Gamssada (감싸다) – a yoonmin au As one of the most prominent figures in the mob world, Jimin isn't the type to give a fuck about strangers. That all changes when he finds a recruit drenched in the rain and staring back at him with cold eyes and blood-stained hands.

Wonderful cover art by @ɴᴜᴄʜᴀ⁷ ft. 태용 ໒꒱ ․⁺ ♡ This is a commissioned AU. The commissioner picked it up for me from my list of prompts to finish writing the story.

tags: › mafia/mob underboss jimin, bodyguard yoongi › urban setting, angst, graphic violence › dark themes, moral ambiguity › drinking, smoking, drug trafficking, guns › explicit sexual content › top yg x bottom jm, sexual tension › additional tags will be added

Reminders: ‣ Before anything else, I would like to remind everyone that this is a work of FICTION. The author does NOT condone violence and other morally questionable actions and depictions in the story. Please have an open mind when reading the AU.

‣ This story will include gangs, violence, mentions of harassment, minor character deaths, drugs, smuggling, alcohol and tobacco consumption, sex, and political disputes. If you are uncomfortable with the aforementioned tags, please drop the story and prioritize your safety.

✠

"Boss, we found him." Leaning against a dilapidated wall, Jimin takes off the cigarette dangling between his lips and stands up properly to pocket the lighter inside his coat. "Jungkook." The doe-eyed youngest immediately steps to his side. "Gun," Jimin says.

A split second of hesitation flashes across Jungkook’s face before he pulls a 45-caliber pistol from his belt strap. "Are you going to kill him?" Jimin takes the gun and examines the barrel for a second, cocking the pistol as the cold, gentle breeze sways his ash blond locks.

'It's going to fucking rain,' he thinks, frowning. He should finish this shit soon. "No..." Jimin replies and slides his left hand into his pants' pocket, letting the gun dangle dangerously beside him. Then, he walks to the crumpled, shadowy figure lying on the dirty ground.

"If he behaves like a good boy." "Ugh..." The man drags himself toward the wall, slumping against it as he nurses a giant bruise on his left rib, breathing shallowly as he shakily lifts his gaze to Jimin. "M-Mercy. Please."

"Mercy." Jimin chuckles at the word. "You didn't pay your debt and ran away with my money, and now, you expect me to show you mercy?" The man, Kim Yongin, is a notorious gambler in the district. He used to frequent cabarets and gambling dens +

+ before the guy fucked up and accumulated debts he couldn’t pay. Then, one day, the fucker raided one of Jimin’s brothels and took the money like a desperate thug running away from his crimes.

“T’wasn’t your money,” Yongin hisses through gritted teeth. “You stole it from the red light district.” Jimin tilts his head. “I own every roof in that fucking place; hence, you stole from /me./”

"Jimin," one of his subordinates and close friends, Taehyung, calls him. "We retrieved the bags from this guy's hiding place. The money is safe." "Good." Then, turning to the trembling man again, Jimin crouches and levels the other with a dark and steely gaze.

"Yongin. You know what's gonna happen, yeah?" Yongin lets out a shaky breath and winces at the pain erupting from his side. "Block 7, Kirisan Street, 458... Jung-gu." The blond raises a brow. "Kim Yae-ri." The man swallows the blood in his throat. "Make sure she gets a penny.”

Yongin's words irk the hell out of the blond. It’s not like Jimin doesn’t know about the bastard’s private life and affiliations—Namjoon made sure to dig up Yongin’s dirt up to the last remaining fucked up thing in his life—but hearing the confirmation come from the guy himself +

+ doubles Jimin’s urge to shoot him through the mouth. He didn’t care about his daughter when he was busy drying up his pockets, so what changes now?

"You just gave away your daughter's name and address.” The blond presses his lips together. “What makes you think I won't kill her, too?" "You won't." Yongin coughs and splatters blood all over the rough pavement. "There were... words in the street."

"Jimin," Jungkook says behind him, taking a measured step forward. "Don't listen to him—" But Yongin cuts him off. "They said: ‘The lynx doesn't bite a lion's cub.’" The metal trigger under Jimin's finger suddenly hums with life.

As the stale wind blows and echoes like screaming voices in the dark alley, the blond presses the muzzle against Yongin’s left thigh and fires the pistol without batting an eye.

