when he asked you to master it? How many tears did you shed when he commanded no emotions out of you?

It took time to become the puppet your father wished for you to be and despite having mastered it so well you still have his thoughts instilled into you after his death, it wasn’t something that happened automatically after one day.

Still, you ask of Sunoo to listen to this one command.

“When they torture me and hurt me, when you hear my cries and screams, do not cry. Do not move a single inch. Do not show your emotions to the enemies.”

It is the very words you uttered to your Reapers when your father still lived.

.

.

.

Yoongi doesn’t return.

But the guards do.

And when they do, they take you away without Sunoo, who in turn panics instantly, his face contoured with pain and affliction, fear consuming his thoughts they indicate so clear in his eyes. But you stop him from wanting to go at it with the guards before he gets himself into trouble with a simple look.

That look is enough to have him freeze in place as he remembers the command you gave him prior to the guards returning. He takes it in, watching as the guards tie your hands up behind your back, a blindfold covering your eyes.

The last thing you see is the struggle he holds plastering his expression; a struggle of knowing he must do one thing but wanting to do something else.

He wants to protect you, to rid of the men who’re taking you away to wherever they may hurt you, and yet the words you told him lets him remember that if he does actually want to protect you, the only way he can do so is by doing nothing.

By pretending none of this is affecting him.

By holding no emotions.

Just as the Reapers once had to follow and obey when they lived by your father’s side, watching day in and day out when you would make a small mistake and get punished for it.

Watching.

Watching.

All the while pretending to be robots who cared about nothing.

If a Reaper fails this task, you would be on the verge of death and the Reaper would never see what tomorrow looks like.

Sunoo may not understand it yet and Sunoo may never understand it but you see the way he falls with conflict in the same way Yuna used to look. In the same way Yeonjun did, and Dasom did. In the same way Mingyu did.

And the rest of the Reapers.

The battle between wanting to care but knowing that is the most dangerous risk one can take.

You’re sure he’s holding onto the bars of the cells when the doors lock shut and when you’re escorted away. He calls after you, small voice breaking with despair and fear not for him but for you. 

You know that deep down he must worry about what’s going to happen to him, about the fate that lies before him for the next few days, and yet right now the only thing that really matters to him is your well-being.

You chuckle to yourself.

He really does remind you of the Reapers. He’s got the heart of one, though you know you can never allow him to serve by your side.

Yeonjun has and will be the only youngest member of your guards.

You count each step you take being escorted away, having hope in Sunoo being okay, knowing to keep your head alerted at all times.

The blindfold serves no weakness; it isn’t see-through and you can’t see anything whether you look up, down, or sideways. It’s completely see-proof. So the only thing you can rely on is counting every step you take, as well as the twists and turns you make through the hall of the cells. 

If you ever have to return to these cells for Sunoo or whatever the reason, you can rely on your memorization skills. You’ve done it before in the maze of Leehyun’s mansion.

A door opens, a few more steps, and the ropes fall from your wrists, replaced by two chains on each wrist, holding your arms up from the wall it’s chained to. Only after they’ve secured you do the blindfold get taken off.

And then, you take a deep breath, knowing the pain will now be coming.

.

.

.

“Poor little girl, still waiting for her happy ending.”

You look up at the familiar voice, wanting to laugh at the words she just uttered while her heels click under each step she takes.

Happy ending, what a joke.

“No one is coming to save you. Get up.”

Exhausted and in pain from almost everywhere, you still listen to Nari’s command as you place a palm on the floor, taking effort in holding your body up as it trembles from wanting to keep strength. You see blood dripping onto the floor, having fallen from your head, yet you can’t take your time to think or keep yourself steady because the chain is forcefully pulling you up once again, causing you to let out a little scream of pain.

Nari looks amused.

“How wonderful it is to finally be able to do this,” she says, her smile bright as she claps her hands together, shoulder hunching with delight. “Buttercup, you don’t know how happy I am to see you in such a state. I wish your father had allowed me to let me play with you in the way he allowed the rest of his toys to do so.”

“That’s never stopped you.”

“Right, right,” she nods at your comment, remembering those times as if it was a fond memory to look back on. “But father always reprimanded me once he found out. It was your father that had to pacify my father in the end.” She lets out a sigh, releasing her hands. “Isn’t it such a shame my father was so fond of you and your father was fond of me? What a twist in a fairytale.”

As if she’s ever had to struggle through a father’s lack of love.

“But then again, you’ve always had it far worse than me, didn’t you? Father would never let anyone hurt me after all.” 

You feel your consciousness coming in and out, eyes a blur, sometimes too dark to see anything.

“Tell me, buttercup,” Nari holds your chin up by the tip of her fan, not wanting to get herself dirty in the slightest, and if you could spit in her face you would but you know better than that. “Aren’t you upset your father’s death hasn’t done you any benefit? I mean look at you. You’ve been going after everyone that’s done you wrong and yet they still do things to your head, don’t they?” She pokes you hard on the head, causing your body to stumble back. 

Yet you keep your legs steady. You have no other choice, if you were to let your legs give in, the chains holding your arms up would tear them apart.

“You aren’t as smart as you believe, buttercup. I mean look at you, in the palm of my hands before you could even get to me.”

You sway a bit to the side so you let your right leg take a step towards it, keeping your upward stance. “You were never on the list of guys I wanted to go after.”

“Yes I was!” Nari’s quick to deny, her bold brows knitting between each other, those pearly white teeth bearing against one another. “You were going to come after me sooner or later! You’re just mad I got to you before you could me.”

“Why would I go after you, Nari?” You look straight at her despite your blurring vision, a light chuckle leaving you. “You never posed a threat to me.”

She seethes at your words, offended you would think so little of her after all the time she’s spent trying to make your life a living hell by making fun of you and picking on you whenever she got the chance. She would flaunt your father’s kind attention towards her whereas he always acted indifferent towards you. There were times when she’d order her people to hurt you, times when she’d pretend you did her wrong in front of your father, just to prove and show off the fact that he cared more for someone’s daughter than his own.

Though you always knew the truth behind all of that.

Nari had always been insecure when it came to you. It was your beauty that made her pay attention to you in the first place, because before you walked into her life, she was the prettiest anyone had ever seen, yet the attention flew your way the second you walked by.

Her father and the people that served under her shifting their attention fueled her insecurities.

For a good while you had let her get under your skin because she was right, father always acted as if he cared for other people’s daughter than his own, than you, but the person you are now knows he’s still a psychopath who doesn’t actually care for anyone.

Father always did what he had to do in order to bring forth allies.

He never cared for Nari in the way she thinks he does.

“You’re wrong! I am a threat to you!!” She bellows in a loud screech, already throwing a tantrum upon such simple words. If you’d known these small ticks would get to her, you should have used it against her in the past.

Too bad your past self was too kind and naive though.

“Your father cared for me in the way he’d never care for you! And I’m pretty!” She lands a hard slap on your face before stepping forward to put her hands on your shoulders, shaking you hysterically, forgetting the fact that she hates getting blood on her body. “Look at you, buttercup, look at how you look right now. You’ve got blood running down your head, you’re chained up against your will, barely able to stand on your two feet. You think you look pretty right now?”

You laugh at her naive way of thinking. It’s a bad idea, Nari’s got a big head with a huge ego and anyone who threatens that — her beauty most of all — will be on the receiving end of her wrath, whether they mean to or not. 

“You really think a few hits in the face will cause those heads to turn away?” Still, you provoke her, wanting to have fun in the way you never could when you were younger; always the one who got the punch and never stood up for yourself.

What a pitiful little thing.

Nari’s right about one thing; Nobody is coming to save you.

Her head is quick to snap towards her men in the room, who aren’t fast enough to avert their attention from you. So in that split moment she caught them staring, it only adds fuel to the fire, and you laugh a little louder when she starts screaming.

“Careful, little celery, you almost look like you want to kill them yourself. But don’t you hate doing the dirty work?”

Min Nari.

Minari. The Korean word meaning water celery, a nickname she hates most of all, and along with the fact that she finally realizes she’s tainted her hands by touching you out of anger, she flinches when she catches sight of the blood on her palms. Her eyes bulge, disgust morphing her expression as if she was a germaphobe.

She’s not. She’s just dramatic.

The door clicks open before she can let out another shriek of ire, a voice walking in. “My little princess,” he calls, and Nari is quick to answer to the nickname that’s been bestowed to her.

“Papa! Y/N is—” Her breath hitches suddenly, shoulders flinching, and when you find the sight of her face morphed with something that looks like guilt, you realize perhaps her father didn’t know about this whole setup with you.

Though it’s not the only thing that surprises you today.

Min Yoongi, low and behold, comes walking in right behind the head of the Viper gang, along with a few more members of their force, without a scratch on his face.

So he isn’t an enemy of theirs?

Then just what is his relation to the snakes?

When he meets your eyes among Nari’s sudden silence and Junmyeon, her father, who looks as if he just walked into a scene his eyes weren’t meant to see, Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly at the state you’re in. Though he’s quick to mask that moment of weakness away before anyone else, aside from you, can notice.

He blinks, looks between you and Junmyeon, and you know you shouldn’t reveal anything about your relationship.

Not that you were going to.

“What are you doing?” Junmyeon, that old man, is quick to scold Nari though not without panic. “Quick! Release her!” He commands the nearby men and being that the head of their gang has given them the order, they know not to be in defiance no matter how much Nari begins to refute.

“Papa! You can’t do that!”

“Don’t you know who Y/N is now?” He rushes over to where you fall to the floor the instant the chains are loosened, but freezes when you hold a hand up, asking him not to touch you. He looks frantic, eyes scanning the area everywhere, and Nari doesn’t understand the reason behind his panic. “The Reapers are our allies! You can’t go around kidnapping and hurting just anyone, princess, especially not the new head.”

“Why does that matter?” She complains, her nose flared as she watches the way her father rushes to unlock the chains around your wrists himself. “Papa, you’ve always let me do everything I’ve wanted, why’re you stopping me now?”

She stomps over to where the two of you are, pushing her father aside and grabbing the chain that’s still on you, yanking it so that you’re forced to pull away from Junmyeon, the metal around your wrist digging further into your skin.

“Don’t you love me?!” She shouts, lower lip jutting out into a pout as she ignores her disgust for blood and all things dirty, sitting behind you and bringing her free arm around your neck, pulling you flushed against her chest. “Why do you always care so much about Y/N?”

What a child, still throwing tantrums when things aren’t going her way.

“Princess, I know you’re upset but please—”

His appeasement only makes her more upset. “I want her gone!”

“Get away from Y/N, please. She’s the Grim Reaper.”

“And?!” She tightens her hold around your neck. “She got that title handed down to her only because her father died! If her father hadn’t died, she’d still be living under his shadows. What makes you think she’s strong enough to go against others, much less me? She’d be nothing without her father’s men.”

What a foolish little girl.

You see the way Yoongi looks off to the side and the way dread and alarm contour Junmyeon’s face.

“Don’t you know why her father died?” Well, when speaking to the leaders of your father’s old allies, you did only exchanged words with the heads, not anyone else, so you guess you shouldn’t blame Nari too much for being left in the dark.

“He was murdered, why else?”

“By Y/N!”

By Y/N.

By you.

You feel Nari tense up in an instant, the grip she has on you frozen in place, and even though you can’t see it, you know her face must have quite the amusing expression plastered on now that the cat has finally gotten out of the bag.

“B-but…”

When her doubts kick in, ready to rebuttal her father’s words, Junmyeon continues speaking. “Bangtan saw her the day the former Reaper died, Yoongi can confirm it with his eyes.” Nari looks his way. “And a few weeks prior, Y/N met up with each leader of the Reapers’ allies and we, in turn, helped her plan her betrayal.”

What a day that was, seeing the expressions on the allies’ faces when you met up with them secretly without your father. They questioned what was going on, wondering why the Reaper’s daughter would ever seek out an audience with them without her father. You were always with your father when meetings were held after all, never alone, never away, and when you brought everything you had to the tables, threatening them with things beyond their abilities, they all eventually came to comply.

All you asked was for loyalty in return and loyalty in the mafia world is a code that must never be broken.

Not unless someone more powerful offers them something better than you can.

You forced them to break their loyalty to your father, you’re sure there may be others out there who can try and lead them astray from you, but at the moment, no one is more powerful than you.

The same goes for the Reapers.

You only decided to discard your father’s men rather than use them against him because you needed absolute loyalty. If they would be willing to betray your father for you, that meant they could betray you for someone else. And the Reapers in your hand are people you know would never betray you. You gave them the one thing no one in this world could, after all.

You saved them.

And they, in turn, gave you their life.

Your father’s allies all have the chance of stabbing you behind your back but that’s all the more reason you keep your Reapers beside you. With them, there are no loopholes, and no one will leave your eyes if one were to plot treason.

Though you never expected a certain spoiled brat would think to kidnap you, using a child to make you comply.

You admit that was smart on her part.

But now she’ll be facing the consequences of her action.

Junmyeon lowers his head before you, hands lying flat on the floor, bobbing his head up and down, forehead meeting the wooden tiles beneath him each time.

“I apologize, Y/N, please forgive me,” he begs.

“Papa, why’re you bowing to her?!” Nari still doesn’t understand.

“Nari!” So he calls her name for the first time, a rough, scolding tone in his voice as he levels her a glare. He’s never used her name before when addressing her. “Beg on your knees now or our gang will go down in history.” He returns to bowing again and again your way.

Smart man.

Yet Nari leaves your side to push her father from his repeated action, anger surging further for her father not listening to her and not being able to let things go the way she wants. “Stop it! Stop! Stop bowing to her! She’s nothing!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Nari.” Her head snaps back your way, glare now leveled your way as you find her eyes red, stinging with unshed tears.

“Shut up!” She shouts at you, her emotions getting the best of her as she marches your way once more to land a loud slap that echoes into the room.

The room falls frozen though Nari breathes hard through her teeth, still in denial she’s in a position beneath you, still not wanting to accept it. She refuses to.

And while everyone else around her has turned solid cold, you only let out a hysterical laugh that makes Yoongi look at you with concern, Junmyeon and his men’s expression fall with terror, all the while Nari seethes even more, her face now more red than it’s ever been.

She turns away, stomping when she leaves the room, only to return seconds later with a certain child in custody, her hand wrapped around his neck while the other points the tip of the gun on his temple.

“Stop laughing or I’ll kill him! I will do it!” She threatens in a loud shriek before the corner of her lips curls into a smirk that shakes unsteadily.

She’s frightened of the power you still have hidden up your sleeves, but she still wants things to go her way.

“I know you care for children, buttercup, you wouldn’t let me hurt him now would you?”

Speak for yourself.

Sunoo stands there against his will, and when you meet his eyes, he’s calling out to you. What happened to you, my lady? Why are you hurt? Despite the fear instilled in his eyes (because what sort of child wouldn’t be frightened of a gun pointed to their head), he still watches you with panic and worry. His eyes show anger, and for a second he scans the room, wanting to know just who it is that has caused you to look the way you do, but he returns to you as quickly as they had left.

In a state where he should be more worried about his own life, he puts you first.

That’s what makes him so strikingly similar to the Reapers.

“Nari-”

“And you!” She points her gun at the man who had spoken up, brows furrowed so deep her wrinkles are showing — a sight you know she hates more than anything. “Papa, why have you brought him back here! I thought you only cared for me so why would you bring brother back? He ran away on his own, you should have let him stay that way!”

Brother?

Brother?

You quickly bring your attention to Yoongi, eyebrows raised, eyes widened, because of all the things you thought about Yoongi’s involvement with the Vipers, being Junmyeon’s son was never on the list.

Min Yoongi.

Min Nari.

Min Junmyeon.

Yoongi never told you he had a father who belonged to another gang, much less a sister. In all the times you spent with him, listening to his secrets and insecurities, he never mentioned any of this to you. And with the fact that he’s confirmed that Bangtan wouldn’t know to suspect the Vipers in his kidnapping, you’re sure he’s never told the boys either.

But why?

Now that you think about it, for all the years you’ve known the Viper gang, Junmyeon has never mentioned ever having a son, so…is Yoongi illegitimate or did he receive the same treatment you had?

Neglected and forsaken?

After all, for the longest time, no one knew your father had a daughter and that was all because he didn’t want anyone seeing just how incompetent his own daughter was. Only a few close allies knew of your existence, and after you grew strong, only then did he allow the world to know of you.

Though even then, you were still hidden from most of the world.

“I get it, I get it.” Junmyeon scrambles from the floors to where his daughter stands, hands out to try and appease his daughter. At the end of the day, he will always be a fool for his daughter. “I know you’re upset but hey, now that your brother’s back, you can play with him instead. I know you like having your way with Y/N but don’t you remember the times when you had fun with your brother?”

Fun.

Nari’s definition of fun is different from that of the average citizen, and when you look at Yoongi, he reacts with nothing but his eyes facing the floor, looking tired.

Yoongi. Min Yoongi, is not the type of person who likes torturing his prisoners. Not because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty like Nari but because it disgusts him and he’d rather leave that to someone else. There are times he’ll stop the others from doing too much to the ones that’s done them wrong, times when he’ll leave the room and only return when the screams have died down.

Yoongi will never lay a hand on anyone unless someone has truly pissed him off, and it takes a lot to piss off Min Yoongi.

He doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t raise his hands even during times when it seems reasonable. He doesn’t get upset for himself but he’ll get upset for others, and even then it will take a lot on the other end to actually get him to do something.

You’ve seen Yoongi upset before, you know he’s capable of being the hard man Namjoon and the others are when they’re upset, but you’ve never seen him lose control to the point of wanting to punch someone until their death.

Min Yoongi doesn’t get angry.

And you think that perhaps he’s always been such a quiet man because the family he grew up with never cared to hear his voice.

Here is Junmyeon, his supposed father, trying his best to make his little princess happy, by using his own son as a way for her to take her anger out on.

In the end, every father in this world is messed up and the children are to pay for their actions.

Nari, messed in the head. Yoongi, letting them stomp on him.

“I don’t want Yoongi! I want Y/N!” Nari continues complaining like a child, stomping her feet and shaking the gun she has in her hand. “Papa, can’t you see? Ever since she walked into our life, my life has been a living hell!” What an exaggeration. If she really wants to see hell, you can show it to her. “She has the audacity to be prettier than me and laugh in my face! Papa, can’t you do something?”

“She’s the—”

“I don’t care!! Whatever Nari wants, Nari gets. Isn’t that what you’ve told me my whole life? So why are you stopping me from getting what I want now?”

“Because—”

“No one would know,” she says quickly. Quietly. “How would they know?” You raise a brow when she spares you a quick glance. “Her Reapers don't know of our relation, they wouldn’t know to suspect us. How many days have passed already, papa? Have you gotten any threats? And brother’s people don't know either because he’s good at keeping his mouth shut.” She looks between you and Yoongi, a smirk curling along her lips. This one is confident. This one is arrogant. “No one would know.”

“Princess…”

When Junmyeon continues arguing, she keeps going, trying to reel him in. “Papa, aren’t you ashamed to be worshiping the grounds of woman? I thought you were stronger than that, I thought you were more powerful. Now that I’ve gotten everything set up and no one knows to come for us, isn’t this the perfect opportunity to take back the power you had before the Reapers ever came into our life?”

What a cunning little girl, smarter than you expected.

She knows just what to say, knows what pushes her father’s buttons and what motivates him. It’s true that the Vipers have never been more powerful, much less on the same level, as the Reapers. Your father was a great emperor who ruled with strict guidance, leaving no room for discussion, and if he had to make his allies into his pawns and throw them out when they were no longer useful to him, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

The Vipers were just a gang he associated himself with to grow and they’ve been nothing but a pawn in his game of chess.

It’s true if they rid of you now, no one would suspect a thing and they would gain more power than they’ve ever had in their long line of reign. You’re powerful and strong and so is Yoongi, but with Nari using Sunoo against you, the two of you can’t think of escaping without the chances of Sunoo dying.

Junmyeon finally looks convinced when he glances your way, that impending smile on his face just waiting to come, and you lean your head back into the wall behind you, wanting to scoff at the situation.

Well. Looks like you can’t finish your revenge plan after all.

Only death awaits.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the watchers

— summary: sometimes to not protect is the best form of protection

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: torture, arson

— PART 20 / previous post / masterpost

No one is coming to save you. Get up.

A splash of cold water and you’re awake once again. Back to reality. Back to being conscious. Reliving a loop that repeats and repeats until Nari is done having her fun and decides to finally end your life.

Your head is a mess, foggy with a pounding ache that refuses to leave. Beside you stands a man with chains holding his wrists together, sitting on a metal chair, his eyes alive and well, not a scratch on his face while he holds a glare watching you in the state you’re in.

Yoongi never did like watching people getting tortured whether they were his enemies or not.

He’s safe though, unlike you, because the Mins have been smart enough not to lay a finger on his hair, knowing if they were to return Yoongi in a state like you, Bangtan would have his head. 

You admit your exes are quite scary when they’re upset, and anyone that touches any one of them would feel their wrath. You’ve witnessed it before, seen it during times when enemies would feel arrogant enough to put a hand on you. Although Namjoon is known as a calm and collected man who keeps his composure, he’s also quite possessive and overprotective. Anyone who tics him off would rather wish they went through hell and back instead.

So Junmyeon is smart in knowing not to touch Yoongi despite his initial offering in trying to please his daughter.

In the end, you’re the only one dying and getting tortured.

“Ah, I’m bored. Won’t you just kill me already?” You spit out a lump of blood from your mouth, licking at your teeth upon the dirty metal taste, and it only aggravates Nari.

You understand her.

She won’t kill you unless she’s had the pleasure of seeing you in pain and begging her for mercy, but you know better than anyone to go on your knees and beg to a wall. It’ll do you more harm than good.

“Why, why, why?!” Nari complains, her feet stomping as she clenches her hands into fists, throwing another annoying tantrum. “Why won’t you just cry?! Do you enjoy getting tortured so much?!”

“Yeah.” You chuckle in her face. “Who would have thought I was such a masochist? You should keep going, little celery.”

“Stop!!” She covers both her ears with her hands, trembling with anger, before deciding to turn to Sunoo who’s been in the room this entire time, doing the task that you’ve given him well, and pushes him forward. 

He stumbles on his feet, knees hitting the floor, and for a moment Nari flinches before she puts on her brave act once again. “Hey kid, don’t you hate to see your little lady getting hurt?”

She’s switching her play once again, trying to aggravate Sunoo despite the other times she’s failed. What a smart kid, learning to read her and understanding that if he were to give her any reaction, she’d only continue hurting you even more.

“You really don’t care one bit about her?” She grabs him by the collar, dragging him on the floor to throw him right before you, forcing him up on his feet.

Sunoo meets your eyes where you stand, chains still holding you up without allowing your legs to rest one bit, and you see the way they falter for a split moment.

