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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 1 month

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Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.

“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.

“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.

He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.

This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head.

Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.

“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused.

It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam.

“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking.

Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain.

“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”

Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you?

“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it.

They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of.

“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for.

—

Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you.

Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you.

“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”

He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.

You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much.

He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary.

“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words.

You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.

“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”

The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.

—

You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away.

You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started.

So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.

Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always one of patience.

You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.

“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.

His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.

You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.

He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.

“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.

You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.

“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.

That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.

“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”

He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.

—

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”

The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves.

Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up.

The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh.

How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over.

—

Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself.

“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do.

He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.

“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day.

Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort.

You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve.

When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”

He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet.

“Doyouhateme?”

The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.

“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”

You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him.

“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”

That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence?

Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face.

—

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did.

The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm.

If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped.

Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged.

He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.

Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.

He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.

“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.

He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.

“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.

“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”

“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”

—

The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted.

The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out.

And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.

“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.

He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.

“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”

You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.

“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.

“No.”

“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.

“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”

“You can’t b-“

Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.

Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.

You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.

You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.

The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow.

No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame.

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.

“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.

“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.

“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not.

“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”

He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?

“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”

He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good.

“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.

Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.

“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”

“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”

“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”

“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”

“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”

The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.

The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.

“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”

Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.

“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”

—

If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear.

You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?

Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.

You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?

His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.

His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread.

He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.

The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself.

They lied.

They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust.

You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you.

“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you.

They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.

“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”

Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out.

You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again.

He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.

“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you.

—

When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.

Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.

He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.

What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?

Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.

The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.

—

He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.

“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.

It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.

“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly.

“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth.

“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.

“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”

“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.

“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.

The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says.

“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…

“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.

“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”

Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched.

“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”

“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks.

“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there.

The older four men look at eachother knowingly.

“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously.

“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”

As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.

Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

Text

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

Navigation

Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

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hobicakess · 2 months

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PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

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love4hobi · 8 days

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J-HOPE & BOOGALOO KIN Hope on the Street (2024)

#hoseok #jhope #hobi #bts #btsgif #btsedit #dailybts #userines #usersky #annietrack #*#hope on the street #took me forever to make this i think that last set broke my brain and stress has got me functioning at 5% lately #but anyway look at them and their little coordinating outfits <3 #i loved that he asked him to be involved in this series like not only was it brave to bring him along to revisit his identity as a dancer #but i think it also made for more insightful moments throughout the doc #he clearly feels very comfortable around him and im glad he was there to give him the advice he needed in those moments #also just <33 all the moments of him watching him dance with so much admiration just like with stars in his eyes i loved it so much #i think he was such an integral part of this series and i wanted to highlight their relationship a lil bit 🫶#and their couple outfits hehehe

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sopebubbles · 1 year

Text

Two

Masterlist

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: the boys try to find your pack and face some painful truths.

Warnings: I feel like I should warn you that mc does not appear on screen at all for this whole chapter, language, honestly it's just pretty fuckin angsty.

Wc: 4k

The ride through the kaleidoscope of traffic lights and street lamps passed in near silence as they got closer to your address. Jungkook didn't notice, as caught up as he was in his own head, but for Yoongi the tension was excruciating. With one hand still on the wheel he stretched the other out to grip Jungkook's arm.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jungkook turned slowly to look at the other. "Talk about what?"

With a knowing smile that wasn't truly happy at all, Yoongi slid his hand down to grasp Jungkook's fist, which had been clenched to trembling on his thigh.

"Whatever is bothering you."

Jungkook rubbed his forehead and sighed, consciously unclenching his fist to let his fingers slot between Yoongi's and take the comfort the alpha's large, warm hands offered. He wouldn't really know where to begin. He'd seen so much shit today, the worst parts of society, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. When he first became a cop less than a year ago, he thought he could make a difference, make this world a safer place for everyone in it. But he'd quickly learned that more often than not he was merely a witness, someone who gathered the pieces to say this is what happened when something terrible occurred and to pray for justice that would likely never come. Sometimes it was just a bit too much to handle or to speak of.

Yoongi knew that all too well. And Jungkook knew the offer to talk was just that, an offer, not a demand. Like Jungkook and Jimin, Yoongi saw horror on a daily basis, and he knew there were times that there weren't words to speak. All the pack knew there was an overwhelming amount of injustice all around them. Jin saw so much evidence of it in his office where he worked within the legal system to try and make a difference. But none of them saw it as viscerally each and every day the way the three of them did.

"I can't stop thinking about the phone call with that woman. The way she sounded…not just disgusted but shocked. She really had no idea that Y/N isn't Sap. How is that even possible?"

Yoongi shrugged. "It's not uncommon for Lykos to try to pass for Sapiens in the workplace. It's usually only betas who can get away with it but," he shrugged again. "You said it was a bar right? Between scent blockers and so many other people, maybe it's easy to hide. She gets better wages, better tips. Even though lots of professions aren't required to disclose a second gender, there are plenty of assholes out there that won't hire an omega. Or an alpha for that matter," Yoongi added.

Jungkook sneered. "I still can't believe there are betas out there who honestly think it's better for them to pretend to be Saps. I could never imagine doing that. To just disown your entire heritage like that?" He shook his head and stared out the window.

Yoongi just pursed his lips. He didn't think he could explain it to Jungkook, nor did he think it would matter at the moment. It was good that Jungkook was a proud Lykos, that he was proud of his family and his pack. But Yoongi knew from experience that it wasn't so easy for everyone. Passing for Sapien was, in most cases, a uniquely beta privilege. It was probably even harder for alphas than omegas in Yoongi's opinion. If Yoongi could have passed for Sapien or if alphas weren't so strongly discriminated against, he might have gone to med school and become a doctor. Not that Yoongi was complaining. He was proud to do his job most of the time, even if it wasn't everything he had once dreamed. Luckily, Yoongi didn't have to continue the conversation because the GPS on his phone told them they had arrived.