A blood-curdling scream reverberates in the air as red splatters on the ground, staining the rough pavement and the sleeve of Jimin’s suit. “I don’t know what made y’all fuckers think you can act high and mighty on me, but let me tell you this.”

Jimin leans forward to whisper in Yongin’s ear, hearing the other man’s ragged breaths, “Sewer rats like you roam free in /my/ city because I let you. If I decide to hunt down every last one of your kind, you’d all be dead by morning.”

Standing up on his feet, Jimin locks the pistol and shoves the gun against Jungkook’s chest. “Let’s go,” he commands, frowning. “I know you’re sulking, but I received a report from Hoseok,” Taehyung tells him on his way to the car.

Jimin wants to bite back because he’s definitely /not/ sulking. He’s fucking livid. “Hoseok?” The blond slides into the backseat as one of his men opens the door for him. “Isn’t he in Yongsan?”

Sitting on the passenger seat beside Jungkook, who starts the engine to drive the car away, Taehyung informs him, “He is. And he said he found the traitor who broke into the warehouse to steal your stash.”

Upon mentioning that terrible incident that got Jimin’s ass on the line with the chairman two months ago, the blond’s brow twitches in irritation as he pulls out a cigarette stick from his inside pocket. “Did he cut a finger or two?” he asks, tonguing the butt of the cigarette.

“Nah, the guy kicked the bucket before Hoseok could get his hands on him.” The black car speeds along the bridge as lightning splits the grey sky. Watching the pitter-patter of rain on the glass window, Jimin takes the unlit cigarette from his mouth and asks, “Who killed him?”

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know the guy, but Hoseok told me it’s one of the recruits.” Jimin turns his face to the front, intrigued by the news. “Are you telling me that a fledgling managed to track down a guy who gave me a fucking headache for two months?”

Jungkook lets out a light snort. “Seems like it.” “Then, all of you are worthless.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m supposed to have the best men in this rotten city, but now, you’re telling me that a fucking recruit beat all of you?”

“Ya, we’re still the fucking best.” Taehyung huffs. “That recruit just got lucky.” “Beginner’s luck,” Jungkook agrees with a nod. “Right,” the blond scoffs and removes the blood-stained coat, loosening the tie around his neck.

Then, crossing one leg over the other, he tells their youngest, “Step on the gas, Kook.” Interest flickers across Jimin’s eyes. “I’m dying to meet our hero.” "Aye, boss." Jungkook smirks and gives him a little salute before firing up the speed meter.

Jimin is good at hunting people down; that's how he got the name "The Lynx" in the streets, apart from referring to his sharp, cold eyes and ash blond hair. But the thing is, the guy who decided to fuck with him by stealing his junk from the warehouse managed to hide +

+ under his nose for two fucking months. Undoubtedly, the guy got help from a higher-up, someone who knows the nooks and crannies of this goddamn city. Someone who knows how Jimin operates. "We're here."

The blond's train of thought gets interrupted when the car's engine dies in front of a dark alley between two abandoned apartment buildings. He recognizes three of his subordinates standing beside the street, +

+ patrolling the perimeter and watching out for police cars and enemy reinforcement. "Yo." Jimin flicks his eyes to the grinning man who opens the backseat door for him. "You're earlier than expected."

Sighing, Jimin hops off the vehicle with the other man hoisting an umbrella above his head to shelter him from the heavy downpour. "I need to see the guy who handed your ass to you."

"Hey, I'm good at my job," Hoseok complains with an indignant huff, leading Jimin deeper into the narrow and dark alley. "But I admit, this recruit is insane. He was like a fucking hound sniffing the traitor’s trail; it was like watching a detective movie.”

“You’re giving the new guy too much credit,” Jimin tells him, putting the unlit cigarette between his lips and flicking the lighter on. He can finally smoke one to calm his nerves.

“Boss.” His subordinates greet Jimin upon his arrival, taking a step back to make way for him with their heads bowed low in respect. There are new faces in the scene that Jimin doesn’t recognize—probably, Hoseok’s initiates.

They all regard the blond with fear and reverence. It’s not everyday a fledgling gets to see a higher-up in the flesh. Being at the bottom of the hierarchy means they can only do limited jobs, mostly involving filth and grime, as they serve as the Family’s dogs.