He wants to help, to do anything to ease the pain and have this whole thing shut down but he knows that the only way he can help is to not do anything. So Sunoo stays still even as Nari approaches you from behind, a dagger dragging up your neck and towards your face. More blood pools yet Sunoo doesn’t flinch.

Good boy.

She turns the blade to your nape, painting a scene down to your back which has the chains on you chattering loudly upon your trembling state. Your teeth clench tight, jaw ready to break as your pupils dilate, a breath wheezing out of you as Sunoo is forced to watch, his own eyes wanting to betray his facade.

You see the way his arms shake unsteadily from his side and warn him with your eyes to continue playing the act.

This is a play. You have to act the part or it’ll end.

He bites his inner cheek, hands balled into fists, but in the three seconds he takes to calm himself down, they release and the tension on his shoulders follows along. Sunoo looks away, rolling his eyes.

And Nari takes the blade from your skin.

“Why won’t any of you entertain me?!” She stomps around you, pushing Sunoo away, her eyes a murderous gaze as her grip on the hilt of the dagger clenched so tight to see veins popping. “You want to die so badly? I’ll gladly fulfill your wish, buttercup.”

The blade hovers in the air, Sunoo’s eyes widening, the light reflecting off the silver weapon, and when it comes right down before you, someone pushes her out of the way. Hard. And yet he wasn’t fast enough to push her out in time because Yoongi faces the consequence when he clutches onto his eye, blood dripping from his hand.

You stand there, frozen, as Nari screeches once again for things not going her way, and when her men make a move and Junmyeon walks in hearing her scream, your savior extends his free arm out to the side, displaying a phone with a certain number written in white.

His thumb hovers over the green call button, glaring up at them with a threat, and your brows furrow at how this came to be.

He was just chained up a few moments ago and how did he get his hand on a phone? Is that his or…

You take a look to the left just as Junmyeon follows along to find a dead man on the floor.

No way.

Yoongi’s always been a quiet man but you never expected he was this deadly. He broke out of the chains himself as well, and with both you and Sunoo on his side and the enemies on the other, perhaps he had been waiting for just the right moment to strike all along.

What a man.

You see his head tilted slightly your way and you catch the signal.

Min Yoongi, former heir to the Viper throne, doesn’t need your brain to figure out an escape route. He knows the escape route.

You give him a single nod and he clicks his thumb onto the call button, the phone immediately going into call mode, ringing up who you assume to be Namjoon. He flings it off to the side once it’s no longer useful, believing in the fact that your ex-husband will know what to do, just as the snakes come at him in full force, knowing if he’s getting Namjoon involved now, they’ll have no way out if they don’t kill him now.

While Yoongi busies himself with the enemies, Sunoo is quick to run to your side, his eyes panicking all over.

“Hey kid, think you can grab an axe and break these chains out for me?”

When one of the enemies falls to the floor with his axe sliding right before Sunoo’s feet, you give him a grin.

What great timing. It’s as if Yoongi heard you amidst the chaos he’s gotten himself into.

Little Sunoo picks the axe up with both his hands, and although it’s a bit heavy for him, you trust in him when he swings the blade right onto the pole that’s keeping you hanging. A few hits against them and the chains and you’re immediately folding onto your knees now that you’re no longer forced to stand.

Sunoo’s quick to catch you and help you with the fall when you go down.

“We have to go.” Yoongi returns to your side seconds later.

You look around the room, fascinated at the sight. Yoongi doesn’t like killing as much as the others do and yet he’s filled a whole room with bodies. His father is dead, his sister crouches in a corner, trembling uncontrollably, and you hear a hoard of footsteps and shouts closing in.

You take one look at Yoongi and immediately start fuming.

“Why the hell would you let yourself get hurt in my stead? You do realize that we’re back to being enemies now that Namjoon knows I killed his brother, right?” You punch his chest. “Are you mad?”

He observes you with confusion when you go to tear off a part of his shirt. “...You’re upset.”

“Of course I am. I hate owing anyone favors,” you say when you reach up to wrap the cloth over his bloody eye, tying it tightly behind him.

“You don’t have to owe me anything,” his voice is quiet. “This was…my apology.”

You stare at him as if he has two heads. “What? For what?”

“...You were right. We were still in love with you.” In love. Eleven years ago. When you walked out of their lives. “But we did nothing,” he continues. “We chose Namjoon and…as a result, you were left in a hard place. And I feel like, in some ways, whatever you’ve gone through in all the years after the divorce, perhaps a part of that was our fault.” He pauses. “For letting you leave.”

He has no idea.

But why is he bringing this up? Now? When your lives are about to die if he doesn’t make a move? Still, you say; “You don’t know anything.”

He nods. “I know but—”

“We’ll talk later.” You force the conversation to an end, grabbing the confused and awkward Sunoo so you can pull him into your arms. “For now, carry us,” you command and he blinks, unsure of what you’re trying to get at. “I’ve been tortured for who knows how long, I’m too weak to run. But you,” you beckon your head over at the broken chains, “you’re still strong.”

“My lady, I can run on my—”

“No, you can’t,” you immediately shut Sunoo’s suggestion down, “you’ll slow both of us down.” It’s cold but it’s the truth, and it’s the only way to get him to back off. Once you’ve dealt with him, you turn back to Yoongi, raising a brow his way, so he gets on his feet again but not before grabbing a gun from one of the dead enemies and handing it to you.

After that, Yoongi takes you in his arms where you’re holding Sunoo in yours, and he runs out of the room.

You give Nari a little scare by purposely missing when you shoot a bullet at her feet, smirking at her flinching, and once Yoongi’s out of the room and begins heading down a line of hallways you’ve never seen before, you prepare yourself by putting one arm around his neck, eyes pointed and alerted to guard his back.

Sunoo sits still in his place, not moving an inch, and when you hear footsteps approaching, you ready yourself.

Their bullets come flying past but never hit their targets. It only grazes the skin of both you and Yoongi though that doesn’t stop the two of you from doing your job.

You hold your strength, eyes blinking tightly one moment to keep your eyes from blurring up, and shooting down your enemies the next.

A headshot.

Two.

Three.

Someone stumbles and slows the crowd down on this narrow path.

“Hit that button up ahead, will you?” At Yoongi’s command, you use the long chain still wrapped around your wrist to swing it forward, hitting the red button to open up a door leading down three pathways.

Yoongi takes his pick and you keep your eyes on his back, taking down whoever is within your line of sight.

After a few more loops and turns, you come into a kitchen from a secret door, and once you’ve taken down the servants there with three bullets to each of their heads, Yoongi puts you down on a counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask when he runs to a lower cabinet, looking for something.

“Burning this place down,” he says when he picks up a red gas can and begins to pour the liquid all over the floor and toward the entrance of the secret passageway where the three of you came from.

“I never knew you were one to seek out revenge.” Whatever happened between the Vipers and him you sure weren’t good.

Nothing good comes out of being a child of a mafia leader.

“I’m not, it’s for you.”

“Me?” Your ears pick up more noise. “You’re wrong, the Vipers were never on my list.”

“Maybe not, but they did want you dead just a few minutes ago, didn’t they?”

“Well.”

No use arguing with that.

Once he’s done decorating the place with gasoline and adding a few metal cans into the microwave (deadly arsenic things, you’re sure), and has timed it for two minutes, Yoongi places a gas can in Sunoo’s lap before taking you from the counter, on the run once again.

You hear the microwave starting as you signal to Sunoo to pour the content of the gas can on the trail of Yoongi. He does so without hesitation, careful to not pour too much in one setting, all the while Yoongi leads with his run and you watch the back.

Once the can empties out, he throws it off to the side and you see your exit.

There’s a loud boom to indicate the microwave has gone off and just seconds later, the explosion and fire follow.

Yoongi bounces off on his feet, hurling the three of you onto the ground upon the impact of the fire, and you hear a loud screech ringing in your ears.

“Y/N?”

The two boys scramble to you after the initial shock, eyes staring with concern.

“I…” You hit your ear a few times, scrunching your face up. “I’m alright,” you say after a few seconds. “We have to hide though.”

So Yoongi picks you up once again, this time without Sunoo, and the little one follows closely behind when the man runs off. 

You aren’t sure how long it takes them to find a good alleyway where Yoongi’s sure is safe, but you don’t have the energy to think when he places you down against the dirty ground. You lean against the wall from behind, breathing quickening when you finally have the chance to catch up to the torture your body had to endure.

“Just how long will Namjoon take?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“The manor’s an hour away.”

You let out a curse and Yoongi hurries to rip a piece of cloth off his shirt and wrap it over your torso in the same way you had done for his eye. He ties it more tightly, applying great pressure while you’re bleeding out, right before he wipes his hands of blood on his pants to take out a few greens.

“Run to the nearest drugstore. Find anything useful,” he tells Sunoo with a small wipe over the boy’s cheek, ridding off the blood there.

Sunoo doesn’t hesitate to obey.

“You’ve got a good soldier there.” Once he’s gone, Yoongi turns back to you to pay attention to your needs. “Have you been training the kids? I thought you didn’t want them involved.” He grabs ahold of a hand, inserting a thin piece of needling into the lock of the chain still wrapped around your wrist.

“I don’t,” you reconfirm his thoughts, “though I admit the kid did great not giving into Nari’s ploy despite it tearing him apart.” You take your time breathing in and out before speaking again. “Why have you kept all of it a secret?”

“My involvement with those snakes?” You don’t have to answer him for him to understand just what you mean. “I didn’t lie entirely about my past.”

“No. You’re not one to lie.” The chain releases from one hand and you breathe in a harsh breath of air upon the stinging sensation of your wrist. Yoongi moves onto the other one. “You were indeed someone who ran away, but who would have thought it was the Vipers you ran away from. Who would have thought you were a secret heir.”

He keeps silent for a moment. “You saw it yourself,” he says, “Nari’s adored by Junmyeon.” He doesn’t call him by father, you notice. “Ever since she was born, he spoiled her to no end, all the while his first son was neglected and left to waste.” Your father would have killed to have his firstborn a son. “I did all that I could to get his attention but in the end, it was futile.”

“So you ran away?”

He chuckles at that but shakes his head. “I simply gave up and blended into the shadows like how he wanted me to. Nobody acknowledged my presence and that’s when I left. They never cared to search for me. All their attention was on Nari.”

“Did you resent her?” You ask and he shakes his head once again.

It makes sense. Yoongi isn’t one to hate anyone.

“I played my role as the older brother, I protected her from harm and got her the things she wanted. The scar on my back was from me protecting her on the night the two of us were kidnapped by an enemy.”

“You sure love to jump in front of a blade, don’t you?”

He ignores your comment. “Nari was always greedy for more. She wanted the world.”

“Of course she did, that’s just who she is.” You adjust yourself on the wall, trying your best to not let it touch the blade trails from Nari. Everything hurts and stings and aches. “So why didn’t you tell them?” You ask, looking up at him. “They wouldn’t have cared.”

Every one of the boys went through something after all, so why did Yoongi feel the need to keep his connection to the Vipers a secret?

“Bangtan were enemies with Vipers back then,” he explains, a bitter smile resting on his face. “Namjoon saved me, as I told you. He picked up a discarded trash and raised it. If I had told him then that I was the son of his enemy, you think he would have allowed me to stay? Much less save me?”

“You think he would care now?” 

It’s a question he knows the answer to, and yet something has still stopped him from giving his truth to them. Perhaps it’s his fear of the uncertain, because despite how much he knows the boys care for him, perhaps Namjoon would see it as a betrayal.

Yet he’s given his life unto him, even chose him when he had to choose between him and you.

Namjoon wouldn’t care now. No, he wouldn’t. And yet telling the truth has never been easy.

“What about you?” He turns the questions to you. “What’s your relationship with the Vipers?”

You chuckle at the changing of the subject but let it be for now. It’s not as if he owes you any answer. “Nari hated my pretty face,” you say simply. “Why do you think I’ve been beaten up so bad my face is a mess?”

“You’re still..-” Yoongi stops himself from finishing the sentence and you raise a brow, thinking you know just what he was automatically trying to say, but Sunoo returns just in time.

“I’d say between the time I called and our escape to here, it should be around half an hour or so.” He takes the plastic bag from Sunoo who takes a seat beside you, concern written all over his tiny face so you place a hand on his head, reassuring him. “Knowing them, they’re probably speeding down as we speak so they should be here soon but for now, keep conscious. Kid, talk to her so she won’t pass out.”

He takes something out.

Medicine, supplies, bandages.

“You’ll be alright, my lady.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that you know help will arrive soon so your body is catching up to the long-needed rest that’s coming. You feel each blink you take slowing down even as the treatment Yoongi is beginning on you should sting.

“Keep conscious, Y/N,” he warns with furrowed brows, and you watch the way he rips your sleeves to tend to the knife cuts there. Your heart rate picks up and you’re immediately alerted as you suddenly move to grab ahold of his hand, stopping him from doing anything more. Yoongi persists. “You need to—”

“Don’t let them touch me,” you say quickly. Quietly. “I don’t trust anyone, Yoongi, I’m only letting you do this because I know you’d rather have someone else kill a body than do it yourself, and in those three years I knew you, you’re not the type to caress another so easily, but don’t let anyone touch me. Don’t.”

When you look him dead in the eyes while using the last of your strength to grip his hand so tight it hurts you, Yoongi knows not to take your request lightly.

“O..okay.”

Only after you hear the promise leaving his mouth do you finally let your consciousness slip away.

It’s funny how you still hold onto his words.

.

.

.

Every once in a while, Yoongi will glance at where you’re lying against the wall with Sunoo by your side, while he keeps his eyes steady on the street, keeping an eye out for any familiar vehicles.

His feet jumps up and down consistently, feeling anxious as every second pass by. The longer this takes, the harder it will be on you, and even he himself can feel the fatigue trying to catch up on him.

The good eye he has left shakes, trying to keep clear, despite the ever so often images of flashes of blur, his legs threatening to give in.

Only when he finds a black van that rushes down the street to where the old mansion of the Viper lies, burning still, does he finally feel some sense of relief.

“Sunoo.” He turns to the kid, quick, and when Sunoo runs to his side, Yoongi points at where Namjoon walks out of a vehicle, standing a few yards away from the fire, observing with pointed eyes so as to not draw attention to the crowd that had gathered around.

There are sirens all around and Sunoo will have to run a good amount but someone has to stay with you and he can’t, not with his injured eye. Someone will catch sight of him and he can’t get in trouble with the law enforcement.

“Run to that man. Tell him you know where Yoongi is.” He makes sure the kid looks presentable, fixing his ruffled hair, wiping the dirt from his cheek, and cleaning down his clothes with his hands. There’s some blood on his clothes from where he was held by you but there’s not much he can do about that. “Be careful. Be discreet, don’t let the police see you. If they do, they’re going to question you and we don’t want that. You want your lady to get out of here safe and sound, don’t you?”

Sunoo nods and runs off and Yoongi takes a moment to look back at where you sit, just to make sure you’re still there, before watching the kid run over to where the fire is, now dying down. The Vipers aren’t completely destroyed, but with the death of their leader and heir now dead, nothing can be done to have them raise up to power again.

Not unless the living subordinates turn to him.

But he scoffs at the idea, knowing he’d never put himself in a position where he’ll rule a gang, much less his father’s mafia. They’ve abandoned him so why should he feel responsible to pick them up when they’re down?

He’s no longer associated with them, not since the moment he decided to run away.

All is dead and gone, and he knows you’ll make sure the members who’re still alive won’t continue that way once you’re awake.

They did kidnap you after all, and who can ever forgive that?

“Yoongi!”

His head perks up at the call and before he can register it, Namjoon’s body is slamming against him in a tight hold as if all those moments he’s been away from them have been the most horrifying thing he’s ever gone through.

They’ve never been good at dealing with one of them out of their sight after all, not that Yoongi can blame them. He’s just the same. So he welcomes the hold, feeling more arms coming around his other sides, and when the leader presses his hands onto his face, his eyes are quick to turn from that worried stare to a deadly glint.

“I’ll kill him,” his voice lowers.

“It’s alright, I’ve already done it.”

“What happened to you? How-”

“Before that,” he cuts Jungkook off to turn to the dark alleyway where you still lie, and rush over to your side without concern for his eye. “We have to get Y/N help. Now.”

The first reaction was initial confusion, before their brows furrow in recognition of the face of the woman they once loved years ago, lying against a wall all battered up and beaten, still holding onto life.

Barely.

Yoongi takes you in his arms, careful to not hurt you too much, and Taehyung tries to stop him. “What’re you doing? You’re still hurt, let someone else—”

“No,” he says, voice so formidable that declaration alone is something he isn’t willing to back down for anyone. The six of them stare at him with confusion, shocked at this quiet man who doesn’t usually talk back. And when Yoongi adjusts you even closer to him with such a careful approach, it takes them back even more. “Don’t you remember back in London? When she broke down mad the last time we saw her? She’s afraid of strangers touching her. Men.”

Yoongi’s right.

They’ve seen it with their own eyes how much a touch can affect you, trigger you, but it doesn’t clear them of suspicion on why you’re in this mess in the first place and why Yoongi is the one taking care of you.

“What about you?” Jimin asks. “She ran away from us too.”

“We were kidnapped together and even though she’s still frightened, she’s given me a bit of trust and it’s my job to make sure I can fulfill that trust.” He picks you up and walks over to the vehicle that finally slid up. “I owe her that much, don’t I?”

No one can refute that and so they let him go, before silently following along.

Sunoo who had stood aside, silent as he watched over everything, hesitates when they all climb in behind Yoongi, his eyes shaking, hands trembling by his side, unsure of what to do until Hoseok, who was the last in line, crouches down in front of him.

“What’re you doing, kid? We can’t leave you alone here now can we?” He says, a hand coming over to ruffle his hair. He recognizes the little boy who had been amongst the crowd of kids you saved the night you went after Jummy and Ying. “Frightened, were you? It’s alright now, we’ll get your dear lady to safety.”

“Will she be alright?” His voice breaks a little, knowing now that it’s alright to let a bit of that brave face off his facade. “I…I watched her…and…and I couldn’t do anything.”

What a ruthless world for a child to grow up in.

He was forced to watch the very person who saved him getting hurt and beaten, and catching a brief moment of what you looked like in Yoongi’s arms, Hoseok knows that must not have been easy to watch. Not for a child. Not for him.

He doesn’t know what to say so he takes the kid’s hand and they climb into the van together.

The whole ride, after Namjoon phones Mingyu to let him know you were with them, is silent to the max. There are a lot of questions Yoongi knows they wish to ask. For example, why was he kidnapped? Why was it the Vipers? What sort of relationship did he have with them and why hadn’t they know anything? There were always chances of someone in the group getting harmed by previous abusers but they’ve all been dealt with, Namjoon took care of all of them, yet Yoongi has been the only one who never spoke on anyone who could be out for him.

For all they knew, he didn’t have anyone in particular. For all they knew, he was just a poor little kid who needed the world to treat him better.

So why the Vipers?

And why were you kidnapped as well? They can excuse whatever your story is because it isn’t much of their business to know every little detail about you, but Yoongi? They’ve known him almost their entire life and yet this one detail he failed to share with him was the very reason they couldn’t find him.

And if he was kidnapped, wouldn’t that mean getting more injuries than he’s showing right now?

The bloody eye is bad but compared to the knife trails and gash marks and wounds cutting so deep they still bleed out almost everywhere, Yoongi’s treatment by the Vipers was clearly much better than yours.

They have many questions to ask him but knowing the number one priority is to get you to safety, they keep silent for the moment.

You’re rushed into a small hospital under Bangtan, and while Yoongi needs to prioritize his eye, he makes sure to be there when you’re brought into the surgery room and tells everyone off so they don’t touch you. 

You need help, he knows. He knows it more than anyone really, because for a lot of the torture you went through, he saw it with his very own eyes, and yet the fact that you trusted him enough to fall asleep before his eyes and let him touch you, Yoongi knows not to betray that trust.

He can’t.

He can’t.

So Namjoon allows his people to back off, and the seconds tick by once more while they wait for your crew to arrive.

Yoongi makes sure to follow procedures that’ll help you ease a bit, to slow down your time under the doctors’ instructions, and it’s in this moment do the boys come to see the rare times Yoongi stops allowing himself to blend into the background and do something. He usually keeps himself invisible, quiet, off to the side, keeping his expression at a standstill so no one who doesn’t know him well would be able to tell what’s on his mind.

This Yoongi panics. This Yoongi doesn’t know what expressionless means.

This Yoongi fears.

Only when Mingyu shows up do they finally convince him to get himself treated.

He sits in the room across the emergency room with Hoseok and Seokjin standing off to the side, getting treated by a doctor of their own, while the rest of them stand around outside, waiting for the hours that they know it’ll take to treat you.

Yuna, your blind warrior, sits on the floor of the hospital, her arms hugging her knees with anxiety rocking her body back and forth. She doesn’t say a word but everyone can hear the little sniffles she does ever so often.

She’s like a child waiting on the news of her mother’s accident and everyone knows if it’s bad news, she won’t take it well.

Yeonjun has a book in hand while he sits on a chair beside her, eyes scanning the text though no pages flip no matter how much time has passed.

“I’m sorry,” little Sunoo says when Mingyu crouches down to his level, finally allowing himself to shed the tears he’s been unable to shed in a room full of strangers. “I’m so sorry,” he tells your right hand man, fists knuckle white when he clutches onto his blazer. “I couldn’t protect her.”

Such little shoulders carrying a heavy weight. He worries more about your wellbeing than his own, than the fact that he had to see a whole building catching on fire with people still inside, hear gunshots and people dying, being held at gunpoint, the fact that he could have died and he worries only for you.

Mingyu places a hand on those shoulders, shaking his head. “No one will blame you for that, Sunoo. Not even boss.”

“You don’t understand, I…” He pauses to catch his voice that threatens to bury down the lump in his throat. “Do you remember what you told me when my lady finally completed her rescue plan? When I told you I wanted to be a Reaper?” How can Mingyu forget? “You told me I had to first learn how to manipulate my feelings, that I had to hide them well, and that I needed to learn how to restrain myself during times that’ll force me to act against my will. You told me I had to be a good bystander first and initially, I couldn’t figure out what you meant. Being a good bystander? It..”

More tears fall down those precious eyes, trailing down his cheeks, hanging onto his chin before they inevitably fall to the floor. “I understand now,” his voice breaks. “I know…I know what it means and I…I never want to do it ever again.” His feelings overwhelm him so much he’s unable to stand on his two feet. Sunoo’s knees buckle underneath him and it meets the floor yet he continues to speak. “Lady Y/N was hurting and she…she was chained up and she couldn’t even sit. They forced her to stand the whole time they tortured her. She screamed and…and yet she laughed when that evil lady taunted her and every time I wanted to give up, to yell at the lady to stop, Lady Y/N always warned me not to. It was like she was saying…as if she was saying ‘It’s alright. It’s alright, I can take this. Just play your part, just pretend you don’t care about me, and I’ll be alright.’”