The building they were looking at was a dingy, dilapidated brown that hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in several decades. Just as well. The building would probably be better off torn down than renovated.

"Jesus," Yoongi muttered under his breath. Jungkook unbuckled his seat belt. "Wait, let's have a plan. You wanna do good cop, bad cop?" Yoongi asked, gesturing first to his partner and then to himself.

Jungkook shook his head but there was a smile on his lips. "How about a cop and a concerned citizen."

Yoongi sighed. "Sounds lame, but okay."

The pair exited the vehicle and walked briskly up to the front door. The external entrance to the building didn't appear to have any functional lock, and Yoongi's alpha growled in his head at the lack of security as they walked right in the door. Inside, they could hear several TVs playing loudly, probably trying and failing to drown out the sound of the couple fighting on the second floor who they heard as Jungkook navigated them to the unit printed on your license. The mixture of scents in the building was just as loud. Everyone living in the building must be Lykos. When they arrived at #23–only the gold 2 was still present on the door while the 3 was outlined by peeling brown paint–Jungkook rapped on the door with three firm, decisive knocks. Yoongi could practically hear every asshole in the building clench at the sound of what could only be a cop's knock. He had to suppress a chuckle.

After a few seconds, they heard the sound of a chain and several deadbolts make way so that a young Lykos could open the door a few inches. By the smell of her, Yoongi would guess she was a beta.

"Good evening, ma'am. We're sorry to bother you. We're looking for the home of a woman named Y/N Y/L/N. Does she live here?"

"No, sir. She doesn't live here." The woman replied mechanically. Jungkook couldn't read her expression from behind the door.

"Please, we need to get in touch with her family. If you have any information about her," Jungkook pressed.

The woman hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Wait just a moment."

She closed the door on them and Jungkook and Yoongi shared a look of raised eyebrows. The former hoped to hear the slide of the last chain, but seconds ticked by and when she returned the door remained blocked. The woman passed several envelopes through the small space.

"I think she must have been that sad omega that lived here before me. I've been collecting these. Meant to take them to be returned to sender but I keep forgetting. Maybe you can get them to her."

Jungkook took the envelopes, not knowing what else he could do. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

The beta closed the door once again without another word.

Jungkook heaved a defeated sigh and turned back to Yoongi. He flipped through the various envelopes he had been given. Past dues and final notices in among the junk. Just as they were about to walk toward the exit, a door on the opposite side of the hall opened, and a man stood against the door jam with his arms crossed.

"You looking for that little omega girl?" The tall man asked. Yoongi didn't need to smell him to know he was an alpha. He didn't want to smell him.

"Maybe. You know anything about her?" Jungkook replied vaguely.

"Y/N, right?" Jungkook gave a curt nod. "She lived across the hall for a year and a half. Three weeks ago she was evicted," the alpha informed him. Jungkook looked down at the late bills in his hand. That made sense.

"Any idea where she lives now? Or how to get in touch with her pack?" Yoongi chimed in.

The man gave an amused smile and shook his head. "This is not a place for people with packs," he answered with a gesture toward the general state of the place. "People in this building are usually lone wolves," he added. "Not that I didn't offer to help her with her heats, you know? I'm a helpful guy, especially for a pretty little omega like that."

Jungkook swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat while Yoongi merely stared the man down with a stoney look usually reserved for people who walked a little too close to Hoseok.

"Yeah, thanks for your help," Jungkook muttered as he walked past the man's door and down the hall toward the exit. Yoongi held his stance until Jungkook was a few paces ahead and then fell in line.

The drive back home was even more silent than before, and when they finally arrived they were surprised to find the house just as quiet. All five of their pack members were still awake, but no one spoke as Hoseok sat at the entrance to the hallway and stared down Namjoon and Taehyung. Jin cradled Jimin in his lap with his face buried in Jimin's scent gland. Or maybe it was Jimin that was holding him down.

"What's going on here?" Yoongi chuckled as he dropped his keys into the communal dish.

"These spoiled little alpha fucks have forgotten what the word no means," Hoseok replied, arms flexing as the crossed tightly over his chest.

"Is that so?" Yoongi asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, and just in case you've forgotten too: it means you cannot mount strange omegas without their consent, and consent cannot be given in the middle of heat," Hoseok said tightly.

"Jesus, did you jump her?" Jungkook asked, looking at his mates.

"No. We did not jump her!" Namjoon insisted just a little too forcefully.

"But you would have!" Hoseok fired back. "Alpha scum."

"You're acting like we're pigs or something," Taehyung grumbled.

"You are pigs," Jimin offered from behind him.

"You guys don't get it," Jin finally broke in, showing his face for the first time. "It's not like we want to fuck her. It's just a need. We are alphas, it's our duty to breed an omega in heat."

Yoongi shook his head as he joined his fellow alphas on the couch, squeezing in between Jin and Taehyung before pulling Jimin half-way into his lap to get a sniff because yeah, your scent had saturated every molecule of air inside the house. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna fly this time, Jin."

"Look, we are doing our best to control ourselves here. Can you give us some credit?" Namjoon asked, but he only met with Hoseok's stony glare.

"Do you think her actual alphas will be thanking you for your bare minimum decency?" He turned his head to Jungkook. "Speaking of which, did you find them?"

Jungkook sat down near Hoseok and for once made an effort not to let his scent spread out, not until he could level himself out. The omega was on high alert, and didn't miss the pungent edge of mildew coming from him. Hoseok grabbed his sleeve and tugged until the beta scooted closer.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He urged as he ran fingers through Jungkook's hair.

The youngest sighed. "She doesn't live there but she used to. An old neighbor said she got evicted a few weeks back."

"No forwarding address?" Jin asked, fighting to keep his clarity.

"Neighbor said she was a 'lone wolf,'" Yoongi added, voice muffled by Jimin.