“That was our guy,” Hoseok says when the corpse of a man bathed in blood appears in sight. “And that’s the 'hound' I was talking about.” He jerks his chin to the kneeling man beside the lifeless body.

Jimin takes a drag of his cigarette as he examines the profile of the man responsible for tracking the traitor down and putting five bullet holes in his body: dark hair, sharp kohl eyes, thin lips, and pale skin.

A vertical scar runs on the right side of his face, from the top of his brow down to his cheekbone, with the blemish standing in stark contrast to the man’s otherwise faultless skin. ‘A blade wound,’ Jimin surmises.

“Are you punishing him?” Jungkook asks. “Yeah. Told him not to get up until Jimin tells him to.” Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly. “Recruits aren’t supposed to track down people on our radar unsupervised. That’s why they’re called ‘recruits.’”

“Man, you sure got your ass tight when you became the disciplinary and recruit officer,” Taehyung jests, laughing when Hoseok rolls his eyes at him.

Ignoring his friends’ conversation, Jimin grabs the umbrella from Hoseok and takes a few steps forward to crouch beside the corpse, staring across at the recruit who still got his eyes down and his mouth shut.

The whole world falls silent when Jimin opens his mouth to say, “You. Look at me.” And for the first time since the blond arrived, the man’s dark eyes lifted upon his command. “What’s your name?”

The recruit stares at him with emotionless eyes, black and limitless like a void sucking everything in, seeing the world in monochrome despite the picturesque background around him. Jimin knows those eyes.

“Min Yoongi,” the man utters in a deep and low voice as raindrops glide down his cold and pale face, soaking the black jacket and white shirt underneath.

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin begins to say. “We don’t allow recruits to do risky jobs without an officer or a member’s supervision. I could have you kicked out for what you did.” The man sets his eyes down and bows his head in apology. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

A normal and sane person would be happy to get kicked out of the Family unscathed without any repercussions, but the way Yoongi asks for forgiveness and promises not to let the same thing happen again tells Jimin that the man is /desperate/ to get in.

“If you’re a fucking spy, I’m telling you now.” Jimin blows the smoke in front of him. “You won’t live long.” “I’m not a spy,” Yoongi replies, raising his eyes to meet Jimin’s gaze.

Tonguing the butt of his cigarette, Jimin drops his eyes to the dried blood on the man’s hands. Light scars are marring the skin on his knuckles, most of them white and faded while some still glisten under the faint streetlights.

/ “This recruit is insane.” / Hoseok’s voice plays in Jimin’s head. / “He was like a fucking hound sniffing the traitor’s trail.” /

“Why did you join the Family?” Jimin asks, his voice sounding loud and clear under the pouring rain. Then, without a hint of reluctance in his eyes, the man answers, “I have nowhere else to go.”

Jimin’s finger twitches as he feels a familiar emotion lodge in his chest again after so many years, one that he desperately keeps buried in the darkest corner of his memory, one that he loathes with every fiber of his being.

Jimin knew those eyes, and rain was pouring, too, that day.

Spitting out the half-burnt cigarette, the blond stands up and crushes the stick under his sole. “Hoseok.” The recruit officer takes a step closer to him. “Have some recruits go to the docks to dispose of the body.” Hoseok nods.

Licking his lips, the blond continues, “Clean this guy up.” He jerks his chin in Yoongi’s direction. “Then, take him to the headquarters.” “What?” the recruit officer exclaims with shocked eyes.

Turning around to walk back to the car, Jimin orders him, “And be quick.” One of his subordinates opens the door for him, bowing his head as Jimin slides into the backseat. “You know I hate waiting.” ✠

Jimin closes the blinds to eliminate the sight of the pouring rain on his window, puffing out bitter smoke as he enjoys his second cigarette for the night. "What's your plan with him?" Taehyung inquires from where he's seated on the couch across from Jimin's desk.

Grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey on his table, Jimin pours a glass for himself and says, "I'm not sure yet." "Come on. You can't be serious," Taehyung remarks exasperatedly, throwing a hand in defeat. "Since when are you not certain of anything?"