“You must never show them you care. Father will have you dead and I will pay more of the consequences.”

“If you stay silent, it will hurt less.”

“Do not move even a muscle when they hurt me. Do not stand in father’s way or our whole secret will be blown and none of us will survive.”

“This is the only way we can live.”

Yuna’s eyes lost.

Yuna’s eyes are lost.

Yuna.

Yunayunayuna.

Nakyum.

You reminded them constantly of what could happen to them were the truth to be revealed due to a mishap, due to their carelessness. Sunoo had to go through days watching you hurt, the Reapers spent years in silence. Watching.

And no day was easier than the other. There was not a day they wanted to step in, to defend you, to take the whips and blades and all the torture tools from the hands of your perpetrators and shove it up their asses, doing the same they’ve done to you. There was not a day Mingyu wanted to smash his fists onto their faces until they were dead. No, he’d continue even after they were dead.

There was not a day they wanted the revolt to happen so soon.

The day after?

“No,” you’d say. “Be patient. Hold on.”

But they didn’t want to hold on, they didn’t want to see more of you having to go through all those pains and agony and yet they had to. If they wanted to save you, if they wanted you to live, they had to.

They had to stay silent.

They had to watch.

They had to do nothing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her,” Sunoo says.

“I wish I can protect her,” Yuna screams. “Why can’t I protect her?!”

“You know why.”

“You did well.” Mingyu squeezes his shoulders tight, lips pressed into a thin line. “You not protecting her protected her. You did well.” He places a hand behind his head, pressing him into an embrace and the kid cries and cries, his screams buried against Mingyu’s chest. “You did well,” Mingyu repeats. “They would have hurt her more if you had done something so you did well. You did so, so well.”

No one ever told them that but the Reapers know that they, too, had done well.

Everyone in the room knows just what Mingyu means when he said not protecting meant protecting because they’ve all been through it. Namjoon has the power to never go through such things ever again but he’s seen it time after time when he was younger.

Those days his brother still lived with him — still lived — with their abusive father, both of them unable to do a thing but watch when one would get hurt. Those days when times were rougher, when his brother left for a mission and his close subordinates had to keep still and not go against his father when he was hurt otherwise they’d die. Those days when he was powerless.

“Save me,” you begged Seokjin in a moment of madness.

So broken but so full of life before it all disappeared within a split second, turning dull and lifeless like a corpse inside a living body.

You’ve never uttered that in your entire life, have you? He’s sure you haven’t, not with the way you are. Even the you then was stubborn to call for help because she was too insecure, too hesitant and always overthought everything, walls built so high even the people she loved were unable to break through.

You were too broken to ask for help and they’ve been too dumb to realize it until now.

“Save me.”

Seokjin can never forget that day, he can never forget the way you froze when he held you, trying to reel you back into reality after your initial explosion. The way you shakily reached out for him, bloody hands dirtying his white button-up shirt, and looked up at him as if he was the only one you could trust in that moment.

Perhaps a memory flashed into your mind then, perhaps you remembered the way he used to care for you, the way he used to be the one to ground you when you broke down and were having panic attacks. He held onto you when the two of you still loved and you looked for him to calm down, to settle back into the peace he’d always give you when you saw him. He’d be the fastest to help you escape from those nightmares and return you from where your mind would go.

He’d sing lullabies to help you sleep and you’d rely on him the most when it came to nightmares because Seokjin was an insomniac. He didn’t sleep. So during times when you’d awake from a nightmare or needed someone to pull you out of it, it was Seokjin that was always there.

Perhaps in your moment of weakness, you remembered those times and perhaps that’s why you turned to him. That’s why you asked him to save you.

But he knows that right now, you’d get upset if he were to bring it up and take responsibility for you uttering those words to him. The things you’ve gone through after you left them, after the divorce with Namjoon, are things he can only imagine in his head. Seokjin has gone through his fair share of trauma and one traumatic patient can see it in another who wants to hide it well.

You’ve been through stuff, horrible stuff, with Daejung, Ying, Jummy, Leehyung, and so many more on your list. At first, he thought you taking over the throne of your father was just an act of rebellion, but through the times he’s spent with you, he realizes, as do the rest of the members, that the people on your hit-list, the people you’re going after, are only the people that have done you wrong.

Seokjin should have known that someone who was as kind and gentle as you were all those years ago couldn’t have just changed without reason. No one changes that drastically without reason.

But it’s clear as day to all of them that you’d rather they rot in hell than find out the truth to those reasons. That’s why Namjoon refuses to investigate anything involving you and that’s why they’ve all agreed that it’s best to simply leave it at that.

Namjoon wants to know more than anyone what happened to his brother but if finding out about him means knowing more about you, then he’d rather wait and let you tell him instead. Because through their experience, they know more than anyone that figuring out the truth of something when it’s unwanted will only hurt that person, and as much as Namjoon felt infuriated with you at first, he understands.

They all do.

And you would hate them more than you do now if they were to figure out something you’ve been keeping a secret your entire life. No one should ever force an answer out of anyone, and they know that because of your silence, they do not deserve to know.

So until you can trust them, if it ever comes to that point, they will remain ignorant to the fact on purpose. Because why find out when there is no reason to?

Seokjin can’t be your anchor, he won’t, because you no longer trust him enough to even touch you. You’re scared of the world, the whole world, and the only one who can now calm you down as fast as he had done then, is Mingyu, your second in command.

For now, his role is to only stand to the side and watch. Though he knows watching in itself is something you won’t allow him to do. You won’t let him see your weaknesses anymore, you won’t let him near, and you won’t ask him for help.

And all of that is entirely his fault.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the apologies

— summary: how many apologies have you heard in your life? too many to count

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 5.7k

— warnings: none

— PART 21 / previous post / masterpost

“Do you know how much we panicked when you didn’t come home and fell out of the radar?” When Namjoon finally gets a moment amidst the whole chaos of Yoongi finally back with you still unconscious even after the successful surgery, the door is closed and locked, and no one except the seven of them stands in the room of the hospital that is still hosting you. They can finally confront Yoongi about what happened.

“I thought I knew Min Yoongi but the moment you were kidnapped, everything that I thought I knew about you fell out of place when I tried connecting everything to see what happened, who you angered, the people you were around before you joined me, but I came up with nothing. You’re not someone who’ll go out there secretly meeting up with leaders and pissing them off, I know that, and I trust the person that you are now, right in front of me, so I knew whoever was trying to hurt you couldn’t possibly be someone we know, and that’s when I figured there’s been something you haven’t told us. Perhaps it doesn’t matter now, and perhaps it’s all in the past for you, but Min Yoongi, I have to know everything because the moment you get hurt again, I won’t stand for it.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Yoongi says, quick but truthful, and so they listen in to what he has to say. Yoongi hesitates for a moment, remembering what you asked him in the alleyway a few days ago, how you asked whether Namjoon would care now, and because he knows the answer, he takes a deep breath to let the truth tell itself. “I am,” he pauses, “was, the heir of the Viper gang.”

They react with dumbfounded expressions, and Yoongi knows it’s a shock because how would anyone have figured that out? He’s always been quiet, stood back to let others handle things, dislikes watching people getting tortured, and does everything the opposite of what an heir does.

Every child that’s born under a mafia ruler is taught to stand formidable, act a certain way, and talk a certain way. No one has ever been an exception, so of course it comes out as a shock when Yoongi reveals to them that not only is he related to the Vipers but was the son of Min Junmyeon.

And he had a sister.

“Junmyeon never said anything because I was like a child thrown out of the throne that was meant to be his. Although I wasn’t kicked out.” He looks up, a small, bitter smile curling up just slightly. “I didn’t lie when I said I ran away from the life I was born into. I did run. I ran because I was invisible and because no one cared. They didn’t care to search for me and force me back so I didn’t return. For some time I was content with that life. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t sad. I was okay with it. When Nari was born, Junmyeon took a whole 180-degree turn and flipped his switch. His whole life was dedicated to her but I never came to resent the way she stole the attention of everyone in the gang. I didn’t care, but I did want to seek approval. What sort of child wouldn’t? I was a good brother, protected her when needed, but eventually I grew tired of being invisible to everyone and just ran. When no one came searching for me, I returned once to see how things were, to see if they had cared but just had a hard time looking for me. But in the end, no one sought out for the lost heir, they probably didn’t even notice, so I took off to the streets and decided it was better there than to live a doll life, invisible to everyone.”

When he speaks of his past, the sort of person he was before he met them, Yoongi doesn’t speak with emotions. He isn’t that man who was filled with emotions days ago when they brought you here, when he didn’t want anyone close enough to touch you, when he took his promise to you to heart. 

Perhaps it was his guilt toward you, perhaps it was his way of apologizing, and no one would blame him for that.

Yet this Yoongi is different. This Yoongi is the usual Yoongi everyone sees, the Yoongi who looks so lifeless, who looks as if he has no heart or anything he desires in this life.

“We were enemies then,” he tells Namjoon, and this time there’s a bit of life, a small little crease in between his brows. “Your gang and the Vipers didn’t get along and, I knew who you were when you saved me that day from those thugs, yet I still followed you because you were the first person who saw me. You saw me and you saved me, while back in the Viper’s manor, I was kidnapped along with Nari and took a scar down my back for her but no one cared. They never cared, and when I received my first kindness…I decided to follow you. But I was too guilty to tell you the truth about who I was and where I came from. That’s why I never said anything.”

“But the Vipers stopped mattering to me a few years after we met,” Namjoon points out. “Why did you never tell me then?”

“I…” He catches himself, pausing, and takes a brief glance at the others. “Everyone else…went through something much worse than I,” he says. Softly. They watch him with confusion though let him keep speaking. “I grew up alright. I grew up privileged. The only thing about me was Junmyeon’s neglect and being invisible to everyone in that manor. Compare that to what everyone else went through? I didn’t want to bring my problems in, I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with my useless worries. You all had people after you, wanting to actively hunt you down and hurt you.”

“Just because you didn’t have people actively trying to kidnap you doesn’t mean you were safe from the abuse,” Hoseok cuts in as he strolls down to take Yoongi’s hands. He was there when Namjoon saved him, he was right there to have seen the scars Yoongi retained and the pain in the little boy’s expression that night. Yoongi may act like he never cared back then but he did. And both Namjoon and Hoseok have seen it to remember the story otherwise.

“In the end, you were still kidnapped. They showed up years too late but you still ended up hurt.” Seokjin places a hand on his face, brows creased when he runs a smooth thumb over the bandage wrapped around his eye.

“This wasn’t because they went out of their way to hurt me,” Yoongi admits, the good eye meeting the floor with a little tilt in his head. “I actually got hurt because Nari was about to kill Y/N and stepped forth trying to stop her and in the process, she got my eye.”

So they really did have intentions to kill you.

“You watched her too, didn’t you?” Taehyung asks. “It wasn’t just Sunoo. You saw it too.”

He wonders how he would have felt being in his hyung’s position, watching the woman he once loved going through such torture right before his eyes, all the while knowing he could do nothing. In the end, Yoongi was able to save you. In the end, Yoongi carried you out and ran you to safety with the little kid who had been the reason the both of you couldn’t get out that soon.

You both sacrificed something.

Namjoon holds Yoongi’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he tries to envision the pain. Yoongi will only be able to use one eye from now on, and although it will take a moment, he’ll adjust and he’ll get used to it. But for now, they’re here for him, through and through.

“From now on, no more secrets,” he whispers into the silence that walks in. “I don’t want to know how it feels to lose someone else. I can’t.”

.

.

.

Quiet.

Silence saved by the beeping on the monitor that indicates you still live, that your heart is still racing. Yuna, still seated on the floor but now on the floor of the room you’ve been relocated to, sits still to hear the sound, not moving an inch because if she cannot see, she can hear. It’s the only thing that’s keeping her sane.

Mingyu sits on a chair by your bedside. Dasom stands against a wall beside the door, arms crossed, eyes closed. Yeonjun sits on the couch along a wall, watching Sunoo who had refused to leave until he sees you wake, and in his stubbornness to sleep when needed, he’s finally managed to fall asleep with the sleeping dose Yeonjun used on him.

A few more Reapers stand outside the door, watching, waiting.

A finger twitches, subtly, but it doesn’t leave the hawk eyes of your right hand man. 

“Boss?” He calls, standing.

A heartbeat.

Then before he realizes, an arm extends out of nowhere, leaving him in a chokehold with a grip that has lost much of her strength after the event she’s gone through.

“Boss, it’s Mingyu,” Dasom quickly says when she runs to your side and Yuna has followed along.

Your eyes which had been deadly and alerted with suspicion, loses their glare once you realize who the person that had been by your side was. 

You loosen your grip around Mingyu’s neck, brows furrowing slightly as you take a look at your hand, realizing there are white bandages wrapped all the way up to your neck You stare at your fingers, noticing the pain in your wake, before something hits you and you feel a strong headache pounding hard.

You look over at Mingyu when you get up with the help from Dasom, feeling some sense of deja vu, though you can’t explain why.

“Have I…choked you..before?” You ask. As ridiculous as it sounds — because you’d never lay a hand on your Reapers — something about it just feels a bit…familiar, for some reason. Maybe you’re still dreaming, maybe the madness is spreading and you’re just making things up now but why, for some reason, do you feel as if you’ve held Mingyu by the neck before?

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate nor does he look away when he answers; “No.”

You have your reply and yet it still feels odd when you bring your hand to your head, slowly and gently rubbing your temples as you close your eyes. But then something suddenly hits you and you open your eyes again.

“Where am I?” This isn’t the manor or any place that belongs to you. You’d recognize it if it was.

“It’s a small hospital that belongs to Bangtan,” Mingyu explains. “It was the closest place they could get you to for help.” Your eyes widen in alertness but he’s quick to continue before your heart rate can increase. “As far as I know, Mr. Min was the only one to have touched you. He fended off anyone that tried to get close.”

Yoongi went to the extent for you?

You look down at yourself again, dressed in something you’ve never worn before and it almost feels as if you’re playing some patient in a mental ward. Father never cared to send you to hospitals when you were hurt, you were always taken care of by the medic team or during times when he’d punish you by not enlisting their help, it was your Reapers that had to find what they could to help you.

You’ve never been bedridden in a hospital bed before.

What a sight to behold.

You hate it.

When you throw the blanket off you and try to pull the uncomfortable IVs from your wrist, Mingyu takes your hand to stop you. “Look at your legs, boss, you can’t walk. And you’re still in pain everywhere.”

Wrapped legs. Wrapped arms, torso, and chest.

You look like a mummy.

“I’m not in pain,” you deny. “I can walk—”

“No, you can’t.” He stands tall, refusing to let you do what you wish and you know Mingyu only does this when you’re putting your health at risk otherwise he’d never go against you.

Still, you shake your head when he tries to put you back and they hear the way your heart rate increases. You look over at the sound of the monitor, falling with even more loathe because that thing is like a window to the things you want to hide. You try to push Mingyu off, a lump in your throat because it feels like you’re a prisoner and you don’t want to be here.

You don’t want to be here.

“I don’t like this,” you breathe out but Mingyu holds your shoulders and leans in close.

“That isn’t for you to say and this isn’t the place to panic,” he reminds you in a low tone and you know. You know this isn’t the place, you aren’t safe here, you aren’t safe to express and panic and get upset and do whatever it is you want to do but that’s exactly why you don’t want to be here.

You aren’t safe.

“I want to go home.” A shudder comes through you, a tremor in your hands.

The monitor continues updating.

Beep. Beep. Beepbeep—

“Stop it. Please, stop it. Don’t let them come in.” You know it’s alerting whoever can hear it outside this room. You know the door is about to open because you’re a patient and patients mean listening to what the doctors say and what the nurses say and what everyone else says. “Don’t let them come. Don’t let them come.”

“Yeonjun.” He takes Sunoo in his arms upon Mingyu’s command, leaving out the door. “Yeong.” Mingyu speaks into an earpiece and Lisa, Haneul, and Yiseul rush in.

Mingyu, Dasom, and Yuna back off to let them do their job while outside the door, Yeong and Jae have stepped up to stand guard.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asks when the two Reapers hold their hands up, refusing to let anyone else in. From where he stands, along with the curtain covering the one window of the door, he can’t see what’s going on.

“We cannot let you in,” Yeong says strictly. “Please. For our boss’s privacy.”

“Is she hurting again?” Sunoo, who had woken up amidst the chaos, asks with worry shaking him once again.

“It’s not what you’re imagining,” Yeonjun tells him straightforwardly in a blunt tone, before looking up at the group that has gathered as if telling Namjoon he should know exactly what he means.

Upon that subtle confirmation, Namjoon backs down, nodding at his people to leave you be, before he walks off with Yoongi and Jungkook following behind.

On the other side of the wall, you must be awake and not taking things well. You’re panicking perhaps, losing your composure, and only the Reapers are allowed to see anything of that relating to you. No one else.

Back in the manor when you had confronted him and pretended to be the bad guy in his life, he saw a brief moment of you losing your composure. They all did. 

The moment you realized you had touched Namjoon, the moment everything started coming down so you walked over to a corner away from them all. You held yourself well despite everything threatening to tear you apart and Mingyu came in time to get you out of there, but in this hospital where you’ve undergone surgery and cannot move around so carelessly, there is only so little your mind can do to trick you out of panic.

And perhaps because it’s failing to protect you from the eyes of strangers, from the eyes of people you don’t trust, maybe that’s why the Reapers have all come into defense mode and have refused anyone to go near you.

“I want to go home.” Meanwhile, you repeat those words inside the room, feeling your throat clogging up and something scratching it so hard you wish to just tear it out. “I want to go home. Take me home.”

The monitor is still going off while you try to shake the hands that try to hold you down, kicking off the blanket, struggling to stay still.

“I want to go home..” Soon your voice dies down, quieting, quieting, until it turns completely silent and you’re simply doing nothing but trembling uncontrollably. You let your knees kick up to your chest, head lowered into them, hands coming around to cover your ears and they know. They know what’s happening.

You’ve never been loud. Not ever.

And although the silence, coldness, and the dark scares you more than anything else in this life, it is the only thing you succumb to when you feel as if everything has gone out of control.

Your silence tears your Reapers apart because it is your silence that tells them you aren’t okay.

That you’re in your most frightened state.

Lisa lets Mingyu come close when you succumb to the silence and they all stand back to watch him work his magic.

He dips the bed when he takes a seat, and when he reaches out to give your arm a tentative touch and you don’t flinch away, he allows himself closer. He puts both his legs onto the bed and pulls you in like you’re nothing but a small little child who needs calming down. Mingyu brings you into his lap and takes your hand from your ear, letting your head rest against his chest so you can hear the beat of his heart, and wraps his arms around you in a soft, soft embrace.

It takes time but eventually, the shaking stops. Eventually, the tension falls away and you allow yourself to welcome the embrace and let your limbs fall loose.

Too tired to hold up.

Too tired to keep strength.

Beep…beep…beep…

Your heartbeat slows as it follows after the one you’re listening to as if it is the only sound in this world that can save you from the depth of the sea.

The sound of the whale singing you a lullaby and bringing you to fall asleep once again.

.

.

.

“Deal with them. I don’t know what Yoongi wants but it’s not my call to have them dead.”

Days after sending that letter off to Namjoon once things started to calm down on your end, you hear news of the remaining members of the Vipers completely wiped out. You’d been back at your manor for a good time now, ever since waking up for the second time and finding relief in knowing you weren’t at some unknown place. Luckily. 

Your Reapers always know just what to do when a situation calls for it and you’re glad you have them by your side.

With you bedded and unable to walk and do much on your own, you let them follow you through words alone. The Academy is to set up training lessons on both combat and weapon skills. Initially, when building the school you thought against the idea, but since Sunoo’s been used against you as leverage, you figure giving them some life skills should come in handy in the future. They won’t become your little assassins per se but if they want to survive in this world, they have to learn how to fight it. It’s for their own survival, you can’t have a situation with Sunoo repeating again. They should at least know how to defend themselves if anything.

You’ve also told your Reapers the names of the people that have hurt you before, the ones they don’t know of, the ones from before Yuna arrived. It’s a secret you’ve always kept in the back of your memories, not wanting them to return, but if another situation comes out in a similar fashion, you’d rather be prepared.

They have to know, even if it’s just names.

At least then they won’t be led into the dark if you’re taken away again and will have a better chance at suspecting who.

When you’re good enough to stand on your feet and when Mingyu stops becoming so overbearing, the first place you visit is The Academy where Sunoo stays in his dorm alone, isolated from the rest.

“What’re you doing not playing with your friends?” His head perks up when he hears your familiar voice, that look of dread and loneliness brightened up if even for a moment. You see the way his eyes light up, widening, his feet meeting the floor when he jumps down from his bed, quick on his knees with a head lowered down to the floor before anyone can tell him anything.

You freeze in the moment, silent, before signaling to Yeong to have the door closed so that only you and Mingyu remain.

Your second in command walks off to the side, leaning against the wall to give you space when you approach the little boy whose shoulder trembles when lowered before you.

“Sunoo,” you call, and he flinches a little. “It is during times like this you should surround yourself with your peers, otherwise—”

“I’m sorry,” he cuts you off and you simply stand there again, not approaching any further.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Yuna, age thirteen, tears rolled down her working eyes when you ran to room 157. “I just…I just want to make it all better.” Apologizing because she was incompetent.

“I’m sorry.” Mingyu, age twenty-six, uttered the only words he could find when you told him one could not break a broken person. “I want to save you.” But he can’t.

“I’m sorry.” Yeonjun, age ten, handing you a cup of rose water, his jaws clenched after your father’s Reapers left the room. “It’s tea,” he says. “It isn’t poisoned,” he says. And you drink it.

“I’m sorry.” Dasom, age twenty-four, blood on her face, blood on her hands, knelt before you with a head lowered, shoulders trembling. “I won’t make the same mistake as he did.” Killed the first Reaper that almost spilled your secrets.

“I’m sorry.” Nakyum, age seventeen, accepts his fate with a smile, eyes only looking your way with the rest of your Reapers surrounding him. The first to lose control, the first unable to restrain himself. “I hope in my next life, I can run to your side without having to hold myself back. May we meet again…in that life.” Dead.

Someone apologizes when they can do nothing. Someone apologizes when they’ve done something. In the end, fate will always pull the people around you into the hell you’ve been born into. No matter how much you push them away to escape it, to live the life they so deserve, they remain still and stubborn, vowing to always stay by your side no matter what.

Yuna lost her eyes. Nakyum lost his life.