"Alone?" Someone echoed as Jungkook rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"That place…it was awful. Even though I see it all the time—I don't think. I come home every night and I let myself forget that there are people out there with no pack, who are struggling just to survive."

"Kookie," Hoseok cooed, rubbing a hand up and down his mate's back.

"We're very lucky," Jin agreed.

"There are so many loners these days. We're trying so hard to get kids into good packs, but it can be tough to find the right fit. And so many of them have trust issues or have never had a pack…they don't know what they're getting into at all. It scares me to think that could have been me," Jimin reflected. It was only a handful of years ago that a chance meeting with Yoongi had led him to his home. Jimin's light scent and lack of a family history often excluded him from groups and from forming proper bonds with other Lykos. He was the last to join their pack, but it was always a blessing.

The sadness filling the room and his mates caused panic to rise in Hoseok's chest. His fingers curled into Jungkook's shirt. "Maybe the neighbor was wrong. Maybe she moved out to move in with a pack!" He suggested with forced cheerfulness. "Did you find any other leads in her bag?"

Jungkook shook his head. "I didn't have a chance."

Hoseok popped to his feet. "I'll go get it from the room!" He paused as he turned. "Keep your eyes on those four," he added before padding to your door and closing it behind him in a futile attempt to keep your heavy scent inside.

"I was just reading an article today about how pack life is healthier for people. Omegas live 8 years longer on average as part of a pack than alone," Namjoon told them just to fill the silence. He was one of the lucky ones, like Jin, Hoseok, Tae and Jungkook, who had only ever known pack life. For them any other way seemed inconceivable. They'd gone from pups to their own mature pack without ever living one night on their own, but even the thought of it ached with unbearable loneliness. Lykos were not meant to be alone.

Hoseok returned a moment later, large black purse in hand.

"How is she?" Yoongi asked.

Hoseok gave a dramatic eye roll. "She's fine."

"Hyung," Tae whined.

"She's so fucking out of it she doesn't know where she is right now, Taehyung."

That did not soothe any of the alphas fraying nerves.

"Maybe we could just cuddle–"

"No." Hoseok cut Namjoon off. "You are not going in there for anything. End of discussion."

He dropped the bag on the floor in front of Jungkook, who opened it and began to carefully sort through your belongings. At the top of the bag was a change of clothes that he couldn't stop himself from taking a sniff of, catching your normal crisp apple scent instead of the gooey apple pie you were giving off tonight. The trace on the shirt was so faint it was almost drowned out among the other smells in the house.

"Let me smell it," Namjoon chirped before he could stop himself.

"Don't you feel embarrassed?" Hoseok returned quickly and harshly, and Namjoon cowed his head because he did.

Jungkook merely set the clothes to the side and continued to search. Next he pulled out two boxes of extra strength scent blockers, the kind that go inside your nose so you don't smell anyone around you, and then a bottle of scent spray that you bought at a Sap store. It smelled similar to your apple, but more artificial and layered with other scents.

"I guess this is how she passes," Jungkook mumbled as he set the items in front of Hoseok, who picked up the bottle and sniffed its top, wrinkling his nose at the chemical smell. Your scent was much nicer than that.

The pack's attention was drawn to a rattling sound before Jungkook pulled out a large plastic medicine bottle. He looked briefly at the label before shaking the bottle and then handed it to Hoseok.

"If she had a full bottle of heat suppressants, why did she go down like that?" Jungkook wondered aloud.

The omega beside him unscrewed the cap and shook a single pill into his hand. "Holy fuck! I didn't know they were this big! How does anyone swallow that?"

"Let me see?" Jimin asked. He was probably more familiar with heat suppressants than any other pack member because they were required in order to stay in pretty much any mixed-gender shelter, and even in many single-gender ones. Hoseok replaced the cap and tossed the bottle across the room. Jimin picked it out of the air with one hand and brought it down in front of him and Yoongi. "Where the fuck did she get these?" Jimin asked after reading the label.

"What is it?" Jungkook asked. It wasn't something he was particularly well-versed in since Hobi had never taken any. And he'd never had any other omega.

"I've only ever heard about these," Yoongi said, taking the bottle from Jimin. "Some omega activists are trying to get these banned. They have mega doses of hormones to stop heats, but they can cause permanent damage to an omega's reproductive system. I've also heard that most omegas don't like to take them unless they have to because the side effects are really harsh."

"I've heard rumors that some of the shelters give them out to omegas who want to stay," Jimin added.

"Is this one of them?" Jungkook asked when he found a crumpled flier in your bag. The paper showed a posed group of people wearing smiles outside a generic looking building in the downtown area. It also stated the hours of operation and contact information. Jimin held out a hand and Jungkook passed it through the alphas to him.

Jimin gasped quietly. "This is the worst shelter in town. The people who run this are fundamentalists who think that Lykos are abominations. They preach that we are unnatural and against god. Kids sometimes come to us from there and have said they were prevented from nesting or sharing beds with others. I'm sure they gave her these before letting her in but-" That didn't answer how you had ended up in your current state.

Jungkook thought he was going to be sick, and he wasn't alone.

"Why would anyone go to an organization like that?" Taehyung wondered, his hand sliding into Namjoon's.

"Some people don't have any choice," Jimin answered.

Everyone sat in quiet thought for a moment until the sound of Jungkook's sob broke from his chest. Six heads snapped in his direction, but only one spoke up.

"Jungkook, come here, baby," Jin said with arms held open. Jimin moved down to sit over Namjoon and Taehyung while Yoongi squeezed to make room for Jungkook. In spite of being a beta, Jungkook was just a little too large to sit comfortably in the pack alpha's lap, but he sat down and let Jin pull his legs over his lap and snuggled into his chest. "Tell alpha what's going on," Jin cooed.