The corners of the blond's mouth twitch up at that. Taehyung knows him very well. "I'm still mulling over a thought. Stop bitching at me." Taehyung snorts and turns his head to Jungkook, who's leaning against the wall beside the door with both arms crossed.

"Help me out here, Kook." The youngest sighs. "Let's wait. You know you can't make Jimin spill a word if he doesn't want to." "Kid knows me better than you," Jimin says mockingly before taking a sip of the bitter liquor.

Taehyung licks his lips and levels Jimin a gaze. "Just don't annoy the old man; you have a penchant for annoying people." The blond shrugs. "What do you mean? I'm a good guy." "Says the devil." His friend rolls his eyes, making Jimin grin.

"The chairman sees Jimin like a son; he can burn the old man's mansion down, and the old man will turn a blind eye," Jungkook narrates as he walks toward the couch to plop beside Taehyung. Jimin hums. It's indeed in his good interest to have the chairman's favor.

When the clock strikes nine thirty-seven in the evening, Jimin hears a knock coming from the other side of the door. "Jimin," says a familiar voice. "It's Hoseok." The blond leans against the edge of his desk and swirls the whiskey in his glass. "Come in."

When the door creaks open, Jimin crosses one foot over the other as he watches two figures approaching him with unreadable expressions on their faces. Then, stepping aside, Hoseok says, "I brought him as you told me." "Good." Jimin shifts his gaze to the dark-haired stranger.

Putting the cigarette between his lips, the blond takes a long drag and asks, "What did you do before you decided to join the Family, Yoongi?" The recruit doesn't speak a word long enough to make Taehyung impatient in his seat. "Recruit, did you lose your tongue or something?"

To Jimin's odd amusement, the stranger doesn't show discomfort upon hearing Taehyung's jab. In fact, he seems blasé and generally uninterested in what Taehyung had said. 'Interesting,' Jimin mentally notes with a small smirk.

"Speak when you're asked a question," Hoseok rebukes the man, frowning. "You're facing Garam's underboss, the heir to the highest seat in the Family." Jimin observes the stranger's perfectly-crafted stoic façade, searching for any crack in his emotionless expression. None.

Usually, Jimin would have already put a bullet into the bastard's skull who dared waste his time like this. But there's something inexplicably mysterious and /interesting/ about the stranger that fires up Jimin's nerves. He's curious about this man named "Min Yoongi."

After a few seconds of wasting his precious time, Jimin watches as the recruit lifts his face to stare into his eyes, giving the blond a clear view of the ragged scar running down his right eye. Then, Yoongi utters, "I got discharged from the military."

A split second of pin-drop silence permeates the air before Jimin sees a blur of movement behind the recruit. Then, in the blink of an eye, two loaded pistols are pointed at Yoongi's back, with Taehyung and Jungkook scowling and standing at point-blank range behind him.

"Are you one of General Seong's lackeys?" Taehyung asks with his finger hovering over the trigger. "A spy," Jungkook hisses out, his face oozing with distrust. "Hey, let's all calm down." Hoseok attempts to extinguish the tense situation. "Hear me out."

"Did you know about this?" "Yes," the recruit officer answers Taehyung. "I wouldn't have accepted this guy as a recruit if I knew he was a threat to us." During the entire exchange, Jimin doesn't stray his eyes off Yoongi as he observes the apathetic exterior of the man.

Yoongi doesn't even bat an eye while he's held at gunpoint.

Tasting the nicotine on his lips, Jimin tilts his head slightly to the side and utters, "Tell me, Yoongi." His three subordinates all look at him. "What would an ex-military man do in a situation like this?"

The recruit stares at him quietly for a few seconds before opening his mouth to say in a calm and deep voice, "A soldier must always assess the situation he's in: whether combat is feasible or not." His damp hair sways a little when he shifts his weight. "Well, is it?"

Then, without turning around to see how far Taehyung and Jungkook are behind him, Yoongi declares, "Yes." Jimin feels something stir in his gut upon hearing that answer.

With his arms crossed, Jimin takes another drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in front of him. "Are you telling me you can escape two fucking guns aimed at your head?" "Yes." "How?" Yoongi's fingers clench into loose fists. "I can show you." The blond's mouth twitches.