No one else.

No one else.

You sit on the floor in front of Sunoo, crossing your legs together and close your eyes. You take in a deep breath, in and out, head tilted to the sky as if sending a prayer to Nakyum, asking him to continue his duties in watching over you all. You’re still selfish to this day, wanting to hold onto the dead.

“You did well,” you say into the silence. “You did well.”

Sunoo shakes his head, still unable to look you in the eyes. Perhaps feeling unworthy to do so. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t,” you affirm and you see the way his hands ball into fists, turning knuckle white. “One day, perhaps, you can be like that gentleman that stepped in to take the blade for me. One day you will be strong to protect the ones you care about. But until that day comes, you have to accept the fact that you’re weak. Do not dwell on what could have been, dwell on how you could have done better. You acted well and played your part. Nari wanted you to scream and lose control, she wanted you to beg her to not hurt me, she wanted to watch you fall apart. If you had fallen victim to her play, she would have done worse on me, Sunoo, I know she would have. There are people who exist to make things harder on others. There are people who exist to laugh in the face of tears.”

“Even still—”

“Even still,” you cut him off, repeating those two words with more emphasis, “you are a child. And you cannot expect to do anything more than to stand and watch. Sometimes being a good bystander is all there is to do. Sometimes being a good bystander is all you can do. You protected me, Sunoo, so do not apologize for doing what I had asked you to do. But if you find yourself still dwelling on the fact that you should have done better,” you lift his head from where it sits, resting a cold hand on his face when he tries so hard to keep the tears back for your sake, “get stronger.”

Sunoo bites onto his lower lip, eyes kept wide and unblinking because he knows that if he wishes to not cry, a single blink will allow the rain to fall. “Yes, my lady.”

You pat him on the head and stand from your seat before simply walking off. 

When the door closes behind you, only then does he finally allow himself to cry.

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks when Mingyu approaches him on the floor, hands rushing to wipe his tears yet they keep on coming. “I’m sorry I…I don’t know how to stop. The lady hates tears and yet—”

“You did well.”

Sunoo shakes his head. “I still showed her my tears. I..I-I’m not supposed to—”

“Boss was born in an environment that forced her to block all her emotions out. Her own father was a manipulating man who is incompetent of feeling. You are seven.” He places a hand on Sunoo’s shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze. “Boss built you a place under her rule so that children like you do not have to live the life she led. She will forgive you if you cry.”

And so he does.

He cries. 

This time without hands pushing the tears away, this time with snot and hiccups and sounds. And as Mingyu watches the little kid who was forced to hold a weight upon those shoulders, he wishes he could see the same with you.

Crying.

And not succumbing to the silence.

.

.

.

“Should you be walking on your feet so casually like that?”

One question still remains. One question that has you questioning everything else.

Why the hell does Namjoon seem so cool about everything?

I mean you didn’t provoke him any further and made jabs at him but why are the two of you okay enough to send letters to each other regarding the Viper situation? Isn’t he supposed to be mad at you for Jungwon? And the fact that you got Yoongi hurt to the point of him only being able to see through one eye now? Namjoon’s protective when it comes to his loved ones getting hurt so why aren’t you being yelled at? And why was he cool enough to send you to their private hospital and even had doctors on standby? You didn’t use them but that’s beside the point.

Is it because you were on the verge of death? But Namjoon never cared about that when it came to his enemies.

You look over at Yoongi not so discreetly, a tilt in your head, confusion plastered on your face, and in his own confusion as to why you turned to him in the first place, he simply gives you no response.

So you turn back to Namjoon, shrugging at his question. “It’s been over a month, I wouldn’t let just anyone take me down like that.”

He hums, agreeing, and you take another look at Yoongi who doesn’t avoid eye contact. The last time you saw him he was all bloody, blood dripping past the wet cloth you placed over his eye. The last time was when you were in that alleyway, telling him to not let anyone touch you.

He kept his promise, according to Mingyu, and perhaps that was his showing of apology for what he’d done to you all those years ago. You wouldn’t deem Yoongi as someone to have ignored the little trust you had put in him.

“I have a question, Kim Namjoon.” You turn to the man in charge. “Did what happened the last time we met each other fly past your head? Because it awfully feels as if it’s not affecting you one bit. Unless this is all just a ploy to lure me in and kill me afterwards.”

He raises a brow. “You think I like playing things out in the long run?”

Right. When it comes to Namjoon, whatever he wants, whoever he wants dead, they usually die within a week of his declaration. He doesn’t do the waiting game.

“Then why am I still alive?” You ask so casually it’s as if you were speaking of the weather. “Are you a fool?”

“I’m not a fool, Y/N, and that’s precisely why I will not kill you, whether you try to force my hands or not.” He gives you a pointed stare and you look away, arms crossing over your chest. Namjoon continues under your silence. “Did you know that in a moment of weakness, you let your mask fall? Did you really think I’d continue believing you so easily? After that act you played and went into madness?”

You ball your hand into a fist, ready to cut back. “I—”

“You didn’t kill Jungwon, but you know exactly who did it.” Those eyes of his, when you look at them, dares for you to refute the claim he just made and it brings a shiver down your spine. He’s never been one to play around, rarely cracks jokes, is always aloof, and has that resting glare on his face. Perhaps you shouldn’t have chanted those words so much you brought yourself into madness.

It was your fault your mask fell.

“And until you’re willing to tell me, I won’t accept your deal in wanting to cut Bangtan off your allied forces.”

You frown at his proposition, confused. “Wha—”

“You need me, Y/N,” he cuts you off, getting straight to the point and you sit there, simply staring with a dumbfounded expression. “I have more power and influence than the Reapers do. I have ways to get dirt over anyone and I have connections. That’s why you approached me in the first place; because you needed to use my power. I will continue to give you that. I’ll allow you to use me. And when you’re done using me, you can throw me out after giving me the truth to who killed Jungwon.”

Seokjin, who had stood beside Yoongi this whole time, slides a paper over to you and when you look at it, you realize it’s a contract. A new one.

You only have to glance at it for a brief moment to understand the words that are written there. “You’re giving me quite the advantage, Namjoon.”

Total control to be able to use him whenever, as long as you’re able to provide him information on his brother’s death once you are done with him. In translation: he was allowing you to treat him as a pawn.

“You know all I want is the truth about my brother, and you’re the only one who can provide me with that.”

The last person to have seen Kim Jungwon. The only person besides Namjoon to have been close to him.

You raise a brow his way, suspicious. “All for some information, you’re willing to become my pawn.”

“You believed I had treated you as such all those years ago, would it not be fair?”

He doesn’t say it straight out but you know just what he’s trying to imply. You were once a pawn in the chess game he played with your father, used as a leverage, and free to ask anything of you. And being the sort of person that you were all those years ago, you could never say no to what Namjoon asked of you. Three years passed, he grew tired of you, and discarded you to be eaten up by the enemy.

This is, in unspoken words, his apology.

You take the pen from the table to scribble out your signature before standing up to walk out without another word.

Though you pause right before you can open the door, turn a step around to address Yoongi, giving him a small bow. “Thank you.” And walk out.

Yoongi’s way of apology meant a lot more. You don’t want some discreet way of apology, you don’t want to play fire with fire even though that had been your intention from the very beginning. But even then, it was never your intention to take revenge back on Namjoon just to use him as a pawn.

It’s not what you want.

You want him begging on his knees the way you had done. You want him begging you for forgiveness and actually mean it.

You can accept Yoongi’s apology. You won’t forgive him yet but you can accept it. He stepped up when you were on the verge of death, stood in front of a blade, and had his own eye blinded. He then picked both you and Sunoo up in his arms and took revenge back on the Vipers, successfully killing them off in one go. And with the little trust you gave him in your moment of weakness, he kept his word and warded off anyone that tried to get close to you.

The Reapers were contacted, rushed to your side, and took care of you.

In the beginning, Yoongi was just a victim who had to fall prey into making a decision he hadn’t wanted to make.

Kim Namjoon’s taking a step but he’s still lightyears away from forgiveness.

Feelings cannot be forced, feelings are something you will not blame him for, but because he lied to you and betrayed your trust, you know you won’t let him off easily.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the pawns

— summary: when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: none

— PART 22 / previous post / masterpost

“Why did she call you buttercup?”

“Buttercups reminded her of me,” you answer Yoongi as take your steps into Bangtan’s manor for the first time in weeks. “Bright and yellow, pretty little thing.” You pause. “And a weed in her path.”

“She was never on your list?”

“Nari had always been insignificant,” you say with arms crossing over your chest, wanting to leave it at that. 

But Yoongi isn’t satisfied with the short answer. “You never told me how the two of you got involved.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “the Vipers were our ally so inevitably, we met. I caught her attention with my face and she grew intrigued and envious.” He told you his history so you might as well entertain him with yours. Just a little though. Only a little. “I’m sure you know it better than I, your little sister—”

“She’s not my sister.” He’s quick to cut you off, stern and firm. Yoongi isn’t someone who cares too much about the things that leave people’s lips. He lets them yap off as much as they’d like, so when he does ever speak up on things, you know just how serious he is.

So you nod, sending him a tight smile. “Right, right. That little celery,” you correct yourself, “she can get a bit crazy when she doesn’t get something she likes, or when the attention is shifted away from her.”

“She’s never had her attention shifted away in the times I lived in that manor,” Yoongi says and you give him a blank look.

Small little Yoongi, probably just the same as you who never received attention and love and was just seen as nothing more than an heir who was meant to fulfill his role. On the other hand, you never saw your father loving another, or even having the ability to love at all. There’s a bit of comfort knowing your father was incapable of feeling, so he had no one to show it to and you had no one to grow envious of, even though it did take you a while to get smart about understanding him. Yoongi on the other hand had to grow up seeing his father show his affection to someone else. 

He got out quicker than you though, and fled the scene before things could go downhill.

You came to a realization too late. It was your body that had to force you to “wake up.”

“So imagine what it was like when that moment finally came to her.” Up the stairs and to the right. It’s a bit funny you’re getting used to navigating through this manor like it’s your own. Once upon a time, it was yours. “The spotlight switching from her to me gave her quite the scare.”

Yoongi opens the door to Namjoon’s office and you walk in casually.

“I met her before I met you,” you say and he gives a moment of pause before following you right in when you take your designated seat, the same seat you’ve always taken whenever you walk into this room.

Namjoon’s already sitting across from you, taking a sip of coffee from his cup with Seokjin stood to his side as his second in command. Yoongi takes his position on his leader’s other side while Mingyu stays to your right.

“Do you know Alexander Larsen?” You start without hesitation, leaning back into your seat and trying to make yourself comfortable.

In truth, you will never get comfortable.

“Alexander Larsen?” Seokjin raises a brow at your question. “You don’t mean from the Norwegian mafia, do you? You’re not talking about the Kingsmen, are you?”

“So you do know of him.” You cross a leg over the other, feeling satisfied.

“You want to go after an old man?”

“It’s not the grandpa I want to go after, it’s his son.”

“Karl Larsen?” He shares a brief glance with Namjoon, expression marked with hesitation. “That’s a bit…”

You ignore his trailing comment to continue your point toward Namjoon. “I’d like to get close to gramps and I know you have connections to do so.”

“He’s a don, Y/N. A Godfather. A Norwegian Godfather,” he stresses. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Right from your proposal, he’s already denying his offer to help but you’re not about to back down. 

“You told me I could use you as my pawn,” you remind him of the contract the two of you made a few weeks ago. “You aren’t supposed to ask me questions and force me back on my plans just because a certain man I want to go after happens to have a Godfather as his father. If I get close to Alexander, my plot against his son would be much easier.”

“It isn’t easy getting close to Alexander,” you hear a different voice coming in through the door but you don’t have to look to know that it’s Hoseok. “Going after a Godfather is the equivalent of signing off your death certificate.”

“Not to mention Alexander is linked to the Italian mafia and you know how dangerous they are.” You roll your eyes when Jimin follows along.

It feels like being scolded all over again.

“Why’re you leaving the scope of Korea?” Taehyung asks.

“Are you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?”

“I said no questions,” you point directly at Jungkook who in turn ignores it by looking away, and return to the boss who sits at the center of them all. “If you’re scared, you can just say that.”

Namjoon frowns at your words, shaking his head subtly. “I can get anyone for you, Y/N, but I don’t want you messing around with foreign mafiosos.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re trying to walk into a battlefield.”

“The whole world has been a battlefield, Namjoon, and just because this particular boss is tougher than other soldiers out there doesn’t mean it’s enough to have me back down. I’m not backing down. I want Karl Larsen dead.”

“It’s dangerous territory.” Still, he denies you the help.

You let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s what you said the last time I proposed leaving Korea.”

“Yeah, and remind me what happened last time?”

Hwang Leehyun.

A living nightmare.

You cross your arms across your chest when he hits you with that, their eyes piercing without any hints of backing down and you suddenly have this urge to punch someone in the face. It feels like being in the eyes of your father all over again, being told you cannot do this or that, that you must do that and this. Like a child who does not, who can not, make her own decisions without the permission from her parents.

“Why do you even care whether I make it out okay or not?” So you snap with a click of your tongue, anger fueling. “This is my mission and my plot against the person I want dead.” You turn to Hoseok. “I’ve already told you I don’t care what happens to me down this path I’m walking on. If life decides it’s done with me, then so be it.”

If I die, I die, you told him once and Hoseok, frustrated in his own sense, turns to your right hand man instead of facing you.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?”

When all eyes fall on him, Mingyu has to take a moment to spare you a glance. You, who shoots a glare at Hoseok for even thinking of looking to him rather than addressing you. And knowing just how you feel, your commander answers in a calm tone.

“Whatever the boss wants, I provide and clear the path to let her get through. It is not my duty to stop her, therefore I hold no protest.”

Hm. Good answer.

“Just what are you feeding your Reapers?” When Hoseok turns back to you, you send him a cheeky grin.

“Loyalty. They’ll always take my side no matter what wrongs I’ve committed.” You look at the rest of them. “You should know about that.” And a bit of awkwardness they clearly don’t enjoy too well walks in, but you decide to ignore the effect those words had on them. “Mingyu knows his place and he knows what his title entails. It’s not his job to stop me. He’s here to clear the path for me and back me up, all the while doing what he can to get me back on my feet if things start going downhill and provide protection.” You give a little pause before adding. “You should learn from him.”

“The last time we let you do what you wanted, you ended up hurt.”

You frown at Seokjin when he says that, eyes avoiding his because you know just what he’s trying to imply. That moment of weakness you had turning to him. Why did you make that mistake?

You were just desperate to find a safe haven after what Leehyun did.

“The only thing with Karl is that he’ll get out my angry side, that’s all,” you say, resting back into the seat you’re in. “The situation won’t be the same. He wasn’t a creep, just some asshole psychopath who should have minded his own business.”

You and your stubborn streak. Namjoon knows you don’t have it in you to let your plans fall to a pause just because someone declines the help you’re seeking for. So he lets out a sigh, fingers pressing into his temples. “Like Hoseok said, getting a Godfather involved in your plans is the equivalent of choosing death.”

It doesn’t matter what sort of thing Karl has done to you to earn your anger. He’s still a son of a powerful man.

“I know,” still you say with acknowledgment, unwilling to back down. “But there will always be risks when it comes to going after people, and in this case, I’m walking a fine line between life and death, but as long as I can prove my worth and show Alexander that I’m a better pawn than his son, I have a higher chance returning here safe and sound. And besides,” you intertwine your fingers into one another and have your hands sit on your lap, “when it comes down to it, you’re all great at getting out of a sticky situation. If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can rely on my pawn’s protection. You’re not trying to go back on your words again, now are you, Kim Namjoon?”

A promise is a promise.

A vow is a vow.

The Reapers have learned to master it and have proven again and again that their pledge to you is something that is unshakable. 

Namjoon asked you to collapse into him. They vowed to never let you fall.

And yet here you are now, a shattered mess of glass.

It looks like your choice of words gets to him because Namjoon’s shifting in his seat, uncomfortable, but he has no reason to say no to you now, not after you’ve brought the contract he wrote back into his face. And the past that left you scarred.

“.....I know someone who might be able to get you in contact with Alexander,” he finally says, “but it will be up to you to figure out how to get him on your side.”

The corner of your lips curls upward. “That’s all I need.”

And before the conversation can move on, Mingyu bends down to your side, whispering something into your ear. “They need you at The Academy.”

You give him a nod and uncross your legs to begin standing again. “Let’s pick up this conversation another time, yeah? You should prepare for my absence for at least a month or more. It won’t be easy getting close to a Godfather, after all.”

And with that, you walk off with Mingyu tailing along, leaving the seven of them still unsure about all of this.

.

.

.

“Sunoo refuses to sleep, my lady. I used to wake up to him trashing in his sleep and having to force him to wake up and ask him what was wrong but he never tells me anything. Now, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I just see Sunoo on his bed, wide awake. The teachers and I have tried to help but…nothing’s helping him.” 

Jungho stands with his head lowered as he fiddles around with his fingers, those little shoulders of his trembling slightly, and when you look at the headmaster for confirmation, she simply nods.

“So you asked the headmaster to call for me, yes?” The little boy nods at your question. “And why is that, Jungho? Why do you believe I can be of help?”

“I-I don’t know, my lady,” he answers truthfully, “but…Sunoo is my best friend and…and I want to help him get better so I thought…I thought that you would have a higher chance at helping than I.”

“You believe that I, someone who doesn’t know him quite as nearly as you do, who has spent years growing up with him, can be of better assistance?”

Jungho nods again. “Because..”

“Because?”

“When he did sleep…Sunoo used to call for your name.”

A droplet falls onto the floor where his feet stands, then another is quick to follow along, but Jungho keeps his head buried against his chest so that all you can see is the back of his hair. So you give Mingyu a look and he nods in return, turning to the child with a hand on his shoulder to lead him away while you head for the dorm the two of them have been assigned to.

Sunoo sits with a blank stare when you enter the room and shut the door behind you. Under the little boy’s eyes are dark bags that shouldn’t be there. He looks worse than the last time you saw him, a little daintier, not quite as skinny as he used to be when he worked under Ying but he might as well be getting back to that stage.

To that little child who was all skin and bones, his clothes too baggy for him when he’d look up at you determined and unwilling to give up hope.

He’s grown since then, putting on some meat, cheeks less hollowed, and a little more life in his physique, but that little spark of hope he had in him is dim. He hasn’t even realized you’ve walked in and Sunoo is someone who’s been taught to stay on high alert due to the fear instilled in him.

You’ve been trying to heal these children but just what are you doing if he’s still like this?

“Sunoo.”

When you call his name, he looks up with a slow reaction, though his eyes widen at the sight of you as expected. “My lady?” His voice is small and when he goes to shuffle from his bed to reach the floor, his legs give in underneath him when he tries to get to you.

You grab ahold of him before he can hurt his knees, picking him up effortlessly and setting him back onto the bed. He sits there with wide eyes searching for something, little fingers gripping onto the sleeve of your shirt a little too tight it turns white.

There is fear in his eyes, you realize. 

The fear you never got to see when he hid them in that room the two of you were in because he wanted to be brave, because he wanted to uphold the promise he gave unto you.

A child shouldn’t have gone through that.

“When was the last time you’d eaten?” You ask him, knowing that asking him if he’s eaten at all is dumb because it’s clear he hasn’t eaten in a while. You take the hands that balled onto you, placing them onto one another in his lap but knowing not to let it go. It probably gives him comfort knowing he can physically touch you.

“I…” His voice shakes so he’s quick to shut himself up with his teeth biting onto his lower lip. It quivers so he lowers his head and you give him the privacy by standing from the floor to sit beside him on the bed instead.

He keeps himself as silent as he can, and you watch the way he struggles, the way those little shoulders tremble in the way Jungho had and the way you remember the rest of them did when you rescued them that night. 

Hiding. Hiding.

All for you.

You feel some sort of hatred boiling within you because you know that all this hiding is for you and you hate yourself for doing this to them.

“Do you know something, Sunoo?” You let one hand remain holding his while the other reaches behind to rub along his back. “There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying.”

He remains quiet but there’s a little jostle in his body when you say that. As if he’s surprised, as if he can’t believe you’d just said that.

“Do you believe crying is a sign of weakness?” You ask him and he gives you a small, honest nod. “Why do you believe that, Sunoo?”

“Because you hate it.”

Of course the reason comes back down to you. You’ve instilled something in them your father instilled in you. That crying is weak, that loving is dumb, that emotions must never be revealed to another because no one will care for you if you fail at these three tasks.

You’re becoming your father.

You want to punch the wall, kick something, anything, shoot a bullet into someone’s head, bring out a knife, and stab it into something. Anything.

But you know not to, not before a child, so rather than wanting to take out your anger onto something, you let yourself seek peace in the child.

You cup Sunoo’s face and force him to turn your way so that he cannot hide, so that you can allow yourself to see the tears that splash onto those eyes of his, and when they fall out from the corners of his eyes and you see the way he watches with surprise and redness in his pupils and on his cheeks and nose and lips, you press your forehead against his, forcing him to stop running away.

“There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying,” you repeat your words to him once again because it’s hard. It’s hard trying to find any other words to comfort him because you’re bad at it, because you don’t know how to do it without giving a part of yourself to him. “You are seven, Sunoo. You are supposed to cry when something hurts you.”

“...” You see the way his lips quiver rapidly before he allows more tears to form along his waterline and inevitably fall.

“Do not bite your lips, you will hurt yourself.” He tries to remain silent but you refuse to let him, swiping a finger to let him loosen up, and with your permission, Sunoo cries as a child should.

He voices his frustrations, lets out the screams he’s been holding in, and cries as loud as he can while you hold him in your arms, covering his head into your chest so that he can still feel your presence and know that you aren’t going anywhere. That you’re accepting him. That he doesn’t need to hide from you.

Have you ever cried like this?

So loud and broken?

You did once. So many times. So many years ago.

When you were scared and frightened. When you had Mister Butler there to hold onto you when you needed to let the tears out.

“Do not bite your lips, you will bleed.”

He was the one who taught you that it was okay to let it all out when you cried, that it was okay to be loud, that you didn’t have to fear anyone hearing you.

It feels like a distant dream more than anything, however, because ever since the first few days of being sent to the White Room after Mister Butler died, you had let the fear return to haunt you once again. The fear of being loud. Succumbing to the silence.

Fearing the noise.

“You were gone, my lady.” Sunoo’s voice allows you to return to reality. “You were..you were dead, my lady.”

“...Was I?”

“I dreamt it,” his voice croaks. “She killed you.” So those were the nightmares that feared him into refusing to sleep when he needed it. He dreamt of your death, of him being unable to get you out of that situation.

You admit if it weren’t for Yoongi, Nari would have most definitely snapped and actually ended you right then and there. Yoongi saved your life and lost an eye as a result.