Jungkook tried to calm his sobs, which got easier when Yoongi pressed himself against the beta's back. It took a minute before he was able to speak, but no one rushed him.

"I saw an omega get killed today," he finally said in a watery voice. "He was just a couple years younger than Y/N. He was alone and he was shot by some hateful Sap, for no reason. And all I could think at the time was where is his pack? Why didn't they protect him? But he didn't have a pack. There wasn't anyone to call. And then we found Y/N. And I just…why isn't there anyone to call?"

Jin hugged the man tighter to his chest and let him cry. "It's okay, Kook. Let it out. It's okay. There are four good alphas here and no one is going to get hurt," he assured in a soft voice.

Jungkook sucked in the deepest breath he could before he pulled away and leaned into Yoongi. "Sorry, it was kind of a fucked up day," he said as he wiped his eyes.

Yoongi gave his arm a squeeze, one that said he was sorry there were so many fucked up days, because Yoongi always knew more about them than the others, because sometimes Yoongi and Jungkook would lay in the nest in the spare room and whisper the things that haunted them before they could go to sleep.

"You should have told me before we went out, Kookie. We didn't have to go." Jimin reached a hand out across the alphas and Jungkook took it.

"I'm glad we did though." He didn't want to think what it would be like otherwise.

"Pup, you need to tell us when things are weighing on you like that," Hoseok chided, still rooted to his spot on the floor.

"I honestly can't bring that to you all the time," Jungkook admitted.

"We’re your pack, Jungkook-ah," Jin reminded him. "It's our job to share your burden, especially when it's too hard."

"I'll try."

Hoseok sighed. "It's late. Everyone, go to bed. We can decide what to do next in the morning."

No one argued with the omega. The tone of the conversation had dampened their yearning for you in the other room.

"Are you coming, my love?" Jin asked with an arm outstretched to pull him up.

Hoseok shook his head. "You all go on."

"Honey, you can't sit here all night."

"I'll get some things settled for her and then I'll sleep on the couch. No one will get past me."

Jin pouted. "But it won't be the same in the nest without you. You haven't even gotten a chance to build it up yet. How can we sleep there?" Seokjin always became so codependent when he was sleepy.

Hoseok's resolve cracked just a little.

"Hobi, you go up. I'll stay down here. I think I'd be more relaxed that way anyway," Jungkook suggested. It would be easier to rest if he knew you were safe from danger. Is this what it felt like to be an alpha all the time?

Hoseok grumbled but he was already giving in. "I can't let you go to sleep smelling like that."

With a wave of the omega's hand, all of his packmates gathered around Jungkook and marked wherever they could reach until he smelled like the unique blend of scents that to him smelled like home. When they finally backed away, Jungkook wore a dopey, scent-high smile, and Hoseok could go upstairs to his nest with one fewer worry.

Once they had all gone up to bed, Jungkook took a thick blanket from the hall closet that was too thick to use this time of year and laid it out on the floor in front of your door along with a pillow from the couch. He thought briefly about going in to check on you, but he honestly wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from climbing in the nest to cuddle you. He couldn't stop thinking about the way they wouldn't let you sleep with others in the shelter, or how you had probably slept alone for at least a year and a half prior to that. But Hoseok was right about boundaries and consent, and he could be good if he just stayed on this side of the door. If you couldn't be comforted, you could at least be safe.

Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers

Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadows @toughbook @zariaskz @chansbaybygirl @cryingpages @coralmusicblaze @alex--awesome--22 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @juju-227592 @bangtanflirt @wittyreader @nyrovieeie @welcome418 @guinhosletters @lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @moon-cupcakes @passionandsuga @zvrjkb @m0v3m3ntsblog @kykyxstandler @writingwithmai @moocow778 @ladyalicesbookstore @yoonseokerist @deejay08 @momoasenthusiasticreader @littlestarstinyseven @bittersweetbaylee @irtiqa @im-sinking-in-mud

#bts a/b/o #bts omegaverse au #bts ot7 #bts poly au #bts series #bts fic #bts fan fiction #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts hobi #bts namjoon #bts jimin #bts jin #bts taehyung #bts x reader #bts angst #lone wolf #sopebubbles 🧼

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rexlroze · 1 month

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𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes.

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in.

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day.

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you.

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

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hii! could u do a part 2 to teenagers? it’s a really cute one shot 😭

I had sm fun writing it 😭 omg thank you for this

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

You woke up to the sound of feet, whether it was your dad or hobie you didn’t know. Probably hobie, because Miguel usually left early.

You sat up, wiping your eyes, and sighing. Hobie wasn’t in bed.

You got up from the bed and walked into the kitchen. Hobie was cooking eggs.

“Didnt know you knew how to cook.” You said, with a smile. He turned his head at the sound of your voice.

“‘Course I do. What kind of man doesn’t know how to?” He said.

You laughed quietly as you watched him.

The front door opened, Miguel walked in and passed the kitchen, but stopping for a moment. He stared at Hobie, who was shirtless.

You quickly turned around. “Dad- uh-“

Miguel sighed “Please tell me you didn’t sleep in the same bed.”

“papá, no, no do-“

(Dad, we didn’t-)

“Yeah, we did.” Hobie said, you flinched as he said that knowing what was coming.

“Papá, no te enojes Por favor-“

(Dad, please don’t get mad-)

He sighed, rubbing his temple. He was silent for a while.

“It’s fine. I get it, You guys are 16. Just as long as you’re not-“

“We’re not-“

“Just… if you break her heart, I’ll fucking break you in half.” He said, looking at Hobie who started putting eggs on the plates.

“No need to worry bout that, cause it ain’t happenin.” He handed you a plate and kissed you on the cheek.

Miguel sighed, and continued into his room to grab what he came in for.

“Bye, Miguel!” Hobie said while eating.

“Chew with your mouth closed.” You scolded him.

“And quit calling me Miguel! That’s Mr. O’Hara to you.” He told Hobie, and slammed the door.