"Stop yapping nonsense, or I'll blow your brains out," Taehyung threatens the recruit. Jimin lifts a hand. "Lower your guns." "But–" Jungkook tries to protest, but the underboss throws him a warning glare. "I don't like repeating myself, Kook."

With jaws clenched, both men lower their guns at Jimin's command. "Min Yoongi." Jimin puts the cigarette out on the ashtray. "Starting today, you will be my personal bodyguard." "What?!" Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok exclaim in unison.

"Have you lost your mind?" Taehyung calls out. "You can't just trust him like that! He was part of the army," the youngest supplies. "Jimin," Hoseok tries to persuade him. "I know I'm a great judge of character, but this is too much. +

+ You can't just allow a /recruit/ in your personal space. You're the fucking heir to the Garam! What if something bad happens to you–" "I've made up my mind." The blond walks toward the stranger and reaches out to touch the earth-green jacket that Hoseok lent him.

Staring at Yoongi's kohl and emotionless eyes, Jimin licks his bottom lip and announces with finality in his tone, "From this day forward, Min Yoongi will be under my supervision and protection." Yoongi parts his lips as Jimin continues to say, "I'm taking him under my wing." ✠

Jimin sits on the curved sofa facing the giant wall aquarium in the private lounge. It has always been his favorite place in the entire building since he requested the chairman to install the massive aquarium in the headquarters.

Since he was a child, he’s always been fascinated by marine life no matter how small they are. If things were different, he was convinced that he could have actually been a marine biologist or an ocean researcher.

‘Not in this lifetime,’ he thinks, swirling his wine glass, as the bitter sting of an unmet, silly childhood dream turned into a numb afterthought ever since he saw the ruthless reality of the world he’s living in. “Taehyung. Jungkook,” he says. “Leave us.”

When the door closes, Jimin looks at the aquarium glass to watch the reflection of the man standing behind him, bathed in blue and dark shadows. “My room is on the other side of this aquarium. You can see through the glass if you look close enough.”

A moment of silence. “Do you like sharks, Yoongi?” he asks, watching a blacktip reef shark swim right in front of him. “I’m not familiar with them,” comes a deep voice a few feet away from him. “Come closer.”

Jimin hears the recruit’s footsteps approaching him, and once the man is standing in front of him, staring at him with those dark, emotionless eyes, the blond utters, “Look at them.”

As the recruit obeys, he adds, “Fearsome-looking creatures: sharp teeth, black beady eyes, huge built—the apex predators in the ocean. Because of their appearance, people are afraid of them.”

The reef shark swims down to the sandy bottom of the tank. “But they’re docile creatures,” Jimin says as he watches the shark rest together with two of its kind. “A misconception, really.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “If you don’t taunt or starve them, they won’t bite your arm.”

He flicks his gaze to the man. “Odd, because they remind me of you.”

Taking a sip of the bitter liquor, Jimin sees Yoongi turn his face back to him, his pale skin painted with the calm rippling water. “You weren't lying when you said you have nowhere else to go.”

Yoongi remains silent, and Jimin tilts his head in curiosity. “But you weren’t telling the whole truth.” Crossing his right leg over the other as he drapes an arm over the backrest of the sofa, he demands, “I’m asking you again: Why did you join Garam, Yoongi?”

For a moment, as the huge manta ray swims right past Yoongi, engulfing him in momentary shadow, Jimin thinks he saw a slight flicker of /emotion/ in the bodyguard’s eyes, just as fleeting as it appeared. What was it?

“I’m looking for someone.” The answer causes Jimin to lift a curious brow. “And that person you’re looking for is in the Family?” “No.” “Someone you had a scuffle with, then?” The bodyguard falls silent. 𝘈𝘩.

“So, you had a fight with this person, and you joined the Family to get closer to them.” When Yoongi doesn’t speak a word, Jimin smirks and downs his wine in one go. Bull’s eye.

As the liquor leaves a bitter trail in his throat, Jimin places the empty glass on the table and looks at the man with discerning, dark eyes, uttering with sheer certainty, “You want revenge.” And there it is again. That fleeting emotion in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Who?” Jimin tries to ask. It would be prudent to assume that Yoongi would ignore the question regardless of their status. It’s a piece of vital information that could mean the recruit’s demise if Jimin were like the other bastards in the mob world. But he’s different.