“I’m right here, Sunoo. I’m still alive.” You make sure he knows when you squeeze over his body a little tighter.

Sunoo leans in closer, nuzzling into your embrace.

“I-I know but…but the sun will set again and you’ll leave and…and what if that gentleman hadn’t been there with us? You would have…you could have…”

A sun setting.

The darkness.

The dreaded darkness.

You know just how Sunoo feels because you still fear the darkness. You still hate it when the sun sets because it means absolute darkness until the sun decides to rise again hours later. Hours that feel like days and weeks and months and years. Hours that seem to tick like the seconds are running a year too late. Hours that have you staring straight at the ticking clock, begging it to go faster and faster but it never seems to go as you ask.

That’s why all the clocks in the manor have been either destroyed or thrown away.

Living with your father still alive, you were unable to do things your way but ever since his death, you’ve reorganized lots and lots of things to accommodate your wants and needs.

The clocks are all gone.

“Do you want to come to Norway with me?”

Sunoo looks up suddenly at the suggestion, his brows furrowed with disbelief and for a second you want to take it back because you know it’s a bad idea. You’re there to kill someone after all, to exact your revenge, and having Sunoo in that environment won’t be good.

But this child needs you and he needs the light.

“Northern Norway is a country where the sun does not set during summertime, so you do not have to fear for the darkness.” Once upon a time, you spoke of a wish to visit the Land of the Midnight Sun. Norway. It’s funny the way things are piecing together, funny how no matter how much you want to run away from your past, it always seems to catch up to you. “Jungho will come as well, so you do not have to be alone and so he does not have to sleep here by himself.”

“And the others?” He always thinks of the others. Sunoo is a big brother to all the kids and he keeps strong for them so you know he must be worrying about them feeling left out but this is a foreign country you’re visiting to exact revenge. The less kids, the better.

“They will have to stay. Norway will be dangerous, Sunoo,” you tell him half the truth, not wanting to be too transparent but knowing that letting him believe this will be nothing but a vacation and letting him stay naive will not be good for him.

Kids have to know. The more aware they are, the better prepared they will be.

“But maybe in the future, I can allow for field trips in The Academy.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit brighter at the thought.

“Only if I can get stronger,” you tell him. “Though that may or may not happen and if it does, it will be in the far future.”

“Why do you say that, my lady?”

You wipe the tears from his face when he appears to be calming down. “Because there are still a lot of people who underestimate me or see me as a threat and wish to do something about it.”

“Like that lady?”

“Like that lady.” You take the tissue box from his nightstand to hand it to him and watch as he goes on to blow his nose. “So until people learn not to mess around with me, until my name alone brings fear to them, you’ll have to wait to be allowed to do whatever you want.”

“..Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” You press a hand to his head, smoothing his hair down. “You won’t have to confine yourself in this school anymore. All of you will be allowed to go anywhere you want, whenever you want. No one will be able to mess with you and you won’t have to fear for your safety. Though that comes with learning how to properly defend yourselves. You will do that for me, won’t you?”

Sunoo is quick to nod happily. “I’ll learn to protect myself and I’ll learn to protect my brothers and sisters. And you too, my lady.”

“That’s right. So until then, be a little more patient, alright?”

.

.

.

“You…please tell me you’re joking. You’re bringing children to Norway?” It’s comical the way Seokjin runs his hand down his face as he tries to fathom what you’ve just told him. He looks more stressed than he’s ever been before. “Namjoon’s not going to agree to that.”

“Why does Namjoon’s opinion matter?”

“You never mentioned bringing children to the mission was going to be part of the plan!”

“They aren’t. I’ll just need an extremely safe house where it’ll be hard for anyone to locate to ensure their safety.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you want to laugh a little because despite the fact that Seokjin appears to always look calm and collected, he tends to lose his cool easily. He doesn’t get upset but he stresses a good amount. “Why’re you bringing them along in the place?” He asks and you look away.

“I’m not obligated to tell you.”

He grows more agitated. “Don’t tell me you’re going to exploit them into helping you with getting close to Alexander?”

“You think I’m that shallow?” You give him a deadpan expression. “They’re not in any part of the plan. Just think of it as them leaving for a field trip.”

He rests a hand on his temples, takes a moment to breathe as he takes a small lap around a small invisible circle before speaking again. Level headed. “Field trip. Right. As if you aren’t going out there signing your life away to Alexander Larsen!”

Not so level-headed.

He’s losing his cool and you grin at how he tries so hard to keep calm but eventually gives in. “If you’re that worried, why don’t you tag along? Come before the rest of you come when it’s time to take action.”

“I can’t,” Seokjin grunts as he runs a hand through his hair. “Hoseok and Jungkook are already assigned to go with you and I have to stay by Namjoon’s side. He’s a wreck without me.”

“Of course he is.”

He glares your way before continuing. “He’s not going to allow you to take the kids.”

“Come on, Kim Seokjin. You’re the Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon’s right hand man, the only one who can get through to him when his stubborn ass refuses to let anyone talk him down from his decisions.” You give him a small poke on his arm, teasing a bit, and Seokjin takes note of the way you feel a little comfortable touching him even in the slightest bit. “I’m sure you can cool him down once he receives news that I’m bringing Sunoo and Jungho along.”

“Cool him down?” Not even convince him to agree but to cool him down. Meaning you aren’t backing from your decision, and Seokjin close his eyes as he takes in another deep breath, praying to God to allow him to keep his patience because he knows he’s stuck dealing with two stubborn people where one does whatever she wants and the other is easy to rile up when the right buttons are pushed.

And you know just the right buttons to push.

“Good luck buddy, I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, you salute him a goodbye and walk off with a grin plastered on your face.

.

.

.

“Y/N?”

The man Namjoon sets you up to meet in Norway is tall in the figure, with blonde hair combed neatly back, and a black suit to match with piercing green eyes that you’re sure to have probably earned many women in his life to swoon.

He’s quite a looker; handsome and tall and carries an aura of authority.

“Asher Larsen.” You say his name in perfect English and extend a hand out to shake it just briefly.

He takes a seat across from you, brows a bit furrowed, jaws set tight. “I can get you in to meet my grandfather but whatever it is you wish to do is none of my business. That will be the farthest I will do for you.”

“Of course. That’s all I need.”

Asher Larsen, grandson of Alexander Larsen, Karl’s nephew, and an intelligent man amongst the Kingsmen. You aren’t sure what Namjoon’s told him about you or the mission in general but he seems like the type who’ll only care about something that he’s actually interested in. And clearly, whatever you’re doing here, he has no intention of getting involved. He’s probably witnessed a few similar scenes before so he can probably guess what it is you’re after, which makes your job a lot easier.

In London, Taehyung was assigned to stay with you during the majority of your plot. Norway, as Seokjin said, Hoseok and Jungkook are here by your side, but unlike London, you won’t have someone here on your side to give you much aid in the way you had Hyunjin.

Asher is only here to be a bridge. Nothing more, nothing less.

He takes you to a private party that night where you walk in by his side as his guest, and for some odd reason, things already begin to spiral as a commotion is heard not long after your arrival.

“Do you often have your security breached like this?” You turn to Asher who gives you a quizzical expression.

“You mean this wasn’t you?”

“To try and grab your grandfather’s attention?” You laugh a little. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? If it was me behind this, it’d only want him to make an enemy out of me, and that’s not what I’m after.”

No one’s by your side tonight, it’s a private party after all, and though you’re sure your Reapers, along with Hoseok and Jungkook, aren’t too far away for you to leave and make an escape before something goes wrong, somehow you don’t feel the need to run away even when the chandelier from the ceiling falls and shatters glass all over the floor.

“How interesting,” is what you utter when the bright lights of the party fall dim and all that’s left is the light of the dawn sky from above the small, circular glass ceiling.

“Do you care one bit about your safety?” Asher questions you when he sees every other guest making an escape while you remain standing where you’ve been the whole time. He doesn’t look like he’s in a state of panic, and you guess he’s probably used to these things. Who wouldn’t be when you’re born into this business?

“Of course I do, but—”

“You should leave before something goes wrong.” He takes your wrist and pushes you towards the emergency exit, but you just can’t seem to run.

“Asher.” You look around, eyes sharp and quick. “Where’s your grandfather?”

Asher looks exasperated with you. “When things like this happen, my grandfather’s the first to escape. Now—”

“Something’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“The party started an hour before we arrived, right? So why was it that the second we walked in, they decided to stop it then? Why when you arrived?” You look towards the entrance door that’s now closed and blocked off, the chandelier that fell at the center of the grand room, just a few feet away from where the two of you were standing.

Luckily no one seems to be on the verge of death and there are people helping some guests leave from a side door, but besides that, there doesn’t seem to be any present physical threat in this room. One might believe they’re not here because Alexander isn’t here but still, you feel an odd sense of something.

You turn back to Asher just as he’s trying to calculate what you just said. “Tell me, Asher, are you someone your grandfather favors?”

“My grandfather doesn’t have favorites.”

“But you are intelligent and a great asset to the Kingsmen.” Just as you said that, you catch sight of a man who had been pretending to help an injured man point a gun towards Asher, who has his back turned to him, and in seconds, you’re rushing to Asher, take hold of the gun he held on the back of his belt, and pierce a bullet straight into the man’s forehead.

Asher turns around, stunned, and you take another man out on the second story of this room.

“You don’t have an extra gun or something, do you? Because we were told not to bring guns to this party.” You flash him an awkward grin but the man only shakes his head.

Well. At least you’re prepared.

Throwing him back his gun, to which he easily catches to eliminate more men, you take your two hairpins that had been holding your hair up this whole time, and use it as your weapon, stabbing along the masked men who have been bold enough to operate on this mission tonight.

Asher and you are an unstoppable force, it’s almost a bit thrilling having the chance to get back into action and overpowering the enemies as if they were simple ants pestering and getting in your way. You forgot how fun this can be after being held up in bed for almost two months, unable to move properly.

Something catches your attention when a lady dressed in a black and white suit stumbles onto her feet with something in her hand, a puppy, and just behind her a long pillar lies, on the verge of tipping over.

No longer watching Asher’s back, you rush over to the scene to pick the running puppy into your arm and grab the woman with your other hand, successfully rescuing them just as the huge cement falls and crashes onto the floor, alerting everyone’s attention.

You simply stare at the dog in your arm. “Behave, will you? Don’t run into danger, that pretty lady was only trying to help.”

It barks and you feel guns pointed straight at you. 

The room falls silent, nothing is heard, and you can’t put a finger on why it is that you’re now the target and they’re ignoring Asher.

Is it the puppy? Is the puppy’s life far more valuable than Asher’s?

“Y/N!” You hear Asher’s call and keeping a firm grip on the puppy, rush to dodge the bullets that fly your way with Asher’s help in shooting down a few of them.

Your body twists and turns, flipping and jumping, doing all it can so that the bullets can only breeze past your skin and not pierce through it, all the while you use your hairpin to stab nearby opponents down with a dog in your hand.

The last of them die against the piercing of your hairpin against their neck, and while you feel eyes on you from the people who were hidden away to hide from the fight, you retrieve the two silver accessories from the enemy’s bodies, wiping their blood on the cloth of your dress, before fixing them back easily into your hair.

The dog licks your face unexpectedly, jerking you from it, and you fall completely silent and stunned at what it had just done.

“Boy, what are you doing to me? You can’t just lick someone like that, even if that is in your nature,” you say, face contoured with disgust as you bring him into your hands and extend your arms out so that he’s unable to continue licking you.

He barks with complaint, and there’s a small snicker that you hear from across the room.

When you turn to look, you’re greeted unexpectedly by the very man you came to meet tonight, standing beside Asher with a few guards next to him.

The little dog twists out of your hand and jumps back onto the floor, rushing over to Alexander who easily picks him up.

Ah. So it was his dog. Now it makes sense why the enemies were after me. The dog’s special to him.

“Are you not used to that?” The old man asks when you pat your hand down onto your dress. His English has a bit of an accent, not too distinct, but he’s not as fluent as Asher is.

“Suddenly getting licked in the face? No sir, I have not.”

“He likes you.” The men beside him move to take the enemies away at Alexander’s head signal, and you watch the way the old man pets the little puppy on the head. “Kiwi doesn’t like just anyone.” Kiwi. “They say dogs are better at judging people than humans.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “...Do they now?”

“Come.”

He turns, with the dog in hand, and you blink.

“Huh?”

But he ignores you to give an order to the lady you reduced under the pillar. “Have a room ready for the lady and send people to tend to her.”

“Pardon me sir, but I can take care of myself. I have a place nearby—”

“My place is closer,” he says, and with that, he’s walking off without letting you have another word in, leaving you to simply stand there with a dumbfounded expression.

When you look at Asher who’s still here, he sends you a shrug, along with a small, amused smile curling along his lips. He looks impressed and he probably is, because you’ve just gotten your chance at speaking to Alexander Larsen without approaching him first.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the unprepared

— summary: no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: slight ptsd trigger

— PART 23 / previous post / masterpost

“Would you be able to send this letter to the address written on it? Personally?”

The girl you saved is named Ester, and without fail, people whose lives have been saved often feel indebted to their savior, so you know it would be right to have a little faith in her when you give her this task.

And as expected, she’s nodding without question and goes on her merry way.

It was the first thing you asked of her after all, because when you told her you had no need for the help she wanted to offer you with the injuries you sustained at the party along with wanting to help you feel comfortable in Alexander’s mansion, you could tell she was immediately angsty and in need of wanting to do anything you asked of her.

Nice girls like her often get taken advantage of.

Well, that’s none of your problem.

You take care of yourself with the treatment Ester provided for you, treating the cuts from where the bullets managed to wheeze past you, and bandaging yourself up before leaving the room provided for you.

Little Kiwi comes barking at your feet before you even reach the grand living room and despite not one to give or show affection, you pick the little thing up albeit reluctantly.

“Kid, isn’t it about time you head to sleep? And don’t lick me again, please, that’s quite rude.”

You hear a gentle chuckle from a familiar deep voice and finally walk into the living room to find both Alexander and Asher already there.

“Dogs don’t necessarily understand rudeness, though he listens to you quite well,” Alexander notes at the obedient puppy in your arms. He doesn’t wiggle around or bark and remains nestled where you hold him. When you take your seat on the sofa with a small space between you and Asher, the old man speaks again. “I heard you refused treatment from my people.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Forgive me, I’m not used to foreign touches.”

He knows you don’t mean “foreigners” per se and narrows his gaze slightly, possibly out of curiosity. “You have quite the skills, young lady, for having an unknown name.”

“My name is Y/N,” you tell him, sitting up. “I am a Reaper, the Grim Reaper of South Korea. My father passed away about a year ago, he was a good friend of your son Karl.”

“Karl.” He rubs his chin thinking about it. “So why have you come to Norway? To meet up with Karl?”

“Karl and I have never been that close, sir.” Of course not, you hate that man. Seeing his face alone will make you want to punch him but you know better than that. So keeping yourself calm, you look away to the side where the windows are, covered by pretty rose gold curtains. “I came here because I quite like the way the sun never sets during this time. It brings me peace.”

“You’re on vacation?” He raises a brow, doubtful, and looks toward Asher for confirmation but the man just shrugs without giving him an answer.

“You could say that,” you reply, and the old man clears his throat.

“It takes someone special to dodge all those bullets without managing any fatal injuries,” he returns to the topic of the matter as he leans back into his seat, an ankle propped onto a knee. “My son never mentioned someone like you, or his good friend.”

“The skills I acquired were not from my father, sir.”

“So you had a different master?”

“I was trained by a Yakuza master. He goes by the name Kitagawa Daisuke.”

Kitagawa Daisuke. Anyone who lives in the darkness knows the name. It’s almost like saying Shakespeare and an immediate ding pops into one's head. Your master is that famous in the underground world.

“No wonder..” Alexander looks at you with fascination now, a small crooked smile curling along his lips, eyes brightening. He knows not just anyone can call themself a disciple of Kitagawa Daisuke and it just further proves a point as to how dangerous the mission will be when you finally go up against your master. That is, if time will allow it. Who knows if you’ll even survive this mission.

You’re just dancing around with death at this point and he’s leading the moves.

“Now that you mention it, you have a sort of aura that you exude in the way I’ve seen with Master Kita. You live up to his name, no disciple of his would have let the enemies’ move confuse her.”

He must be talking about how you managed to recognize the motives of the enemies when you realize the focus was not on Alexander himself but his grandson, Asher Larsen. 

You give the man a small glance before looking down at the puppy who’s now slowly dozing off in your lap. You give him a small scratch behind the ear, doting on him a bit. Who would have thought even the enemies knew the life of a dog mattered more to Alexander than his own grandson.

So Asher was right when he said Alexander doesn’t have favorites, which means that if someone does manage to gain his favor, it wouldn’t just be in your favor but you’d have more eyes on your back more than before.

Sounds like a headache.

But it’s the only way you can get rid of Karl. Because if you gain Alexander’s favor, it’ll mean he won’t blink an eye when you tell him you want his own son dead.

“Master told me to always keep my senses heightened no matter the situation.”

He hums at the answer and in a way, you hope this little attention you’ve gained from Alexander is enough to gain a bit of his favor. They say Alexander doesn’t like people who deliberately kiss up someone’s shoes to get to where they want. He’s probably had enough of those people. He also likes people who have a backbone and knows how to protect themselves.

“How would you like to be my new caretaker for Kiwi?” The proposal Alexander gives has your head perked up his way, feeling a bit dumbfounded and surprised, but he continues before you can reject or accept the offer. “You’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m sure Kiwi would love to continue seeing you until it’s time for you to return home.”

Perhaps he knows a bit of your plan. Perhaps he doesn’t. Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity to remain seen by his side.

“I know it may sound a lot asking a mafia boss but I quite like you, Miss Y/N.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” you shake your head lightly and look down at the now sleeping puppy in your lap before giving Alexander the answer. “I’d gladly accept.”

He smiles, satisfied, and when he leaves after taking the sleeping puppy from you, you’re left alone with Asher who had been silent the whole exchange between you and Alexander.

“I’m impressed, that was quite the feat. No one’s ever gotten this far this fast.” When you look at the man who’s finally speaking up, there’s a small curl up his lips when he looks your way, and you guess this man is usually stoic for the most part. How great you’re earning a bit of favor from both the grandfather and the grandson.

“I guess it’s just in my nature to have people join my side.” You give him a simple reply, one he does not refute, and the day ends with that.

You don’t get a wink of sleep at all staying there in that mansion and you know it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place. You’ve never been good at adapting to something new. It took some time for you to settle into the Bangtan manor when you first moved there years ago, but unlike how it was there and back at your own manor, Alexander’s mansion gives you some sort of comfort you’ve never had before.

It’s probably the fact that night never comes. Your room has windows placed at a good spot, where the sun seems to shine through even though there are clouds blocking part of it. It isn’t as bright as it was when you first arrived at the airport but when it still lights up the sky around three am, you’re grateful for being here, in Norway.

Norway is pretty in a way Korea has never been and being here, despite the mission you’re on, gives you a sense of peace and calmness Korea has never given you. It’s a foreign country and yet something about it, something about the sun not being allowed to set and give way to the stars and moon, to the darkness, you have the urge to stay here if you could. Forever if possible.

But peace can never truly stay forever as long as you live this life.

You have people to go after, a revenge plot you’re on. Maybe when everything is over, if you manage to survive in the end and meet your last victim without dying, maybe then you can return here.

But first comes earning Alexander’s favor.

“You’re going to be in charge of taking care of his dog?” Hoseok’s face is a bit comical when you relay them the news once morning comes and you arrive back at the place Namjoon has provided for you. “Just what do you know about taking care of dogs?”

“Not much,” you admit as you scroll through your phone in hopes of learning, “but Alexander’s given me a bit of trust so I might as well take the opportunity. Ah, speaking of,” you put your phone down for a second, looking between the two Bangtan men, “don’t the two of you have some experience in taking care of dogs? You’ll teach me, then.”

It’s a request that comes out of nowhere, especially after just dropping the bomb on them, but it’s not like there’s anything else they can really do.

Namjoon sent them here in support for you and despite the awkward air around each of you, you’re one to ignore all signs and pretend everything is and has always been alright.

“Well an important part of a dog’s routine is taking walks,” Jungkook speaks up after being quiet for a while. His brows are slightly furrowed, thinking. “Mr. Larsen has actually given you quite the task.”

He’s right.

Taking a dog out on walks means being out in the open air where enemy eyes are everywhere. If last night proves that Kiwi serves more purpose to Alexander than his own grandson — and the enemies know that — then being the dog sitter isn’t just any mere maid’s job.

They have to be smart, agile, quick, and strong because they’re looking after what equals an heir.

You’re basically Kiwi’s bodyguard.

“Maybe this is his way of testing me.” It has to be. He couldn’t just have trusted a random stranger to take care of something that clearly means a lot to him. Though that begs the question as to why.

Is it because you mentioned Kitagawa as your master? He’s quite well known after all, and well respected at that.

Still, something’s a little weird.

But if you’re trying to get close to the old man, you might as well take advantage of this while not forgetting to remain cautious.

No one can ever be trusted fully. There is always an ulterior motive behind one’s action.

“I have a question, sir.” When you return to the manor a little later that day, the first person you go to is Alexander, who easily allows you into his proximity just minutes after you asked for his time. You thought initially it’d be a while until you get your reply, after all, he’s a Godfather who’s probably busy with all sorts of things, which is why it’s surprising the reply came so soon and was received well.

His butler didn’t lead you to an office, rather, you found yourself walking into a pretty greenhouse that sort of reminds you of the one back at home.

It’s massive in size though, that’s a difference, but you can clearly tell it’s being taken care of well in the way your Reapers takes care of your greenhouse.

“One moment, Miss Y/N.”

Alexander has his back turned to you when you find him towards a corner, with a water can in hand as he personally feeds the plants the amount of water needed with a serene expression on his face.

Kiwi, who had followed you when you were led by the butler, walks over to respectfully nuzzle against his master’s foot.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The old man comments with a smile once he’s done watering the plants and places the can back in its place.

“It’s a surprise you’re able to keep them alive here,” you utter as you take another look around at the greens all around you. “I have one back in Korea, though my Reapers take care of them.”

Alexander takes a seat on a bench and Kiwi jumps over to lay on his lap. “Taking care of things personally brings me peace.”

“...Does it, now?” In a world where things are always chaotic, you suppose having somewhere to go to for peace is ideal. “I don’t have a greenhouse for personal taste though.”

“Do you grow poison?” He asks and there’s really no use lying.

“Amongst other things.”

He falls silent for a moment, a serene silence, and it’s strange the way he looks at you in a way no one’s ever done before. You’ve seen creepy old men before, met a couple of them personally against your will, but Alexander doesn’t remind you much of them. He stands out further, but in a way that isn’t bad at all and for some reason that brings you another sort of uncomfortable feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. 