“Teenagers…” Miguel mumbled, rolling his eyes.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider man across the spider verse #teenagers hobie brown series

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 24 days

Text

Severance - BTS OT7 CEO au Chapter 16

So did anybody guess what was on the news? I thought it was rather obvious (it’s getting harder and harder to find gifs I haven’t used)

Prev / Next

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You feel your world freeze, the newscasters lips moving but the thumping in your ears drowns her out. Footage after footage of your dates, the three maknaes and you at the airport, date stamped proving you played hooky, there was nothing you could say to disprove the videos, not when in every single one they steal a kiss.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a breath goes in, you’re stuck. You don’t see anything but the screen where the secret you so desperately wanted to keep was aired out for the world to witness. You don’t see Jongin desperately texting Jimin under the desk, what you do see is the channel cut to a newscaster introducing the last woman you ever expected to see, the shock filling your lungs with air so fast it makes you dizzy. Your eyes sting with tears as she starts talking, was this karma? Was this the universe telling you you made the wrong choice, that you should never have fallen for them, that you were too greedy for their love. Was this the price, the consequences?

“I think she’s hyperventilating,” the voice sounds muffled, your ears feel like they're full of burning cotton but at least someone has the sense to turn the screen off. Baekhyun fills your vision instead, hands on your shoulders with worried eyes on your form.

“Cars coming to pick her up, back entrance,” you recognise it's Jongin that’s speaking but the word’s go over your head.

Someone hands you a tissue but you don’t register the gesture until you hear a sigh. Chanyeol gently wipes your tears away, the stern look on his face softening when you look up at him. The sound of the phone ringing sounds so distant, like it was at the end of the tunnel. Jongin answers it before handing it to Junmyeon.

“Namjoon,” he greets through the line, the sound of his tone cutting through the fog you were drowning in. Joonie, you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his arms away from all this, but he wasn’t here. Whatever he was saying though the line made your current boss stare at you with an accusation that didn’t budge.

“We need to get her out without any more commotion,” he says to the others stiffly after he cuts the call.

“I’ll sort out the employees,” Kyungsoo states walking out.

The silence that follows is palpable, the lead CEO breaks it with a sigh, and you know it’s due to the aftermath he would have to deal with because of your decisions. He moves to walk past you, but you grab his sleeve before he can. You try not to flinch under his stare, your hands trembling where they hold him.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as sincerely as you can through a hoarse whisper. He acknowledges your words with a nod before he leaves. You’re quickly ushered to the corridor by the others, the sight of them shielding you like your own personal bodyguards would make you chuckle on any other day, but you were still shaking like a leaf.

All that work, all those years of making something of yourself, all the sacrifices and it came to this. Your life exposed to the world in a way that would cause it ruin. Your future at e.xo was done, no other company would ever employ you, you could never go back to work for bangtan. Everything was gone.

—

“Yeah we’re in the car, we got her out safe,” Seokjin says through the phone while Yoongi drives, his eyes glancing at you with worry.

A question Namjoon asks on the phone had Jin tensing, looking at you hesitantly. Is she okay?

“She’s not saying anything, she’s just shaking,” he sighs, he wanted to say more, how you were staring at the floor despondently, how when Jin tried to hold your hand to comfort you, you tensed and turned away.

The fear in their hearts that you regretted everything you had with them made Jin pull away, all he could do was be grateful they got to you before the media did, and in the tinted vehicle you were at least safe.

“It’s safe to go back to the mansion,” Jin tells Yoongi when he hangs up the call.

The drive is silent, they didn’t know what to say, everytime they tried the words died before they could form. Security was back in full force at their estate, running out any media outlet that tried to sneak close, their lawyers were having a field day. Not to mention the commotion at the office as they walked out, the whispers conjugated together so loud, not even Namjoon’s glare could silence them.

The gates open to the estate, and Yoongi can hear his heartbeat thumping faster and faster in his ears, it felt like they were coming to an impasse and there was no going back. The car slows to a stop, and as he kills the engine all they can do is stare at you.

Move. You had to move.

You could hear a faint commotion outside, the three maknaes running towards the car but a stern look from Yoongi stopped them in their tracks. Worry, anticipation, anxiety, no one knew exactly what concoction of emotions paralysed them, what made them hesitate to reach out to you.

“Kitten,” Yoongi starts softly, “you need to talk to us.”

That made you move, the door opening without a word in return. Your legs work against you, feeling like lead on twigs, a second away from collapsing. You couldn’t speak right now, your whole body felt empty and yet the weight of thoughts in your head made you need to bury it. You wanted your bed, you wanted to hide, and you wanted to be alone.

Yoongi shares a look with Jin, the hurt flashing between both of them at your rejection but they try not to take it to heart. You never wanted your relationship with them made public, not yet at least, you weren’t ready for the backlash, but now the choice was taken from you in the most heinous way.

“Noona,” Jungkook calls for you gently, a sadness in his eyes at the way you were walking with your head hanging low. Jimin holds him back, understanding better than anyone how you were feeling. He used to do the same, when something went wrong, when he made a mistake, he cut himself off from everyone, it would be a mistake to approach you until you were ready, until the voices in your head either broke you or quietened down.

The steps to the front door took so much energy from you, you didn’t think you had any left. You could feel them walking behind you at a distance, and yet it didn’t feel far enough or close enough. Something inside of you was tearing its way out and you didn’t know if you wanted to be embraced through it or to suffer it alone the way you had before so many times.

“Y/n,” Namjoon didn’t get the memo, he tries to embrace you but feels you stiffen against him, letting go immediately to look at your face with worry. “Baby girl, we'll fix this, okay? We-”

You push him away and he looks at you in shock, you didn’t want to hear it right now, you were barely holding yourself together. Voices were pounding inside of your head, the same repeated phrases over and over about how all your work was ruined, it was all for nothing, all your dreams, all your efforts. You couldn’t handle anything right now, you just needed your bed and to cry yourself to sleep alone.