At least, he tries to be. He’s ruthless to his enemies, but he doesn’t pull the trigger without reason. But despite that, he’s not a fucking saint. In the end, his hands are marked with red just like the rest of them.

When Yoongi doesn’t answer, Jimin tells him, “I saw something in you, Yoongi. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. Honestly, it’s fucking annoying.” He snorts lightly, holding the other’s intense gaze. “I could see my old self in you.”

When the recruit parts his lips, not expecting those words to come out of the blond’s mouth, Jimin tells him, “Closer.” Without a word, the man takes a few steps toward him. “Kneel.” Unblinkingly, Yoongi drops to one knee and lowers his head in front of Garam’s heir.

Jimin leans closer and reaches out to put a finger under the man’s chin, lifting his face to take a good look at the scar marring his skin. “Nothing is sweeter than choking the life out of your enemies,” he says in a low and quiet voice.

“If they break your bones, cut their limbs.” He gazes into the bodyguard’s kohl eyes. “Make sure they don’t stand again.” Yoongi’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, basking in the eerie glow of the rippling blue water behind him.

Then, he hears the man say, “Seong Il-Myeon.” The blond blinks. “The general of the Armed Forces?” The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw twitch as he nods stiffly. Jimin resists the urge to laugh. He doesn’t like that old, cunning toad either.

“So, you wanna kill your former commander, is that it?” But to his surprise, instead of instilling silence like before, Yoongi opens his mouth to say, “No.” A brief pause. “I want to see him suffer.”

Jimin slowly retracts his finger as he watches that strange emotion engulf the man’s eyes again—a distinct flicker this time, crackling at the edges with low flames. ‘Anger,’ Jimin surmises. It was anger.

“I want to incapacitate him on all sides. In every aspect.” The blond narrows his eyes. “You want to ruin him. Not just physically, but mentally, socially, politically…”

Yoongi swallows as he presses his lips together, restraining the wild and tumultuous emotion inside him. “I…” He lets out a quiet breath and utters in a low and icy voice, “Want to make him regret ever walking this world.”

After taking a moment to digest Yoongi’s words, Jimin sets his lips into a thin line and asks, “What did he do to you?” The flames in Yoongi’s eyes burn brighter, and then, he utters, “He took somebody from me.” ✠

Cold. It's the first thing that Jimin feels when his eyes drop to his feet, watching the ocean tides engulf his legs as the rough sand tickles the soles of his feet. There's an old stuffed toy clutched inside his arms, the velvety fabric threadbare and grubby.

Blinking as he stares at the vast ocean ahead of him, Jimin raises the shark toy and swings it left and right in the air. "You will swim someday," he says to no one, utterly alone in the sandy shore. It was his tenth birthday yesterday.

Then, out of nowhere, the waves start to crash harder against his legs as the sky turns grey, the rain clouds swirling above his head as if brewing a furious tempest, with the once blue ocean turning dark as light slowly dies on the horizon. A huge tidal wave towers over him.

Jimin tries to run but his feet are stuck under the sand. He screams for help but his voice gets drowned by the angry wind blowing across the sea. He's scared. Trembling. Alone in the vast ocean. Hugging the toy tightly to his chest, Jimin closes his eyes.

But before the giant waves hit him, a bright flash of light appears in front of him, and his eyes snap open as sweat glides down his neck. He stares at the bedroom ceiling unblinkingly for a few seconds, listening to the loud and rapid beating of his heart inside his chest.

He dreamt of it again. Groaning, Jimin pushes the blanket away and slides his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand down his face as sweat drenches the fabric of his night shirt. It's been a while since that ocean appeared in his dreams. Is he feeling unsettled again?

Two knocks. Lifting his gaze to the closed bedroom door, Jimin says, "Come in." Jimin was expecting to see Taehyung because the guy always goes to his room to help him get dressed each morning, but to his surprise, it is Yoongi who emerges from the other side of the door.

The man is now dressed in black suit, much like everyone else in the Family. His dark hair sways with each step he takes, his kohl eyes steely and emotionless in the early dawn. "Boss," he utters, standing a few feet away from the bed. "I came to check on you." "Why?"