It’s strange and foreign, and perhaps he understands the effect he’s made on you because he lets out a light chuckle.

“I used to be just like you, little one.”

Your brows furrow at his words, confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Always in a rush, never stopping to revel in the scenery.”

Because there’s no time for that. Time doesn’t wait for anyone and the enemies certainly don't. You’ve finally gained some sort of peace after your father’s death but even then, letting yourself go in order to be free from the chains isn’t exactly as easy as one may think.

You’re rushing because you want to reach peace, because you want a moment in time when things finally slows down and you’re okay with it, with the clocks existing, with the time ticking.

Peace doesn’t come to just anyone willingly.

“You’re anxious,” Alexander notes and perhaps you’re uncomfortable because he sees through a part of you that only people you allow in sees.

This is why you hate old people.

They can tell so easily because they’ve been through things.

“If I let time catch up on me, there will be nothing left in front of me.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asks, a hand running through Kiwi’s fur as the little dog begins to fall asleep. “What if what you want is already in front of you? Perhaps you just don’t want to face it because you’re afraid.”

Afraid?

Afraid of what?

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You’re running away.”

Yes.

This man certainly does make you uncomfortable.

Not like the creeps, not like Leehyun, but not like Mister Butler either. Though in a way, there’s something familiar that you sense in him in the way you’ve felt with Mister Butler. As if he has a window to see through your soul.

But you’re sure not all old people know everything. They can only guess from what they’ve been given and seen.

You decide to keep your guard up.

“The question you wanted to ask,” perhaps he felt you trying to run from him so he changes the subject, “What was it?”

Right.

“When I take Kiwi out on walks, I’m sure you realize there may be people out there who will take advantage of those times. I don’t know the streets well and I don’t know who means well and who wants Kiwi dead. So I wanted to ask; the people that decide to come after me during Kiwi’s walk time, do you want them dead or alive when I bring them to you?”

So blunt and straight to the point, Alexander chuckles at that, amused.

“I’m sure a disciple of Master Kita will come to understand who poses a threat and who doesn't. I don’t care about the lives of those who want my little puppy dead. It doesn’t matter who they are, if they come after him, kill them. After all,” his eyes are gentle when he looks down at the puppy, though there’s a glint of danger that flashes in the light of his eyes, “only people with evil hearts will want to hurt an innocent puppy.”

Evil hearts. What a strange way to put it that way.

You get too curious not to ask; “Do you believe we aren’t evil? A little kid might subject us to the same category as them. We all kill after all. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t matter who. Killers are all evil in the eyes of some.”

He doesn’t think much on it when he answers your question. “In my eyes, many of us, like you and I, kill only for survival.” You and I, he says. “If an apocalypse were to happen, you’d kill a zombie for survival, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t just it bite you and you certainly wouldn’t let them bite someone you care for. You’d kill them. For survival.”

He looks up, eyes as clear as day. “This business we’re in…we’re in the same boat.”

Killing to survive.

Killing because there is no other choice.

You don’t think you’ve ever met a man like him who seems so sentimental on life as if a part of him is satisfied with what he’s gone through but he also holds some regret, things he knows beyond you, years he’s lived more than you, and has gained wisdom from all the experience.

No one from this business has ever looked in the same lens as he does on life and you hate it.

You hate how it makes you feel.

So you drop the subject and leave the greenhouse, feeling that creepy sense of goosebumps on your body as you go.

When Kiwi wakes from his nap a little after, he comes to find you and you take him out on the walk you promised him before that meeting with Alexander.

The walk is nice, the scenery different from that of Seoul, and the breath of fresh air it allows you to intake with a piece of mind helps you remain calm and collected. Kiwi walks beside you without a leash, his little feet taking you down the paths as if he’s done this a thousand times before, with his little nose curious at every little thing around him.

He doesn’t ever stray away and you guess perhaps even the little one understands the dangers of what it means to be himself. In all honesty, you prefer cats over dogs but you have to admit this isn’t so bad — well, being in Norway helps, you guess.

In Seoul, the streets wouldn’t forgive you for taking a walk so carefreely like this.

But of course, Norway has its own dangers. You are taking care of a prominent figure of a powerful mafia after all.

For the most part, you had been following Kiwi and letting him guide you where his nose leads him, but when the two of you come towards a lake where lies a bridge at the center, the little puppy suddenly stops in his tracks, sniffs the air, before retracing back to you.

Your brows furrow slightly when he steps up to your feet, hiding in between them, and when you hear a small noise out of the ordinary and look up with a calm gaze at the sudden new presence that has now surround the both of you, an exasperated sigh leaves you.

So much for peace and quiet.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing with that dog?” A man asks in Norwegian.

“Dog sitting,” you reply in English.

They look amongst one another, confusion plastered on their faces probably because they’ve never seen you around before and when Kiwi grinds his teeth and growls lowly at them, you put a foot closer to him, trying to ease the little puppy.

“What happened to the old sitter? Dead?” He speaks up again, a brow raised your way. Perhaps he’s testing your ability to understand him so when he speaks in his language, you continue replying in English with perfect understanding of one another.

“Not dead. I’m just a temporary sitter.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you around Alexander before.”

“Just a common girl.” You take a small step back seeing the way he reaches for something in his pockets.

“You should know that the streets are dangerous.”

A little chuckle leaves you. “I wouldn’t be trusted with Alexander’s dog if I didn’t know that, now would I? Still, that’s a very bad idea,” you beckon at the gun he pulls out. “You wouldn’t want to do that.”

The corner of his lip curls upwards as he brings his gun forward to his face, playing with it just as his friends start to close in on you. “And why not? Are you afraid, little common girl?”

“Afraid?” You tilt your head back, laughing. “No, no, it’s not me who should be afraid.” He sends you a furrow in his brows at the way you look so relaxed and so you go on. “Alexander has already given me permission to eliminate anyone who poses a threat, which means I don’t have to go easy on you or spare your lives.”

“Really?” He scoffs, taunting you. “One against seven, you really think a little girl like you can take us?”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about me, though you’d be surprised I can totally take you.”

“What?”

“You should learn to heighten your senses, old man, maybe then you’d realize we aren’t the only ones here.” With that signal, someone from the group has their neck slashed from behind and another one gets shot right in the head. 

One by one, they fall as you calmly pick up the scared little dog and stroke along his head to calm him down. He leans into your touch as the two of you ignore what’s happening around you, and once he finally seems alright again, you turn back to where Jungkook and Hoseok are standing, the enemies all dead on the ground.

You take one glance down at the dead bodies before checking the time on your watch. “I’ll inform Alexander and have his people clean this up,” you say as you reach for your phone. “Meanwhile, would one of you like to accompany me back to his mansion? Take on the role Taehyung took back at London?”

Jungkook comes along while Hoseok stays back and the walk back for the most part lies in silence.

Drama only occurs once you return to the mansion, hearing the sound of a familiar voice you haven’t heard in some time now. He shouts angrily you hear it through the halls and when you walk into the living room, you find Karl Larsen with three of his men behind him, reprimanding poor little Ester with Asher standing off to the side, looking bored and exasperated of his uncle.

No one stops him.

“Are you that incompetent? Just how useless are you that my father has to choose a stranger to take over your job? I told you to keep an eye on that mutt and you can’t even do that?”

Huh. Who would have thought Ester was actually Karl’s servant who had been assigned to look over Kiwi before you came in to take over temporarily? Though from the looks of it, when she cowers in fear under his demands, her head lowered, eyes tightly shut, shoulders trembling slightly, she doesn’t like this man so much.

Who does after all?

But she did look a lot more carefree living in this manor, looking after Kiwi under Alexander’s commands. Alexander isn’t known to bring just anyone in to work for him, which means Ester managed to gain his trust. He’s good at knowing who to trust, he wouldn’t just be easily swayed by his own blood’s opinions, so if given the chance, you believe that Ester wouldn’t hesitate to betray Karl.

She’s a sweet girl, you don’t doubt that.

Asher on the other hand, you aren’t too sure if a man like him deserves the benefit of the doubt.

He senses your presence though, unlike Karl and his men, and when he looks up to meet your eyes from the entryway of the living room, he stands up a little more straight, a small curl turning upwards upon the corner of his lips.

Maybe he’s just bored with petty family affairs and has no say in what his uncle wants or does. Family positions are important in the mafia after all.

“Where is she? The new girl?” Karl’s voice snaps back, his eyes bulging and you step towards them despite Jungkook’s caution, knowing the signs of that man. “Bring her to me now, you useless—”

His hand raises in the air and before it can come down at the young girl’s head, you grab his wrist mid-air with your left hand, stopping him successfully. “If you’re really that upset about the change, why don’t you bring it up to your father, spoiled old man?”

His brows furrow tightly when he looks your way initially, before his expression begins to cool and soften when he realizes just who it is that dared to stop him from punishing his subordinate. The strength of his arm weakens and he brings it back to his side, fixing the cuff of his suit, while a smirk plays on his lips as he keeps his gaze on you.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you want to vomit and though for a second looking at that familiar, disgusting smirk on his face causes your mind to want to resurface the memories of all the things he’s done, you keep them back in, focusing on other things to not trigger it. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. What are you doing here in Norway? Came to pay me a visit?”

He doesn’t know what happened to your father, you realize through those words, which is a bit surprising because of how close the two of them were, but then again, after the wipe of your father and his people, it kind of makes sense Karl never got word of your father’s death.

Both Asher and Jungkook are confused about the way Karl is acting so friendly and close to you, as well as the way he just naturally turns his attention from being angry at Ester to invite you to take a seat.

You follow him and settle Kiwi in your lap and see the way he glances at the puppy, a slight bitterness contouring his features before it disappears all too quickly.

He doesn’t like Kiwi, that much is clear, and with the way he addresses you, you can tell this man still thinks you of the naive little girl who would submit to just anyone without fighting back.

“Your words are a lot sharper than they used to be,” he notes, remembering the way you spoke to him. “Seems you’re finally growing into the woman that your father trained you to be.”

With a hand stroking the fur of Kiwi’s, you take a look at his three men. One of them is someone you recognize, the other two are completely new faces.

“Tell me then, how have you been since I left Seoul?”

One year, he came and left — not even one year but a summer, four months — and that was all it took for him to do all the things he’d done.

“I have news to give you, sir,” you say and he tsks at you.

“Come on now, call me what you used to call me. We were close, weren’t we? Don’t treat me like a stranger now, Y/N.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you bite your tongue back, resisting the urge to run from his touch. So with a tight grin, you give him the news he’s been needing to catch up on. “I am the Grim Reaper now..uncle.”

That amused expression on his face falls slightly, masked with surprise and confusion, and he takes one look at Jungkook who stands guard behind you, before returning his gaze back on you, flabbergasted.

“Your father’s dead?” He breathes, not believing it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? How’d he die?”

Telling him the truth now would lead to an outburst from him and you can’t have Jungkook seeing that. Karl is a madman and if he knows of the truth here before strangers outside his and your people, he will definitely forget about the way your true relationship with your father is supposed to be kept a secret from the public.

“I apologize, uncle, preparations for his funeral and my succession took longer than expected.” Jungkook knows those words aren’t true but thankfully he knows to keep quiet.

“I could have helped,” Karl insists and you give him a pressed smile.

It’s strange the way he can’t comprehend just why the daughter of his friend whom he’s hurt many times did not want him involved in her family affairs, but you guess the minds of psychopaths are just like that. They can understand human emotions but they cannot feel them, and so they cannot emphasize with others.

“Do you not remember all the things you’ve done to me?” You want to ask him. “Do you not recall what you and father had done? Why would I want your help?” But you bite your tongue back just as Kiwi stirs from your touch, probably sensing a change in you.

The more you face the people who have done you wrong, the harder it is to keep the facade, you realize. Namjoon once said to stop before it all breaks you and you told him broken things cannot be broken even more but perhaps they can.

They can.

You’ve reached your breaking point before, not just once or twice, and yet it seems the world has just proven to you that glass can keep shattering and shattering until there is nothing left but dust.

Are you prepared to turn into dust?

You are. You’ve said it before.

“A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

You were prepared, your body was, but is your mind prepared? Will your mind ever be prepared?

No one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain.

Kiwi whimpers on your lap, his head nuzzling into the palm of your hand when you stop stroking him. They say that dogs can smell human emotions and in turn, adopt them as their own, and hearing the distress whimpers, you try to return to Karl and give him a reply and yet nothing happens. You can’t even open your mouth to speak. You feel frozen on the spot.

Why now? Why now, whynow, whynow,whynowwhynow?

Footsteps are heard upon the silence of the room. “What’s making my Kiwi sound like that?” A low rumble demands an answer but you remain still, unable to move.

You feel paralyzed.

Kiwi looks up at his master’s voice for a second before going back to nuzzle against you and lend you his warmth, and while the people in the room stand up straight at his presence, Karl even going up to greet his father, you remain planted on the sofa.

Alexander ignores Karl to walk over to where his puppy is. He takes a glance your way, with Asher confused and Jungkook concerned and a little panicked because of the state you’re in, but rather than making this a big deal and reprimanding you for causing his puppy to sound the way he does, Alexander instead remains calm.

“Come here, Kiwi,” he calls, and though the pup hesitates at first, looking between you and his master, he eventually jumps up and into Alexander’s arms. “Karl, I’ll deal with you later. Right now I’m too busy to entertain guests.”

Though Karl looks like he wants to protest at first, he nods in reply, knowing he cannot talk back to his father. You were hoping he’d just leave it at that and go ahead with his men but for some reason, he just has to turn to you.

“My deepest condolences, Y/N. Let’s have tea to catch up next time, yeah?” Unable to grasp the situation, he reaches out to place a hand on your cheek, a smile on his face, before he arches his back straight again to bid Alexander goodbye.

In that moment, you stand, though it’s only because staying on that couch feels disgusting now having to sit still and do nothing when he reached out to touch you. You hate the touch, it burns you, but you remain silent when you stand a little behind Alexander, nodding Karl goodbye, and only once he leaves does the room feel a little easier to breathe in.

Just a little.

.

.

.

“Should I call Mingyu?” Jungkook asks when you return to the room Alexander prepared for you that first night you met him. He watches you with keen eyes and observance as you walk further into the room, away from the door, eyes still refusing to look anyone in the eyes, silent with a blank expression. “Or..should I leave the room?”

You don’t give him an answer but you’re thinking.

How far is it from here to the manor Namjoon prepared for you? A couple of minutes away by vehicle, which means it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to come here. But him coming here would mean a hassle because then you’d have to let the people here know that Mingyu’s one of yours and you don’t feel like interacting with anyone right now. A letter in your handwriting wouldn’t suffice either because they don’t know your handwriting.

You could honestly call Ester and describe Mingyu’s face to tell her he’s with you but that would mean interacting.

Jungkook could leave the room and yet the thought of him leaving gives a small dread in the pits of your stomach because you hate being alone and left in an unfamiliar place and right now he’s the only thing that’s familiar to you.

Familiar.

How funny that this familiar person left you to fend for yourself and gave you his cold shoulders when you needed him most.

And yet there’s no other choice.

So just like back in London when you familiarized yourself with Seokjin’s warmth and kindness for that split second, you turn around to face Jungkook.

He stands far from you, having not moved from the door since the two of you walked in, and a part of you hates that despite what he’s done to you, you know Jungkook is a man with natural kindness and would never do anything that would harm you on purpose. You see it in the way he keeps his distance, in the two questions he asked, how he doesn’t try to approach you, that unlike Karl who doesn’t know how to take a hint, he understands your fear of being touched by men even though you did allow Yoongi to hold you and poked Seokjin slightly on the shoulder.

He respects your boundaries. He always had, he always did.

So why did it have to end with him giving you the cold shoulders and pretending he hated you? Why did things have to turn out the way it did?

You’re so tired. Tired of everything.

“Come here,” you call for him, and you hate how even when you give him permission to come close, he still hesitates, concerned for the state of your mind.

When he approaches, his steps are slow, and once he’s inches away from you, you hold out the palm of your hand.

“I want you to help me with something,” you say, “you don’t have to do much, just..stay still and…and give me your hand.”

His brows are knitted, eyes staring down at your palm as if this isn’t a good idea. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, feeling conflicted. “Hoseok should have been here, we should have switched places. He would’ve been a better choice in—”

“I know Hoseok would have been the better choice but we can’t turn back time now can we?!” Your patience is starting to wear thin and when he flinches a little at the way you raise your voice, your own eyes widen at what you’d just done. Shocked at how easy it was to lose control, and when you begin to spiral out of fear for raising your voice at him, you put your hands in your hair, trembling.

“I’m sorry, please just…just help me, Jungkook. You have to replace what he did. I hate it, I hate his touch, and right now I’d rather feel your touch than his so please…please?” You look up at him, not caring that you’re pleading and looking desperate.

When he sees it, sees the way your eyes gloss over with a glaze of water, at your panicked tone and your begging for his help, he gives you his hand.

You take it and press his palm onto your cheek, over that burning feeling from where Karl touched you, and the peace that you yearned for doesn’t come right away. You struggle for a bit and your legs almost give in from the weakness but Jungkook’s right there to hold you up and bring you over to the bed so that you don’t have to rely on your legs. 

He remains standing before you, watching as you rest your eyes while keeping his hand pressed to your skin.

It takes some time for the storm to wash away and for the calm to walk over but it comes, eventually, and when it does come, it isn’t in the way it is with Mingyu. Jungkook doesn’t give you the sort of calm that your second in command gives you, though you expected it because no one can replace Mingyu’s warmth.

The sort of calm Jungkook gives you follows with pain and grief over what had been lost all those years ago.

His warmth, his presence, his puppy-like self following you around, willing to do anything and everything for you. He’d always been such a quiet man who follows the rules well, who does everything with great effort, who is sometimes too naive and gets roped up in Jimin’s antics and gets scolded for things he didn’t do.

Always there to lend you his jacket when you shivered in the slightest way, always there to protect you from anyone that bothered you, noticing the smallest things, and though you relied on him for a lot of things, he relied on you in turn as well.

You understood him in ways the others couldn’t, the two of you in love like those two innocent little kids who were finding out what it meant to love someone for the first time. Soft and gentle, a bit awkward and clumsy.

“They didn’t have the drink that you like but I got you…” He walks back with a hand holding onto a glass of something for you to drink, but in the middle of his sentence, Jungkook’s expression falls. “...Something happened.”

Immediately, he’s shifting his head around to try and find who it was that approached you tonight but before he can get too far, you’re grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling his attention back on you. 

“It…nothing happened,” you insist with a bit of panic on your expression, afraid of what Jungkook might do out in public like this, all the while trying to see if you can catch of glimpse of Namjoon anywhere on the floor. Thankfully he isn’t around, otherwise he’d be able to also tell something was wrong with one look your way.

There are days when hiding your emotions are easy and there are other days when it’s a little more difficult. Like on the days when people make you uncomfortable and you just can’t seem to hide it well. Those days are hard.

And Jungkook, who looks back at you, clearly doesn’t buy your little protest. “Y/N, I need you to just point out—”

“Please.” You squeeze his biceps, holding yourself close to him, pleading with your eyes as you look up at him, and Jungkook immediately recognizes just what those eyes are trying to tell him;

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

You’re frightened, he realizes, and after a small look around the room to check his surrounding, he brings you in close to him and keeps you by his side as he takes your hand and brings you around to an empty space where the two of you can be left alone together.

“Is there anything you need?” Is the first thing he asks you as he sits you down on a seat in the empty room, but you simply shake your head and squeeze his hand tight.

“Just you,” you say in a quiet voice, and Jungkook stays with you that night without ever leaving your side, all the while you simply hold onto the touch of his hand, the feel of it a comfort unlike any other.

His touch reminds you of those memories, of the past and the tears and the smiles, and though you hate the pain that it resurfaces, you’d rather revel in this pain than the pain of remembering the memories with Karl.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the reckless

— summary: in the face of danger, you run right into it

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 4.7k

— warnings: slight violence

— PART 24 / previous post / masterpost

It’s about one in the morning when you sneak out of the room with gentle steps, making sure to not wake the one who sleeps on the armchair beside the bed, his soft little snores still heard until his presence disappears with the closed door.

The hallways are as silent as it was back in the room, the only thing heard is the sounds of your footsteps echoing through, and as you close your shawl closer to your body, you look around to make your way to the familiar steps that lead outside where the greenhouse stands.

The doors are left unlocked so you let yourself in and step through the glass doors, closing your eyes for a moment to breathe in the scent of the greens all around you.

It’s during lonely moments like this you feel your heart craving for some sort of familiarity. Not just the presence of your Reapers but for the presence of your manor itself.

For years you spent hating that place more than anything because that was where everything happened; where you were born, where you grew up, watching your mother hating you with every fiber left in her, chasing after your father’s attention, shedding tears on top of gentle shoulders, trapped behind the steel door of a white room, training, meeting good people, meeting bad people, everything.

Everything.

You can’t recall when the feeling of dread and disdain turned to eyes seeking for it, feet yearning to step back into it. Maybe it was the moment your father died, when the dynasty he worked so hard to build broke down into pieces like a house of cards, when you took over and made it into the home that it is now starting to feel like.

You returned to it after Leehyun, locking yourself in the comfort of your room, knowing that if you were to step outside, your Reapers would be right there with the smallest calling of their names. It served as your escape when it used to be the very reason you hated your existence.

The manor has become home and perhaps the only reason it’s able to be such a thing is because of what you’ve built it to be.

You want to escape, to return to it and simply hide in it and have no one bother you until you’re ready to step out yourself.

On the bench where Alexander sat this morning, you take your seat and close your eyes, trying to manipulate your mind into thinking you aren’t in Norway, that you’re back in Seoul, back at the manor, and not somewhere far, far away.

It’s exhausting doing this, your revenge plan. It’s exhausting having to put up a front, exhausting having to freeze up and recall unwanted memories that you wish could bury forever in the back of your mind.

But buried memories can’t always stay buried. They return, eventually, in time, whether you’re prepared or not.

You can’t tell how much time has passed but when you feel something against your feet accompanied by small little pants, you open your eyes to find the little puppy that accepted you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

You look down at him and he returns your gaze with a tilt in his head, tail wagging, and swirls about in a circle once before using his nose to poke at your leg again. He reminds you of the children at The Academy, how they’ve never been scared of you despite wanting to always push them away with your cold demeanor. It’s like Kiwi sees right through you, just like them, and in your silence, you pick up the small little thing to bring him onto your lap.

His tail wags a little more and when you run your hand through his fur, he gets a little more excited and affectionate.

Besides the children, there’s someone else you see in him.