“Y/n talk to me,” Namjoon says sternly, brows knitted at the way you didn’t even look at him.

He blocks your path when you try to walk past him, why didn’t he understand what you needed right now? You hear him sigh, as if his patience with you was wearing thin.

“Baby girl, you always do this,” he says, holding onto your shoulders to ground you, to keep you from leaving him. “You shut yourself down, you punish yourself, you push us away and then you break.”

“You can’t do that anymore sunshine,” Hoseok says standing beside you. “We’re in a relationship, we’re in this together, your pain is our pain Y/n.”

They watch you shake your head, bowing your head down so low as they hear the telltale sniffle that turns into a violent sob. Namjoon is quick to catch you in his arms, hushing your softly, stroking your hair until you calmed. All the while guilt ate him up, this was his fault, he could see it in all of their eyes as they watched you fall apart.

—

The house was solemn and quiet, you had retreated upstairs to your room, Jimin staying beside you while you slept.

“We underestimated that bitch,” Yoongi breaks the silence with what they were all thinking. They’re all scattered around the living room, Jungkook sitting deep in thought on the headrest of the sofa, Yoongi on the seat beside him. Namjoon sat opposite them with Hoseok on the armrest, Jin pacing the room slowly while Taehyung sat on the floor with his face in his hands. The black face of the TV on the wall stared at them, taunting them with what it held inside. The face broadcasted alongside yours and theirs was one that they barely remembered, but she had the audacity to be interviewed by any news outlet desperate enough for a story. They didn’t want to turn on the TV and see her face.

“She signed an NDA,” Namjoon says, a headache forming, “we didn’t think she was going to be a problem.”

“That’s where arrogance gets us,” Jin scoffs.

“Flower worked so hard for so long,” Taehyung says quietly, mourning for you. They all knew it better than anyone.

“We’ll fix this,” Namjoon states, he wouldn’t rest until they did.

“Namjoon be real for a second,” Hoseok sighs, “we might not be able to fix it.”

“No company is going to take her without an agenda,” Jungkook pipes in stoically.

“Or without thinking she’s a corporate spy,” Jin agrees.

“We can’t control everyone and everything,” Hoseok finishes, patting the lead CEO on the shoulder sympathetically.

“And we definitely can’t ignore a problem away,” Yoongi scoffs, staring daggers into Namjoon.

“Let’s not start this now,” Jin warns, feeling Namjoon’s guilt from a mile away.

“What does he mean?” Jungkook asks, feeling confused.

“Namjoon’s been burning threats concerning us,” Yoongi continues accusatively.

“We never opened those letters,” Namjoon argues back, “we don’t know what they contained.”

“Well we know now,” Yoongi says mockingly. He hated when you were upset, the feeling made his own claws unsheath, ready to tear into anyone who was held responsible.

“We don’t know the two things are connected,” Hoseok tries to defend their lead.

“Don’t be stupid Hobi,” Yoongi seethes, “Kitten’s whole career has gone down the drain because of us, what the fuck is she going to do if she finds out?”

“You best hope she doesn’t,” Taehyung snapped, his earlier melancholy now fueled by fear.

“We can’t keep this from her,” Hoseok shakes his head, disregarding the point.

“She’ll hate us,” Jungkook states, terrified it would manifest before his eyes soon.

“She’ll be angry at us,” Jin corrects him, “but we have to tell her.”

“Not now, it’s too soon,” Namjoon says quickly, his own fear warping his judgement.

“You should’ve opened one fucking letter,” Yoongi can’t let it go, all of this could’ve been avoided if it wasn’t for Namjoon’s stupid stubbornness.

“What good is bringing that up now going to do?” Hoseok sighs again.

“We don’t know if it’s connected!” Namjoon yells exasperated. “What we do know is Shin Suran leaked the photos and the story, and she is going to fucking pay.”

—

“So you’re saying the CEOs fired you because you threatened to expose their relationship to HR?” Solar, the newscaster asks her aghast.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to expose their… relationship,” she can’t hide the disgust in her voice at the word, “but I was concerned for Y/n’s wellbeing, I thought maybe they were holding her job over her head until I found out she was only entertaining them to climb the corporate ladder.”

Both anchors were shocked, the information sending them reeling.

“I mean what self respecting young woman would sell herself like that? Y/n was never a team player, or very good at her job but somehow she was always favoured by the CEO’s. It should have been obvious really.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information to unpack Suran,” Solar says. “Aren’t you scared of the repercussions, these are the world’s business leads you’re going up against.”

“I only want to convey the truth,” Suran lies through her teeth. “It isn’t fair that the women who have worked hard and devoted themselves to Bangtan corporations are not appreciated or given the opportunities they deserve.”

“But Miss L/n left bangtan corporations,” the other anchor Hwasa finally speaks after having watched the little snake for so long. Something didn’t sit right with her and this woman’s sickly sweet attitude, it stank of deceit and she wasn’t blind to it.

“I have it on good information that she was sent to spy on the competition,” Suran’s eyes narrow, not liking her tone of voice.

“That’s a wild allegation,” Hwasa replies, every bit the professional. “I hope you have the evidence to back it up.”

—

“Bangtan corporations are under serious investigation after allegations of corporate espionage came from their former employee…”

She smiles at the screen plating in front of her, the chaos unravelling in so many wonderful ways. The Sun was shining despite the winter air, how many interviews could she fit into one day? Many it seemed, and while the day was over there was always tomorrow to cause more havoc to your life. Now she would sit and bask in the TV light, watching all of her fire ignite.

She had only gotten cosy when the doorbell rang to her little flat, groaning as she went to the door to answer it.

“Shin Suran?”