Then, the bodyguard tells him, "I heard you groaning in your sleep." The blond parts his lips as a sudden thought strikes him. "Were you standing all night behind that door?" Yoongi nods, confirming Jimin's suspicion.

Sighing, the blond stands up from the bed and takes off his sweaty shirt. "You're my guard, yes, but you're not a fucking statue." Tossing the piece of clothing to the bodyguard who catches it with deft hands, Jimin makes his way to the bathroom and says, "Rest when I'm asleep."

"Yes, boss," the man replies with a slight bow of his head. Jimin takes a quick shower and wraps himself in a white robe, drying his blond hair with a towel before stepping back into the bedroom. And to his amusement, his dark pinstriped suit is already neatly laid on his bed, +

+ waiting for him. "Did Taehyung tell you to do this?" Wordlessly, Yoongi gives him a short nod. "That's good news for you." Jimin snorts lightly as he pulls the ribbon of his robe. "That guy is starting to loosen up around you. Just don't piss him off."

After untangling the ribbon, Jimin's hands freeze on the hems of the robe when he hears the man say, "Boss, let me." Turning around to look at the man, the blond watches in silence as Yoongi reaches out to take the robe off his shoulders.

"You know I'm naked, right?" It's not like Jimin cares if Yoongi sees his bare body; he's more curious to see if there will be any hint of reaction on the man's stoic face. Will he become aroused when he sees Jimin's naked body?

"Yes," Yoongi answers, kneeling on one knee. "Please lift your leg." Jimin does so without a word, keenly watching as the man pulls a pair of boxer shorts up to his hips without showing any crack of emotion on his face.

Curiosity gets the best of him, and the words are out before Jimin could stop them, "Don't you find me attractive?" The bodyguard turns to the bed to grab the white long-sleeved shirt. "I do." One corner of Jimin's lips twitch up upon hearing that answer.

As Yoongi starts buttoning up his shirt, Jimin tilts his head and says, "There's a naked and attractive guy merely an inch away from you. Don't you feel aroused?" After fixing the last button, the bodyguard takes the trousers from the bed and silently asks Jimin to lift his leg.

"I haven't thought of it," the man says in answer to the blond's earlier question. "Are you gay?" "Yes." Jimin hums and lets the man dress him quietly after that. Yoongi may be stoic and inscrutable, but Jimin finds out that the man is glaringly honest about everything.

As silence permeates the air in the bedroom with Jimin fixing his cuffs in front of the full-body mirror, his gaze catches the bodyguard's reflection looking at him, and he says, "You're staring." Caught in the act, Yoongi lowers his eyes in apology. "I'm sorry, boss."

"Do you have something to ask me?" Yoongi briefly presses his together before saying, "No, sir. I was curious." "About what?" "Why you don't have any tattoos." The unexpected statement makes Jimin turn his head around. "And why should that be a subject of your curiosity?"

"I..." The man averts his eyes. "I've always thought people in the mob world wear tattoos as a symbol of pride and power." Jimin can't refute that, because there's truth in the man's claim. A lot of people, especially those in the higher ranks, +

+ have different tattoos inked on their skin for different purposes: personal, political, symbolism, power, and authority. It's a common practice in the mob world that the blond had come to terms with. But the thing is, Jimin has never been good at conforming with the norm.

Tying the black tie around his neck into a perfect knot, Jimin tells him, "I've had enough marks on my skin when I was younger; I don't need more." Then, he turns around to look at the bodyguard. "If you're done being 'curious,' then let's go to my office."

Jimin walks out of the bedroom without waiting for the other man to follow him.

Jimin is expecting to see Taehyung and Jungkook in his office, having a cup of coffee or lounging around until the blond gives them something to do. But when he steps into the room with a certain man following shortly behind him, Jimin's brow raises in surprise +

+ when he sees the familiar tall and lean figure of a man sitting on the sofa with his two subordinates, flipping through the pages of a book that Jimin hasn't seen before. "You're back early," Jimin says, tucking both hands into his pockets as he walks toward his office desk.

The man in question pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Good morning to you, too." "I thought you'd be gone for at least a month." The blond leans back against the edge of the table, folding his arms over his chest. "But you came back a lot earlier, Namjoon."