“You remind me of someone,” you say as he nuzzles into the feeling of your palm. “Though unlike you, he wasn’t too fond of me in the beginning. It took some time for him to warm up but once he got to that point, he wouldn’t stop following me around.”

You fall silent again, thinking, remembering, reminiscing, and your fingers stop playing around with the little puppy on your lap.

The memories aren’t as hazy as they used to be, they’re a little clearer, a little closer to home. You can feel it in your heart when something feels like it’s just stabbed it, and in your stomach when you feel a little drop.

“I’m sorry for being selfish,” a voice whispers into your ear. “I’m sorry for only ever thinking about myself.”

But the thing about that is, you cannot be sorry for something that is within your nature, you cannot be sorry for wanting to put yourself first in a cruel, cruel world. When everything feels wrong, when the world feels like it’s always against you, when you do not know who to put your trust in.

If you were a little more mature and a little more brave, would you have been able to tell him the things you want to say now?

Things like; it wasn’t your fault. Things like; it’s alright, and you’re okay, and rest well.

Rest well, rest well, rest well.

You lean your head forward to the sky, gaze closed, as if hoping the things you spoke within your heart could be heard from him wherever he stays.

And as the silence continues, you feel your consciousness eventually slip away as your shoulders loosen their tensions with the feel of the little puppy resting well in your lap.

You didn’t realize it, that you had fallen asleep, but you know yourself waking when you feel a presence closing in and immediately opening your eyes to meet the old man who has a blanket hovered before you, his eyes falling a little surprised because he hadn’t expected you to wake up so easily.

“It’s good to put your guard down a little, you know,” Alexander says with a small chuckle as you accept the blanket to drape it behind you.

“I’ve learned my lesson with that,” you answer him and scoot over to the edge of the bench in order to make room for him.

He takes his seat beside you though leaves enough space in between and you’re thankful this man is observant. Kiwi’s awake but remains quiet and still, head resting against his paws with his tail swaying side to side.

“Do you have anyone you can trust in this world?” Alexander crosses a leg over the other and you look at your watch to see that it’s about four in the morning.

You managed to sleep in an unfamiliar place while knowing there weren’t any Reapers that could come to you at any second. How odd.

“There are always chances someone can stab you in the back.” Maybe the presence of Kiwi helped you. “It’s never a good idea to put your full trust in anyone.”

“You say that but one day you might come to know it feels rather nice putting unconditional faith in someone.”

You shake your head, brows furrowing. “Even if that someone has a good heart and good intentions, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

There’s only been one person you know you can truly trust but he’s gone from this world, only ever being able to see him again when he wishes to visit you in your dreams. He’s the only person you’d ever allow to hurt you over and over again, even if it isn’t the real version of him.

Mister Butler can hate you and betray you but you’d let him do it again and again and maybe that’s because in your heart, you know those versions that the nightmares give you are simply from your own imagination and that he’d never truly come to hate you. He’s incapable of betraying your trust. Someone like him, who stayed by your side when he didn’t have to, isn’t a man who can have his heart easily swayed into hating you.

“Are you tired of betrayal?”

“I’m tired of everything,” you admit and he looks at you up and down, eyes narrowing slightly.

“And yet here you are, out in Norway.” Alexander knows a thing or two, he isn’t dumb, and you aren’t someone to think otherwise. He wouldn’t be in the position he is now if he was, and you don’t deny what he implies in his words. “You run straight into the very things that make you tired.”

“Because it is the only way I can feel alive.” You look on straight ahead before you, watching the pretty sky that pokes out from behind the plants of the greenhouse. “Otherwise I’d be in my room, rotting away. There is no purpose in running away, there is no purpose in leaving things be. My father did not leave this world for me to simply carry on as if he never existed.”

Some may take that as you carrying on your father’s legacy and whatever Alexander is thinking, you don’t care too much for it because all it matters is what you know. You didn’t kill your father just to stay silent for the rest of your life. His death was the beginning of everything.

Your turning point.

“And no one can stop a mind that’s already been made up.” Alexander nods, understanding, and doesn’t push for answers, but perhaps in the back of his mind, he’s a little curious about you and your goals and aspirations in this life. What drives you, what made you into the sort of person you are today, but Alexander is wise unlike many old men you’ve met throughout your life, so he doesn’t question things beyond your boundary.

And so he diverts the subject once again, turning it to the puppy in your lap.

“Perhaps you should adopt a pet of your own, to help you ease your mind a little,” he tells you with a fond gaze at Kiwi. “Humans can be quite disappointing, but a loyal pet will stay loyal for the rest of its life. Not to mention they’re the greatest comfort when someone needs it.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you should turn to a dog rather than humans in your time of need. Humans are disappointing creatures after all. But, “It’s too much of a hassle,” you say. “I can’t even take care of my own self properly, it’d be unwise of me to try and take care of another being.”

“...Is that so?”

It becomes a daily occurrence; the talks in the greenhouse, and soon you come to realize that Alexander isn’t one to let just anyone into his greenhouse. The doors that are usually locked during hours when one should be asleep are kept open, and perhaps that’s because he’s come to realize that you don’t sleep a lot, at least not in the house of a stranger, so he leaves them open for you to visit when you need your space.

And in the morning, around four or five AM when he awakens, he’ll come along and strike up a conversation and the two of you will speak about the things he brings up. Things like Seoul and of the Reaper gang, sometimes he’ll ask of Master Kitagawa, other times he’ll ask how far your skills go.

You speak to him in vague terms, careful not to tell him everything, but he comes to know that you were an only child, married once in an arranged marriage, but divorced. He doesn’t seem too surprised by that fact probably because everyone knows this happens all the time.

And in him knowing a little more about you, you come to know a little more about him as well.

Like when Kiwi came into his life and the fact that he’s had other pets throughout his lifetimes before but they’ve all died and left him.

You asked him why he continues adopting pets when he knows they don’t live as long as humans do, why he hurts himself over and over again, but he simply smiles and says that sometimes being able to love is better than being lonely. That it doesn’t matter how many times he has to watch them die and that he’d never regret loving them.

Alexander believes in reincarnation, that the souls of his first puppy dies and returns in the form of the other pets he’s had, so he’s never truly lonely, and something about that, believing in such a thing, though it sounds a bit absurd, is a little bit beautiful in its own way.

If you could believe Mister Butler died and returned through someone else, it’d be a nice delusion to live in, and despite the fact that there have been one or two guys that have reminded you of him, the truth is, no one can ever be Mister Butler.

Not Hoseok. Not Mingyu.

Because Mister Butler is like family. He was. 

Through your marriage with Namjoon, he was your older brother, but he always felt closer to a father figure to you, and perhaps that’s because your father was never there for you. Mingyu is closer to an older brother. A companion. A friend.

And Hoseok?

The one that got away.

The right person at the wrong time.

And because of that fact, you don’t allow yourself to be near him for too long, hence denying his companionship when Jungkook told you it’d probably be better if Hoseok were standing guard at your side rather than him.

It’s true, Hoseok would be better. You wouldn’t be as cautious towards him as you are of Jungkook, but it’s that exact reason that you cannot let him near.

You cannot let him shake your core, so you endure what you can and let Jungkook stay near you despite the constant reminder of what he did all those years ago.

It’s not entirely his fault but as you’ve said, it doesn’t hurt any less.

In your time getting closer to Alexander, he’s refused the appearance of Karl several times. Asher says if he has to, his grandfather will meet him elsewhere. Just not in the house. The guy has come to guess that you’re here because of Karl, and if he’s guessed it, maybe Alexander has too.

Though the old man never brings it up despite the plenty of chances during your greenhouse talks.

“Any progress?”

Dawn remains in the sky as ever and while Jungkook sleeps, you sit on the windowsill to take a call from the other side of the world. It’s a bit chilly to head out today so you stay indoors this time, making sure to keep your voice low.

“Plenty. It’s been quite peaceful these days, it feels a bit out of place.” Alexander’s kindness wasn’t something you expected the first day you walked into Norway. You expected things to be harder after meeting Asher but surprisingly, things are quite…easy, to say the least. “I have a feeling it won’t last too long.”

“No?” Namjoon sounds a little confused on his end. “Why do you say that? Should we come over earlier than planned?”

“No, don’t do that. Come as scheduled,” you say and look away from the window to the man who’s moved from sleeping on the armchair to the bed. It took some time to convince him initially but eventually Jungkook agreed to take the bed since you don’t really sleep anyway.

“You have something planned, don’t you?” There’s some suspicion in his voice and you want to laugh a little at how things are right now.

Who would have thought you’d be back on speaking terms with the man you thought you’d push away for good? But here he is, back and ready to give you his trust. You don’t know if he’s smart or stupid or both. Maybe there’s a bit of both, but it probably took some time for him to consider it, being as the whole thing was about his brother whom he loves very dearly.

Namjoon’s finally using his head.

Though you aren’t too sure if you like it so much.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

“I don’t know if I can trust those words so easily. The last time you left the country, you disregarded your life just for that plan of yours.”

“Listen.” You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s a pause on his end before he speaks again. “You didn’t assure me that you won’t do something reckless,” he notes and you internally click your tongue, “which means that feeling of the peace not lasting for long is you actively causing that to happen.” When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Will you stop being so secretive and let me know what you’re thinking? Maybe then you won’t be in the same position you were with Leehyun, and me and my boys and the Reapers will know how to help you.”

Well.

“You can’t keep hiding, Y/N. Stop being so reckless, you’re too reckless.”

“Watch me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“No?”

Another sigh and he knows he can’t win. “Just…if you decide it’s better for me to go over sooner rather than later, let me know. I’ll be waiting. Right here, just a phone call away.”

“...Sure.”

You don’t think too much about it. You don’t want to think too much about it. 

So when the cloud gives way to the sun and it shines higher in the sky, you finally take up Karl’s request to have tea and catch up, deciding you shouldn’t keep running away from what you’re trying to face.

You have Yeonjun stay by your side this time, rather than Jungkook, in case Karl says something out of line and Jungkook will hear more things than you want him to. You stay in the garden of Alexander’s mansion, keeping a little distance away from the building itself, and with the feel of eyes from a window behind you, the conversation begins.

“I remember him,” Karl points at your escort when he takes his first sip of the tea. “Jun? Joon?” Yeonjun doesn’t make an effort to fix him and simply remains quiet. “Right, never one to talk but always by your side.” His eyes settle back on you, a small glint of mirth in them. “You have quite the loyal companion.”

“Yes..I do.” You ignore his gaze to take a sip of your own tea, keeping your replies short.

“I’m still a bit hurt you didn’t reach out to me about your father’s death. We were good friends, you knew that.”

Of course you did. “I apologize, it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” He raises a brow, unconvinced. “Hmm…and here I thought, I left a good impression in those four months I stayed in Seoul.”

You did. 

You did indeed leave an impression that will last a lifetime.

“Maybe I should have tried harder?”

That mirth in his eyes. Again.

You want to punch him.

“How did he die though? The man I knew isn’t someone who would have easily died and he would have updated me about his health had he fallen ill.”

“He was betrayed,” you say, not batting an eye, and Karl puts his cup down after hearing that.

His eyes are blown out. “Your father? Betrayed? And he didn’t see that coming?”

“They were smart.”

“Even still..” He can’t believe it, though you don’t blame him too much. The father you both know is not someone who’s easily trusting of others, therefore he’s always right there to pick out someone who will betray him before they can execute their plan. 

That’s why it took so long to manipulate him into believing you were a daughter full on worshiping his ground without an ounce of betrayal in your veins. That’s why your masterful plan took so long. You had to convince your father into believing he had won in manipulating you to his side when all along, you had been waiting to stab him in the back. Facing a man like him, smart, calculating, a manipulating gaslighter who thinks the world centers around him requires more than just simple brains and planning.

It took years to execute your plans and even then you feel like you could have done better with everything. For one, not letting anyone see what had happened, aka Bangtan. But what’s done is done. Dwelling on past mistakes is just stupid and a waste of time.

“And what about you?” When Karl points the finger at you, his gaze narrows, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re his daughter, his perfect little doll. You didn’t see that someone was plotting your father’s death? Is it not your job to protect him?”

“That’s right,” you give him nothing to fight against, just simply accepting the accusations placed upon you. “I failed in protecting him. I am an incompetent daughter who should have done better.”

Karl stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Your father did all that he could for you and still, you–” 

When he looks at you again and meets the gaze you send him, his word stops mid-sentence. Your stare isn’t threatening, it isn’t a glare, nor one that is meant to scare him off, yet something in them lies a hidden threat either way, were he to continue speaking. Karl, seeing that, lets out a chuckle and he closes in on you, patting you on the shoulder before simply leaving his hand there.

You look at it for a second before giving him the attention he wants as he leans in, nose inches away from you.

“Your father created you into the weapon that you are today, my dear little Y/N, and you’ve even been trained under Kitagawa, so why is it that you failed to protect him? Huh? Tell me.”

From the corner of your eye, Yeonjun moves slightly closer, though he keeps his distance and doesn’t dare to make a move unless you instruct him otherwise.

The breath against your face, the touch of skin burning through the thin cloth of your dress, the sides of your knees meeting one another, back straightening up, heels rising from the ground, fingers intertwined into each other, sitting on your lap.

You keep your eyes open, meeting his gaze, but internally you’re counting in your head and holding your breath, hearing the beat of your heart that might as well rip through your rib cages and past the barrier of your skin to physically beat widely before Karl himself.

Maybe he hears it, maybe he can feel it, but whether he does or not, he has no will to move away from you and you know Karl, he isn’t dumb. He knows exactly the effect he has on you right now. He saw it, knows just how you felt all those weeks ago when you were in the living room and he touched you.

He knows and doesn’t care one bit.

Just as he was all those years ago.

They never change.

“What is it that you want from me, Karl?” He doesn’t fix you into calling him uncle this time. “Do you want me to repent on my knees and beg for forgiveness? My father’s already six feet underground, it’s not as if he’ll hear me now, but as his close friend, if you wish for me to do just that, I will. Just for you.”

There’s malice in his eyes, a scoff that leaves him when he watches you, and finally, he moves back. Just a little. “You’ve gotten quite bold, haven’t you? Now that your father isn’t here to teach you a lesson.”

“And if I have? What will you do about it?” You push back, leaning forward, challenging him despite your body screaming at you to run away. “Go ahead and do whatever you’d like with me, there’s no one here right now that can stop you. I can tell Yeonjun to pluck his eyes out right now and he’ll do just that. He won’t say a word and he won’t move unless I tell him otherwise.”

At the mention of the boy, Karl looks over between you and him, and then something in him lights up slightly as if he’d just remembered something. As if he’d just realized something.

“That’s right...what loyal companions…” He steps back, releasing your shoulder, and tilts his head back as he laughs obnoxiously. “Is this all about that little boy I messed with? Him?” The laugh rings a little louder, a little more crazed. “You pretend you’re so cold and have no feelings and yet here you are, chasing after me all the way from Seoul, just for a boy, the second you got the chance. If your father were still here, he wouldn’t have let that happen, but now that he’s gone…-”

He pauses again, and after hurling over laughing, stands back up straight again as the laugh dies all too abruptly. So you stand up from your seat, the corner of your lip curling over as you notice just why he’s gone silent.

By now the tea is slowly getting cold but you don’t care much for it as you stand tall, hands held together before you in a formal manner.

“The person who betrayed him…” His eyes narrow. “Who was it?”

“Oh uncle,” you mock that title, mirth in your eyes, “I think you know exactly where that answer lies.”

Danger.

Something screams danger when his gaze darkens in realization.

And yet you seem to only be attracted to danger as it is the only thing you’ve ever gotten used to seeing every day. The danger of being born as a mafia heir, married to a mafia powerhouse, spiraled into a hellhole you cannot ever seem to escape so you run towards it.

Directly into the fire.

Into the danger.

Provoking your enemies, knowing exactly just what their reactions will be, because danger seems to be the one thing in your life that will never leave and abandon you out of nowhere. The only thing you can forever trust to catch you were you to fall blindly into it.

And blindly you fall, trusting it to come.

And comes it goes, directly your way.

Never disappointing.

Never disappointing.

Namjoon called you reckless and for the first time in forever, you might have to agree with him. Because being reckless means not caring for the consequences to come after committing a rash action. The reckless ones do not care what happens to them, they live off adrenaline, they run towards the fire when everyone else runs away.

Towards the danger despite knowing there will always be a chance they may not survive. Unheeding, stubborn, thoughtless, careless, negligent, imprudent. Unwise, unwary, incautious, hasty.

A fool.

A fool.

A fool.

But misguided and left on their own. Lonely, abandoned, hurt, isolated, rejected, forsaken. An outcast and unloved, a disappointment and broken.

Broken.

A broken little soul whose heart lies empty with a hole pierced through the middle.

You are reckless. You are broken.

And broken things do not know how to save themselves, they only know the warmth of the fire. That is the only thing they can rely on.

So you stay within his vicinity, within Karl’s reach, watching, simply standing there, keeping still, as if keeping vigil. Like you’re just waiting, just expecting for something, anything, the inevitable, to happen. And when it comes in the form of a harsh, harsh slap across the face that has your body turning over to the side and having to hold onto the table to keep your balance, you can’t even say that you are surprised.

It feels like being in the presence of your father all over again, in the face of danger, of a manipulator, of a gaslighter, of an abuser.

He returns hard and so vividly in the form of anger, in the form of a ghost, a spirit whom you see standing right behind Karl. He stands as still as ever, hands held behind his back, simply watching.

Watching.

While you stand before him in front of a man he’s using to command orders over him. Using violence through others because father never raises his hands, father never puts in the effort or strength or power into physical forms. He does it through others, he commands through others, he hurts through others.

Watching until he’s satisfied.

But he’s never satisfied. He’s never satisfied.

And on your end, you can do nothing but accept it all willingly.

There is nothing else you can do, there is nothing else that can be done. It is like being in his presence all over again. Yeonjun, the Reapers behind you, standing still, told to not do a thing, to not move an inch, and your father behind the violence, keeping silent with a deadly gaze.

You return to the past.

You see him.

He’s right there.

And Karl raises his hand again.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the habits

— summary: you are a weapon and weapons do not weep

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: physical abuse, violence, mentally unstable mindset

— PART 25 / previous post / masterpost

One.

Two.

Three.

The seconds will pass. The minutes will fly. The hours will go.

You’re alright.

Endure it. Endure it.

It will pass.

Everything will pass just as everything has always passed.

In time, father will raise his hand to indicate them to stop. A stop signal. He may leave the room out of boredom but he will return just as he always does in order to demand them to leave you alone. He will never be satisfied but there is always a limit to everything and father sometimes gets too bored to keep seeing it, to keep hearing it, so he’s always there to stop it.

Eventually.

Eventually.

You just have to endure it for now until the signal comes, until—

“What are you doing?!”

You didn’t realize it and perhaps that’s because you blacked out, your mind keeping you from feeling it all completely, trying to protect you, but you’re sitting on the ground when a call demands out an answer in a loud, commanding voice, and a rushing of a pair of feet running over to push Karl off you.

Asher punches Karl right in the face, throwing him off you, before demanding the guards he has with him to hold the man back.

“She provoked me!” Karl argues like a child in a kid’s play.

He’s never been abruptly stopped before. Always angry, never satisfied.

Nothing is ever enough when it comes to the two of them. 

Karl landing hurt through his fists and weapons and anything he can get a hand on. Your father landing hurt through his commands, watching and watching and watching.

And you, their victim, who has to stay down and accept it all until there is a small amount of satisfaction that calls at them to stop.

You always wait on that call, no matter how much endurance it takes.

“That doesn’t make it right to lay your hand on a woman!” Asher retorts with anger laced in his tone, and this anger, despite how different it is from that of Karl’s, still shakes you violently though you keep as still as ever, paralyzed.

Paralyzed.

Even when the anger does not fall on you, even when he does not turn to you but towards the companion who stands behind you, who had stood still this whole time. “And what are you doing? Your boss was getting hit and you just stood there?”

Yeonjun, with a snap on cue, kneels over to your side and looks down at you with widened eyes and a frozen expression. He doesn’t touch you right away, cautious, but you see what those eyes mean, you know exactly what that expression is telling you.

That he, too, had reverted back to the past.

When your father still lived, when he had to stand by and watch everything without moving a muscle.

He reverted back just as you had.

Two little kids, who're still affected by the traumas of the past.

Two little kids.

You take Yeonjun’s hand, giving him the permission to touch you, so he helps you back onto your feet and the two of you remain in silence as you walk off with his help, not daring to look Karl in the eyes, not caring to reply to Asher.

But you feel yourself trembling with the presence of a pair of eyes boring right into your back. Not from Asher or Karl or the two guards but from someone else.

The ghost of him.

Of that man.

That man named father.

.

.

.

“Y/N?” There’s concern in Jungkook’s voice when you walk into the room and you guess that’s probably because of the state you’re in, but right now you can’t entertain him so you simply hold a hand up, asking him to stay back, and Jungkook, though worried, leaves the room on your behalf.

When you’re left alone with Yeonjun, you let your legs give in to sit on the floor rather than finding a chair or taking a seat on the bed.

The floor is comfortable. It’s always been more comfortable.

The boy takes your heels off, along with your jacket, and despite the sting of the pain that aches over your body, the only thing on your mind is the fact that you let it happen so easily, that you allowed yourself to walk back into that state of being an obedient and perfect little doll.

You reverted back to the damages just when you thought after father’s death, you wouldn’t let anyone walk over you anymore.

But it isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy.

And it will never be easy.

Father still lives in your head rent free and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much time has passed, nothing will change. It’s already been a little over a year since his death but he’s still here, still thriving, mocking you, taunting you, controlling everything that you are.

You’re shaking, trembling, not just out of fear but out of anger. Angry at yourself. For being so weak, for reverting back, for thinking things could get better.

And with Yeonjun the only one here with you at the moment, you lean into his touch and let yourself into his arms to allow the sort of warmth only your Reapers can provide you.

Yeonjun’s heartbeat won’t be the same as Mingyu’s, it’s probably even beating rapidly right now, so you don’t let your ear rest against his chest and instead wrap your arms over his neck and climb into his lap to lay your cheek against his shoulder.

Yeonjun brings his hand over to rub down your back but he’s a little awkward and unsure because he’s never really had to do this; comforting you. It’s always been Mingyu, and if Mingyu wasn’t there, it’d be Yuna, and if Yuna couldn’t do it, it’d be Dasom, or someone else.

Anyone else.

He’s only a kid after all, just eighteen years old, the youngest of your Reapers, but because no one else is here, he does his best to pick up the role that’s been given unto him.

Yet you feel him tremble slightly himself and you guess that in some way, he must be afraid as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I didn’t…I…”

You know what he’s trying to say, that he failed you, that he couldn’t protect you. But can you really blame him? Because just as you’ve been trained to endure through the pains and take everything that’s given unto you, Yeonjun, the Reapers, were trained to stand by and watch.