The three piece suit should give away something serious was in the brown paper envelope in his hands but she couldn’t bring herself to show any respect to the figure. She sneered and rolled her eyes, this man might’ve looked intimidating but she was currently on a high from ruining your life, nothing was going to bring her power trip down.

“Wi HaJoon,” he continues in the absence of a greeting, handing her the envelope. “You’ve been served.”

“What?” That elicits a reaction out of her, for some reason she didn’t even contemplate there would be consequences for her actions, deluded into thinking she was untouchable.

“You’re being sued for stalking, defamation and breaking the nondisclosure agreement you signed.”

That wasn’t part of her plan, her jaw drops to the ground and she realises maybe she played her cards all wrong. In the violent web of wanting to destroy your life she didn’t realise all her defences were gone. Maybe he was right after all.

—

When you wake up, the sun begins to set and Jimin’s warmth engulfs you. The feeling is comforting but fleeting, unfortunately real life problems don’t fade just because you’re in his arms. You wanted to bury yourself in his hold, have him take everything away until you were ready to deal with it. Jungkook’s favourite grey sweatshirt swallows you whole, his smell calming your senses, you try to focus on it when your mind tries to swim through the thoughts that wanted you to drown.

The door creaks open, two figures cautiously peaking in whispering to themselves. When Tae notices you’re awake he takes a seat beside you, caressing your cheek in his palm gently, his thumb soothing your skin. His eyes are downtrodden.

Jungkook kneels on the floor next to you, taking your hand in his and covering it with hard kisses, resting his cheek where they intertwined.

You try to get up but Jimin beside you grumbles in discontent, shuffling closer mumbling something under his breath without opening his eyes. A chaste kiss to your shoulder where the fabric hangs off your skin, lets you know he’s awake but refusing to let you go. The gesture brings a small but genuine smile to your face, one that turns into confusion as the commotion downstairs gets louder.

The younger two give each other knowing glances, one you don’t miss.

“What’s going on?” You ask, voice still hoarse from crying.

The hesitation in both of them fills you with dread. Did something else happen?

“They’re just trying to sort things out bunny,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

Despite Taehyung not wanting you to find out, something sickened him at the idea of keeping secrets from you. He knew how the truth always found its way out, and he knew if you didn’t hear it from them, it would have worse repercussions.

“Tae?” you could see a storm in his eyes, a battle between the loyalty to the others and his love for you.

“The hyungs…” he hesitates, Jimin now fully awake and sitting up at his deep uncertain tone.

Jungkook looks at him imploring him not to say it yet, it was going to be too much to deal with so soon after this morning. You grab Jimin’s arm, pulling yourself up closer to Taehyung who now avoided your gaze.

“Guys what’s going on?”

“I’ve been here with you,” Jimin mumbles half asleep, his hair a soft mess on his head.

“Kookie?” you turn to the youngest who bites his lips nervously, doe eyes begging you not to ask him.

“You’re worrying me,” your nerves were shot, the trauma from this morning making you beyond paranoid. What could be worse than this morning, what weren’t they telling you.

“Jimin, Jungkook and I didn’t know,” Taehyung starts slowly, not wanting to put his hyung’s under the bus but he wasn’t going to let them shoulder the blame when they were innocent. Plus when this was over he had a feeling you would ostracise the older four for a while, he couldn’t handle being a part of that.

“Didn’t know what?” you ask tentatively, urging him to continue.

“I still don’t know,” Jimin grumbles, getting annoyed with the suspense.

“Namjoon Hyung has been getting letters,” Jungkook says when Taehyung pauses for too long. He sighs, cursing the hyung’s for keeping this from you when he knew the betrayal would crush you.

“What letters?”

Something ticks in Jimin’s brain, his sleep filled eyes going wide with realisation. The other day in the office, when the hyung’s went solemn, it was to do with that?

“We think…” Taehyung tries not to stumble over his words, “they were threats, about you or us, but we don’t know because…”

Threats? You’re sent reeling, did Namjoon know this was coming? And he did nothing to warn you, or confide in you?

“Because what?” you breathe, your voice heavy, eyes watering as your thoughts ran away from you. Jimin places an arm around your shoulders, trying to soothe you.

“He burned the letters before he opened them,” Jungkook finishes, feeling a deep rooted shame for his favourite hyung, and for selling him out.

“Angel…”

Jimin calls after you as you throw the covers off of you, storming downstairs to confront the men hiding things from you.

“Sunshine-”

“You’ve been getting threats and you didn’t tell me?”

They startle at your accusation, as right as it was, the four of them confounded until the younger three stumble in behind you. All four hyungs glance at them disgruntled and disappointed, this was not the way to handle things, the thought was hypocritical but justified in their minds.

“You didn’t tell me?” Your teary eyes pierce Yoongi with so much sadness, of all of them you never expected him to keep it from you, and for some reason it stung the worst.

“Kitten,” he tries reaching out to you, a vulnerable edge to his voice. He would let you scratch and claw at him until you were satisfied, anything to keep you from looking at him like that again.

“Babygirl it’s my fault,” Namjoon sighs, taking the edge of his hyung and shouldering all the blame. “I told them not to.”

You turn back to him with anger in your eyes.

“Namjoon you’re the lead at work but that doesn’t make you the lead in this relationship,” you snap. “You had no right to keep this from me!”

“I know,” he says, his voice small.

“How long have you been getting these letters?” You ask and he hangs his head in shame.

“Months…” he replies, “since you left the company.”

You stare at him appalled and it wounds him.

“You have the gall to tell me how to behave in this relationship Kim Namjoon,” Your voice is strained through the onslaught of angry tears. “And you keep this from me?”

“I didn’t know what the letters said,” he says as an excuse, and he knows it’s a feeble one.

You shake your head in disbelief.

“I thought you of all people would get it Joonie,” the way your voice breaks cuts through him with shame. “You built everything from the ground up, I admired you long before I loved you. So how the hell could you play with my future like this?”