Habits are scary.

Frightening.

And because you don’t know how to console him and he doesn’t know how to console you, the two of you remain in silence simply holding onto one another.

Just two little kids having to rely on each other.

Just two little kids.

And after a little while, when things have settled a little more, when he starts shaking a little less, Yeonjun gathers himself and forces himself out of the state he’s in.

He stands up and you watch him leave for a second, not too long, because he rushes, and returns with materials in hand to begin tending to you. It remains as quiet as ever between the two of you, but you see the way his brows furrow in concentration and he stops himself from staying in the mindset of a teenager.

Of a child.

He becomes an adult, a reliable adult. For you. Applying what’s needed on the bruises that have swelled up, wrapping your arm with bandages, and when you frown with disgust at the sight of the white wrapping on you, wanting it off, complaining, he doesn’t fall into your trap and stands his ground just as he’s seen Mingyu do plenty of times.

Yeonjun gets frightened of you at times but he always listens to your every command and does all that you ask him within a heartbeat, but today he grows a pair of wings and knocks you lightly on the head with his knuckles when you try to push him away, when you get stubborn with him.

“Do you want to die?” You glare at him but he doesn’t give in.

“You can kill me after I treat you,” he says and continues his ministrations.

“I hate it,” you tell him. “I don’t like it, this…this white.” You try to scratch at yourself but he grabs your hand before you can and your face scrunches up with anguish. “Get it off me.” 

You tug the pearls on your neck and it scatters onto the floor but you don’t care and move on to the white dress, yet Yeonjun stops you once more.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were.” And because he knows the signs, because he’s seen it plenty of times in you, he grabs the sleeve, rips it, then the hem of the dress, and tears that as well without doing too much. “See? Look. Imperfect.” You hate perfect things and seeing that, the tears of the dress, alleviate a bit of your drumming heartbeat, so Yeonjun grabs a pair of scissors to start cutting off bits of your dress.

All your life you’ve been told to be perfect, that everything you do must be under the command of your father. He made you into his perfect little doll, his perfect little weapon, prepared you for the battlefield, prepared you for war.

For the war that he brought, for the war that was his.

Or rather, he was the war itself.

You are a weapon, and weapons do not weep. Weapons are used and weapons do not run off on their own. Weapons are perfect, they fire at the command of their owner, they’re silent when told, and left to waste if they do not do their job.

You’ve never wanted to be left to waste, you’ve never wanted to be dropped back into an empty room, the White Room, and never picked up again.

“I look broken,” you utter a whisper as if shocked at the image of yourself when you look down at the mess of your dress and the white bandages on your body. Your brows are knitted, teeth grinding on each other, fingers dug into the skin of your palm, eyes red but as always, they refuse to cry.

Because weapons do not weep.

And Yeonjun, for a second, almost panics, thinking he did something wrong, but in Mingyu’s wise words, “Just because it looks like I know what I’m doing when it comes to boss does not mean that is the truth. It is far from the truth. There are times when it feels like I’ve messed up, times when I’m about to panic because she responds differently from what I imagined, but you cannot ever show her that you do not know what you’re doing. Ever. Just pretend when you’re in that position, and if you’re good at pretending, she won’t know a thing,” Yeonjun quickly pulls himself back up.

“You don’t look broken,” he puts the scissors down and takes your two trembling fists. “You look imperfect.”

You look imperfect.

Imperfect.

It does the trick.

He sees the way the crease between your brows starts to soften, how your clenched jaw loosens, the way you let him help your fingers unravel from the strength they held digging into yourself, and how your shoulders fall a bit from being so hunched up.

“I look imperfect?” You ask him, eyes wide and puppy-like, darting right to him and though they shake slightly, they look towards him for an answer, for reassurance, to detect any lie, to seek for the truth. But also pleading, also begging for him to say just that.

Even if the lie must disguise itself as the truth.

“You do,” so Yeonjun lies skillfully. “You look imperfect, boss.”

There’s a breath of relief, quiet and subtle, and it comes in a whisper just barely there. Yeonjun keeps you close and presses a palm to your chest, just where your heartbeat strums.

“Now count,” he tells you. “Mingyu says counting is good, right? Count until he gets here.”

“Is he coming?” You ask when he takes both your hands to take over where his palm once lay.

“Yes,” he lies again. He hasn’t made the call yet. “Soon.”

“You have to stay here.”

“I will.”

“No one can come in.”

“I know.”

“Don’t talk to him, don’t let Karl anywhere near me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m tired.”

“Alright, come here.” He pulls you in carefully into his lap, in his arms, and you let yourself be warmed and comforted in his arms once more, this time with your back pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. “The nightmares…they’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll visit. And he’ll try to make me perfect all over again.”

He. Your father.

“I don’t want to be perfect.” It isn’t a command, it’s a plea. A desperate cry for help.

“Then don’t sleep. But count the heartbeats, yeah? Count.” The soft lure of his voice, gentle, encouraging.

With hands still pressed against your chest, you let your ear tune out everything else in order to hear the beat of your heart so that you can start counting them.

One. Two. Three…

It’s fast and you know that you can’t completely count every individual one of them but you try your best to simply concentrate on only that while your eyes stare out at the window a few feet away. The sun shines brightly from the opened curtains and there’s a small little bird perched on the closest tree.

It jumps onto a branch and rests there with its head moving about in different directions.

There are pretty white clouds up above and one of the bigger ones shapes like a castle and you imagine fairies up there, hiding.

There’s another cloud that looks like a cat and another one shaped like a ghost.

The wind blows and your eyes turn back to the bird that flies off.

Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…

It’s slowing down, just slightly.

.

.

.

“I heard what happened this afternoon.”

Kiwi keeps you distracted as he nibbles with your finger. You can’t recall when he’s decided to hang around you rather than his own master whenever you’re around but at least it gives you a reason to not look someone in the eyes.

“Would you like to tell me what happened from your perspective?”

Thirty-something years old. You can’t even remember just how old you are but lately, it hasn’t mattered in the slightest because you feel much younger than what you actually are. Like you’re twenty-something. Even a teen. It doesn’t feel like you’ve aged much.

Your birthday hasn’t been celebrated since your time at the Bangtan manor but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters.

Because you feel like a kid back under the control of your father, having to do what you’re told, obeying his every command like someone who can’t do anything on her own.

Under scrutiny.

“What did Karl tell you?” You pop a question of your own, eyes still unfocused, mind still trying to pretend you’re fine, that you’re okay in a room full of strangers.

There’s only one stranger but a stranger nonetheless.

“He said you provoked him.”

“That’s right.” You don’t deny it and instead nod, expression blank so that Alexander cannot tell what’s going on inside your head. And maybe he does, maybe all of this faking is futile because he’s so wise, but you don’t care. You keep still, you keep vague, and you remain cold.

“Is that so…?” He trails off, perhaps thinking, and you can feel his eyes never leaving you. “And what was it that you did to have provoked him?”

“I told him something he didn’t like.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I killed his best friend.”

“And did you?”

“I did.”

“And who was that?”

“My father.”

He pauses, perhaps because he hadn’t expected that answer but you’re sure he’s thinking back on the moment when you first mentioned your father to him. The “story” you gave him was that your father passed away and was a good friend of Karl’s, though you never mentioned anything else about it. 

And now here’s the answer; you killed him yourself.

“Is that why you let Karl do what he did?” He asks you. “Because you thought you deserved the punishment for what you did? Some people may not regret their actions but they’ll let the person most affected do something against them. Was that how it was?”

No.

No, not at all.

You didn’t let Karl hurt you because you knew he’d be hurt by what you did. You didn’t let him hurt you because you thought he at least deserved to lash his anger out on you. Or that you felt bad. Or that you wanted some sort of punishment. Or that you were repenting.

You let Karl hurt you because you’d always let him hurt you, just as you’d always let everyone hurt you.

Because that was how it always was.

A habit.

Being the weaker one, being the one who would chant the words endure, endure because that was what was instilled in you from the moment Mister Butler died. You cannot get out of your habits that easily, you do not just get stronger because you vow to yourself you will.

You don’t just get stronger and you certainly don’t just decide ‘I won’t let anyone step over me anymore’ and succeed on the first try.

Or the second try.

Or the third.

Even the tenth or hundredth time.

You let Karl hurt you because you were used to it and your body, remembering how it always was before your father died, returned to those habits.

The habits of staying still, the habits of enduring all that came at you.

“Yes.” But you lie because what else is there to say? You lie because there is nothing else to say. Because you don’t want to tell the truth. Because the truth means explaining and explaining means opening up and opening up means trusting and trusting never ends well.

You lie because you have to.

“That is all there is to it.” You put Kiwi down onto the floor and stand up straight, making sure to look in the old man’s direction with your hands held together in a formal stance. “Karl’s story is the whole truth. I deserved what he did, for killing his best friend, for killing my father.”

His brows are furrowed and you sense doubt in his eyes but because he has no proof and because you’re not willing to share anything else with him, he can’t push you too hard about the matter. “Whether that is the truth or not, do you really think a man much older and bigger has the right to hurt a woman younger and smaller in stature? No–” he fixes his sentence, “do you think a man is in his right to hurt a woman?”

“A man is capable of hurting anything that he wishes to hurt. He is in the power to do so.”

“You are strong, Y/N.” He stands to meet your eyes, serious, calm, and collected, but there’s a little twitch in his brows to indicate that he feels a bit frustrated by the situation. “You are capable of dodging his attacks. Even if a man were much bigger and stronger than you, you have the brains to outsmart them. You don’t look like someone who will easily let someone else step all over you.”

No. You are exactly just that. You are still the little girl you thought had changed. You’re still weak.

“So I’ll ask you again, Y/N; why did you let Karl hurt you?”

You hate feeling caged in and right now, despite the fact that only Alexander stands in this room, you feel eyes from all over. And maybe that’s just you being paranoid, maybe you’re just making it all up in your head, but you hate every bit of it. 

Every bit of this.

“I gave you my answer, take it with a grain of salt. Do not pretend to be on my side.” And with that, you turn your back to him and walk off without another word.

Alexander doesn’t chase after you but you feel his eyes.

It’s ironic the way you’re supposed to be the one trying to gain his favor and yet this happens; you pushing him away and putting up your walls. And Asher makes sure to remind you of that.

“Isn’t the whole point of you being here to gain his favor?”

He stops you in the middle of the hall when you’re heading back to the guest room.

“Why?” He asks, genuinely curious, maybe even with a bit of genuine concern in that tone.

“Maybe I’m tired,” you say in a quiet voice.

“Of?”

“Of trying to be likable.”

He hums, considering the answer with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And that young bodyguard of yours,” he brings up Yeonjun, “he may be a kid but don’t you think he deserves punishment for failing you?”

“No.” You reply easily and Asher raises a brow.

“You won’t punish him?”

“I don’t blame him.”

He watches you as if you were a strange being, like you weren’t making sense, though there’s a bit of unease that marks his features, some sort of disturbance that troubles his thoughts and you realize that you’ve said too much so you start walking again.

“My people aren’t allowed to act unless I tell them to.”

But Asher doesn’t want to leave it with just that. “You wanted my uncle to hurt you?”

“Nobody wants to get hurt willingly, Asher.”

“Then what is it?”

You’re talking too much.

“It is none of your concern, that’s what it is.” With that, you pick up your steps and walk into the room before he can push you any further.

Jungkook is in there when you walk in, and although being left in a room with just him should trigger some sort of response, surprisingly you don’t tremble that easily and perhaps that’s due to the fact that somehow, in some way, your body just knows that Jungkook doesn’t pose any threat to you. Perhaps because somehow, in some way, you’ve learned to put some trust in him in just the slightest way through the times he’s spent acting as your guard.

It’s been a little over a month.

Mingyu came here prior to your meeting with Alexander and surprisingly you didn’t need him as much as you thought you did. You think that’s because Yeonjun managed to calm you down well, despite his perpetual fear in the beginning. He picked himself up in time, after all, and was there for you by mirroring what Mingyu would have done.

Maybe in some ways, your right hand man has trained all the Reapers in how to respond to you when he isn’t around.

He took Yeonjun away for something, though right now you aren’t too concerned about it.

“..Kook.”

You feel tired, you feel drained, and that’s why you’ve managed to only call Jungkook by a shortened name.

He’s responsive at the first call, despite how quiet your voice is, and when he sees that you’ve given him permission to come in close contact with you, he doesn’t hesitate to walk over to you.

“Do you need something?”

It’s odd the way you feel some sort of relief he’s as responsive as he used to be all those years ago. Maybe because a part of Jungkook will always remain the way that he always was, maybe that’s why you’ve learned to associate him with a figure that you can put a bit of trust in.

“When are they coming?”

“They?” He tilts his head and when you reach a hand out towards him, he takes it in order to help you because you feel your legs are weak in the knees.

“Namjoon. Them.” He takes you to the bed so that you can lie down.

“In a month or so,” he replies. “You said as much time as you need to gain Alexander’s favor but the latest would be in a month.”

You’re already winning so what’s the point in waiting? 

It’s been a month, over a month.

You just want to go home already.

“Can you call him?”

Jungkook looks for his phone. “What for?”

“Tell him to come earlier,” you say, body turned over towards him, cheek against the pillow, eyes drowsy. “In a week. I don’t…Karl has…I want him dead.”

For a second his thumb hovers over his phone to look back over at you and there he finds, the little girl he’s seen holding her walls up so high not even a plane can cross over, beginning to crumble in just the slightest way.

You look exhausted.

The makeup does not hide the bags under your eyes, it doesn’t hide the exhaustion, how drained you are over all of this. And maybe a part of that is due to your insisting to stay awake when you needed sleep but a big part of it is the mission itself.

Every mission is a little different from the other, but Jungkook has come to know that every one of them involves someone who has sucked all that sweet girl energy out of you. They’ve all done you wrong and it can’t be easy. It can’t be easy having to face all of them one by one, trying to deal with it all, trying to rid of them, and ultimately as a result, hurting yourself in the process.

“Kook?” Your eyes went closed for a second but upon his silence, you open them up again in order to look up at him, and due to your exhaustion, he finds the pretty girl he once loved all those years ago with the smallest voice as if calling out for him in a sense of help.

“I-I’ll call.” He’s flustered, slightly, but hits the call button with his thumb and walks towards the bathroom. “Stay awake, alright? I won’t be away for too long.”

He closes the door behind him to start looking around for something just as Namjoon picks up on the other end.

“Jungkook?”

“Y/N wanted me to tell you to come earlier.”

“Earlier?” It’s surprising on his end because just the night before, you told him to stick to the original plan. “Did something happen?” Of course something must’ve happened for you to change your mind so quickly.

In some ways you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he knows you aren’t someone who will change your mind that easily.

“This afternoon, uh…” Jungkook hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to relay him the news but something tells him you probably expect Jungkook to not stay silent about it to the boys. They share everything with each other after all, and if you really cared, you wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you after what happened. “Karl, you know, after touching her when she felt uncomfortable?” He did mention the incident a few weeks ago to Namjoon already. “Well, Y/N took up his invitation to tea in order to catch up and stuff and I assume she pissed him off.”

Somehow, Namjoon expected that. After all, you hinted at doing something reckless during your call with him. 

“I’m not sure what happened exactly because I wasn’t there but Karl hit her.”

“What?” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “What do you mean hit her?”

“Not just once. She has bruises as a result.”

“Bruises?”

“I should get back to her, she might fall asleep but I’ll catch up with you later.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply before cutting the call off and returning to your side out of worry that leaving you alone for too long won’t be good, and the fact that you might have actually fallen asleep on him.

Surprisingly you’re still awake, though your eyes are as droopy as they were when he left you.

“Can you turn over on your back?” Is the first thing he asks of you and you obey, turning over. The bed dips a little when he takes a seat beside you and that’s when you feel he begins to take your lashes off.

“You know there’s a lot of processes that go into taking off makeup, right?” You tell him when he takes the other one off.

“I know, bub, I’ve done it before.”

Right.

He’s helped you before.

“So just stay still, yeah? You don’t have to do anything.”

You listen to the lure of his voice, as soft as the way he used to speak to you all those years ago, and let your eyes close as he begins to swipe the makeup wipe over your face. It’s gentle the way he does it, almost as gentle as Dasom, and although he’s a little clumsy and isn’t as fast as she is, he does his best during it all.

When the makeup wipe is done, you feel your hair pushed back and a band coming over to keep it out of the way, then some sort of cloth on your chest and tied behind your neck.

Warm water walks over your face. Bits of it, not too much, not too little, so that you don’t get too wet anywhere else, and then the feel of soapy foam begins to rub in circles all over your face. The massage feels nice and you almost feel your consciousness slipping away but you keep awake to the touch of Jungkook’s hands.

About a minute later, he soaks a washcloth into water and starts to wipe the cleanser off you so that you don’t have to sit up and wash it off with water yourself.

It takes a moment but eventually, he gets it done, and then you feel a wet cotton pad swipe over next.

Something about all of this, the steps he memorized either for you from the past or the fact that he now does it himself regularly, feels rather domestic and just…soft.

And in your sleepy and tired state, you feel anything but uncomfortable, lured in with the feeling of basking on top of clouds with your head bathing under the warm sun with light little pitter patters of rain sprinkling over you.

You don’t know why you enjoy this so much despite how different it feels from when Dasom does it for you, but knowing that your trust is beginning to leak outside of Reapers somehow brings a sort of comfort you never thought you’d feel.

It’s a little frightening because trusting is always scary, especially for people that had once broken it, but for some reason, it just…feels right.

Somehow.

And maybe that’s because you know they were never at fault in the first place, that they were just forced into making an unwanted decision. 

Jung Hoseok would probably be in the same position as they were were he to realize the truth all those years ago. If he hadn’t gotten hurt on that mission. If he hadn’t been forced to lay on the infirmary bed in order to recover. If he hadn’t stood away from the six of them.

Even still, as you’ve said it plenty of times before, just because someone doesn’t mean them doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

In the safe space that they provided you, you were kicked out of your own comfort and forced to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.

“Why do you not cry?” His voice keeps you awake and when you look up at him through your lashes, eyes feeling quite dreary and heavy, he finds himself pausing in his ministrations as he stares down at you who’s looking up directly at him.

“Why do you ask that?” You return a question, voice just as soft.

Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face. “Karl…he…” he didn’t see what happened but the aftermath of it is right before his eyes. “And Leehyun and…..” He presses his lips together. “You have..so much to cry for.”

“...Do I now?”

“Is there nothing left?” He asks, a hand brushing back small strands of hair that tries to block your eyes.

You don’t nod because you’re too tired to move so you nod through a blink. “It’s all dried up.”

From the water that he used to clean your face, a drop falls from your lash and trails down your cheek, mirroring what a teardrop looks like, and then you say, “But…if I knew how to cry……do you think you deserve to see them?”

He doesn’t reply but you have your answer.

He doesn’t feel worthy.

This Jungkook and the Jungkook you once knew long ago are the same in the way they always feel unworthy of something. No matter how many times you can assure him, he will always think there is something he can do better, that he is undeserving, that he can never be enough.

But unlike idiots who simply say “I don’t deserve you” and go about their days after breaking your heart, Jungkook says it and steps up to do what he can to try and prove to himself that he can be someone deserving.

He always did all that he could and when there came a point when he looked as if he could finally come to terms with being at peace with his love for you, it was ripped away from him all too soon and now he’s back to square one, trying to prove himself.

Even if it isn’t in the form of love.

Jungkook will always care.

But even still,

“I still hate you.”

It comes out soft, it comes out quiet, and a little timid and a little brave, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out.

If you were wide awake, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable state, you would have never spoken those words to him. But because your consciousness is on the verge of slipping away, you speak them out loud for him to hear.

“I know.” And he replies in the same voice, the same softness, quiet, and timid, and brave.

He doesn’t leave your side even after those exchanges uttered unto each other and you fall asleep next to his presence, next to his comfort, next to his warmth.

.

.

.

Jungkook wasn’t there when Taehyung said he witnessed you sleepwalking but he said that it wasn’t the sort of sleepwalking you’d see in a normal person. He said you looked like a ghost more than anything, and that at times, you’d just stand still in the middle of the room and not move an inch.

No, not a ghost. A corpse.

And now here he is, after endless refusal to sleep and finally allowing your eyes to stay closed, he witnesses what Taehyung had meant.

A corpse standing still in the middle of the room, blanket over her shoulders, eyes staring up at the dim sky outside the window, blank and without any hint of life in them.

He watches you from a distance, a furrow in his brows, with his tongue bitten back and his fists clenched by his side.

Subtle anger lies in his heart, brewing, not at you but towards the world that has made you into the sort of person you are today. Or maybe it had always been this way, maybe you had always been hurting and he just never noticed, maybe it was always like this all along and maybe, perhaps, they made it worse when they left you all alone to fend for your own self.

Feeding you to the wolves.

He’s angry not just at the world but at himself and Jungkook knows that if the truth were to ever leave your lips about what actually happened to you, about all the things that you’ve gone through, he knows that this hatred he feels right now is only but a small fraction waiting to build up before it all breaks into the tiniest little pieces.

Shattering in the way he had broken you.

Shattered.

The world can only do so much but he encouraged it by standing by, by letting it all fall down onto you, by letting himself be convinced that you’d be fine, that everything would be alright.

But nothing turned out alright.

In the days and months and years that followed your absence, they returned to how things were, returned to loving one another, accepting one another, forgiving one another. But in those days and months and years, he can only imagine what sort of events you had to face.

While they had each other, while they always had each other to lean on, did you have anyone by your side?

The Reapers may be one thing, supporting you and giving you their utmost loyalty, but did they ever hold power over the things that happened to you in the way Namjoon could have handled it? In the way he would have handled it?

“Y/N?” You don’t answer him when he calls out to you but he expected that so he walks on over to where you’re standing.

You’re as still as ever, and he approaches with a careful, watchful gaze, hesitant when he reaches a finger over to you. 

A small touch to the blanket, just over your shoulder, and when you don’t freak out or move away from him, he puts two fingers. 

Then another.

Then another.

And when you don’t react to his hand, he proceeds to place a hand on your head and press it towards his chest.

You don’t resist.

“Come on, let’s head back to bed, yeah?” And understanding that you’re okay with him even in this lifeless state of yours, because he knows your body is capable of telling the people you trust and don’t trust apart, he puts his other hand under your knees and picks you up to carry you over back to the bed.

You comply well with him despite your unresponsive self, and when he tucks you back in with the blanket pulled over your chest, he looks back to see your eyes staring straight toward him. Empty yet lonely.

Vacant.

Not at him but through him, and his heart aches a little at the sight.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re alright.”

If Hoseok had been here, would he have been able to do a better job looking after you?

Jungkook wishes he could have been better.