“Baby girl that was never my intention,” he begs you to understand him now, that he didn’t behave nonchalant with a potential threat, he thought he was doing what was best.

“It doesn’t matter what your intention was! There was a clear right and wrong, and you know it.”

He bows his head again, you were right, he disrespected you when he didn’t discuss the letters with you, you should’ve made the decision together as to what to do with them. But in his heart he thought he was protecting you, protecting your peace and happiness, but all of that was a bubble set to burst.

“We don’t know that it’s connected beautiful,” Jin steps in between you, speaking as softly as he can knowing you were full of rage and sorrow, but he watched Namjoon take the blow and needed to shield him a little.

“We don’t know that it’s not,” you argued back. “We have no way of knowing, because instead of talking to me about something unpleasant, you guys decided to bury it.”

“Sunshine, I get that you’re upset-” Hoseok tries but the look of incredulous shock shuts him up.

“Upset?” you repeat, the strain in your voice carrying tears. “Everything I worked for, all my dreams, are gone.”

It was a struggle to get out every word, having to take a breath between each one, but you were determined to.

“No company is going to employ me, even if they do I’ll be subjugated to whispers and isolation and we know how that worked out last time.”

You sniffle, wiping your nose and tears with your sleeve. You wanted to appear strong but you were breaking down, didn’t they understand what they had done? Didn’t they care? Or were they so comfortable in their gold seats so far above you they forgot about their struggles on the way there?

“I didn’t join your company to seduce you, I wanted to work hard and make something of myself, maybe start my own company one day, but all of that is gone.”

“Kitten,” Yoongi dares himself to try again, to console you even if you pushed him away. He walks over to you, remembering all the times you seeked him out for comfort. It used to confound the others, how Mr Stoic Stone was the one that you reached for, and even though it was unusual for him to step into those shoes, with you it came so naturally. He wanted to be the one you searched for when you needed soothing, he never wanted to lose that connection he built with you, ever. He knew it was a privilege, one he never took for granted.

He hates the way you look at him now, it breaks his heart, those watering eyes showing how truly hurt you were while you tried to control the trembling of your bottom lip, tried to look strong in front of him.

“Whatever you think is gone, we can rebuild,” he takes your face in his hands, kissing the top of your head softly before looking into your eyes. “I am so sorry for not telling you, but I promise you whatever dreams you had will come true. It's just going to suck for a while and that’s our fault.”

“We know better than anyone how hard you work sunshine,” Hoseok smiles at you sadly, regretting not telling you.

“If you want a company babygirl, we’ll get you a company,” Namjoon’s own voice thick with remorse. “Whatever you want.”

“There’s enough space in the office for another desk,” Jimin tries to lighten the mood with a teasing lilt to his voice, but he’s not joking at all. “No one would dare to whisper about our angel CEO.”

You shake your head, removing Yoongi’s hold on you. They didn’t get it. You’ve worked for everything you had, it was how you had always been. You didn’t want to be handed a title you didn’t earn, or have your powerful boyfriends buy positions for you.

“Why would that be such a bad idea, beautiful?” Jin asks softly. “You’re more than capable.”

“I don’t need anyone thinking I slept my way to the top,” you scoff.

“Who cares what other people think, Kitten?” Yoongi sighs. “No one can deny you deserve a CEO position.”

You shake your head again, breathes of humourless laughter escaping your lips. They really didn’t get it. It was so easy to say that when you were untouchable to people’s words.

“You guys made the decision by yourselves to keep this from me,” you state, not looking at them but to the ground. “My career has nothing to do with you, whatever happens next is my choice.”

“Kitten-”

“You don’t have the right Yoongi,” you try to keep the anger out of your voice. “None of you do right now. I need to figure this out alone.”

“Are you breaking up with us?” Jungkook asks in a panic, not moving from the doorway, he would block your exit, he would fall to his knees and beg you to stay.

“No,” you reassure him with a syllable. “I love you, I always will, I’m just angry right now.”

“And you have every right to be,” Namjoon agrees solemnly.

“I just have one last thing on my mind,” you frown, an obvious question was left unanswered.

You face Namjoon, knowing he would hold the answer.

“You destroyed the letters before opening them,” it’s not a question but it sounds like one.

He nods, wondering where you were going with this.

“So how did you know they were threats?”

He hesitates, trying to build up the courage to tell you how he knew exactly who they were from.

“The return address,” Jin answers for him. “It was from the penitentiary.”

The realisation hits you, and for some reason it makes the whole situation so much worse. The accusation in your eyes returns as you gaze at Namjoon. He knew exactly what he was dealing with when he got rid of those letters, and looking at you now he knew he would have to beg for your forgiveness.

—

Bonus scene flashback:

Dear Kim Namjoon,

You haven’t responded to the last 6 letters I have sent, so either you’re not taking me seriously, or you haven’t read a single one. Both choices are not in anyone’s best interest, I don’t think you realise the situation you’ve put me in, I have nothing to lose.

The deadline is approaching for you to transfer the funds and secure my release. I am not spending years in jail because of your jealousy. Enclosed are copies of the images I will release to the media, I bet you’re wondering how I was able to get these when you locked me away.

It seems I’m not the only one you thought you could cross and toss away. For your sake, I hope you make the right choice.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Alexander Pettyfer

“They haven’t responded to a single one of your stupid letters, what makes you think they will now?” Suran scoffs at the news that he sent another.

“Just be patient,” he replies, the usually clean cut male looking rugged and rough. “We need something out of this other than just ruining their lives.”

“Look, the images I got are proof enough about what that whore is doing, I say we release them.”

“Not yet!” The rise in his voice gets the guards attention, and he takes a deep breath to calm down. Stupid woman didn’t know when to listen, it was unfortunate that he had to use her, although he should count his blessings the day she came and visited for the first time with an idea to take the CEOs down.

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