"You underestimate me, Jimin," the other man, Namjoon, lets out a light snort. "You know I'm pretty damn good with my job." "Damn right, he is; Joon got what you asked for," Taehyung announces, taking a sip of his chamomile tea because the guy fucking hates caffeine.

Now, that catches Jimin's attention. "Alright. Let's hear it." But instead of narrating his piece, Namjoon leans back against the sofa and throws a thumb over his shoulder. "Before I start, who's that guy standing like a statue by the door?"

Jungkook snorts. "That's Yoongi; boss's new bodyguard." "Bodyguard?" Namjoon glances briefly in Yoongi's direction before throwing a questioning stare at Jimin. The blond knows that look: 'What were you doing while I'm gone?'

"He was Hoseok's recruit. He amuses me, so I took him in," Jimin explains with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. It's not a lie per see; Yoongi /does/ amuse him in an odd and peculiar way that he still can't quite place. But the thing is, he's not telling the whole truth.

And Jimin knows better than anyone that he would have a better chance of winning the fucking lottery than trying to fool Namjoon. "Jimin, I'm your advisor, so you should have informed me before making a crucial decision like this." He sighs. "We'll discuss this matter later."

Trying not to groan at the prospect of possibly listening to another boring, hour-long lecture from the man, Jimin crosses his foot over the other as he waits for the advisor to give him his report.

"You asked me to look into the upcoming transaction, and, well, I found out a few things." Namjoon takes his spectacles off and wipes the glasses with a handkerchief. "There are rumors that the other Family involved in the transaction is Seulgi."

"Seulgi?" Taehyung frowns. "So, it's going to be a large-scale deal since we're going to involve Busan." "Yes." Namjoon nods as his expression grows dimmer. "The chairman isn't saying anything yet, because everyone knows Garam's bloody history with Seulgi."

"The Blood War," Jungkook says, pressing his lips together. "Forty years ago." The former bosses of Garam and Seulgi were half-brothers who had a territorial dispute over Daejeon. Those were the darkest times of the mob world, not only politically +

+ but also in terms of business, power, and legal citizenship. The mass killings and political foul plays got the government involved, and the Mob Families were almost exiled from the country.

Through a written decree ratified by all Family heads, Daejeon was pronounced as a neutral territory that could never be owned by any Family. "It will create a stir if people find out about the transaction. That's why the old man is keeping his mouth shut," Jimin muses.

"It won't stay a secret for long. There are already rumors about Seulgi's unusual activities in the docks." A crease appears between Namjoon's brows. "Words in the streets say that unidentified ship cargos are going in and out of Busan since last week."

"So, they're smuggling drugs from another country, huh?" "Countries," Namjoon corrects Taehyung. "My informant told me that the contraband might be coming from China, Japan, and the Philippines. The market price for the pure powder will skyrocket because of this importation."

Upon hearing the advisor's words, Taehyung lets out an incredulous laugh. "There's no way those ship cargos could go back and forth Busan without the navy knowing it. Unless–" "Unless someone is backing them up," Jimin finishes the statement with a dark scowl. It must be /him/.

"Which leads to my second discovery." Namjoon hoists two fingers up. "It seems General Seong Il-Myeon has invested a huge sum of money in this transaction." "That greedy old toad," Taehyung remarks with vile disgust palpable in his voice.

Jimin's gaze flicks to the man standing by the door, watching as sudden tension creeps into his bones upon hearing that name. General Seong has been a great help to Garam when it comes to pulling the wool over the government's eyes, +

+ that's why Chairman Cha tries to keep the Family in the general's favor. Without a doubt, that's the main reason why Yoongi chose Garam. Because of the Family's close ties with General Seong.

"Jimin." The blond lifts his eyes to meet the advisor's gaze. "When do you think Chairman Cha will tell you about this? You knew him the longest." Licking his lips, Jimin supposes, "When it's time to clean his shit and clear the way for him."

He is the chairman's heir, but Jimin is also Garam's second-in-command. As the underboss, it's his job to do the dirty work for the chairman. A large-scale deal like this would warrant a lot of manpower to make sure there won't be any interference +

+ from the government, or worse, from the other Families. If this transaction becomes a success, then there's a huge possibility that Garam and Seulgi will monopolize the market for the next several years.

It's not just about selling a fucking white powder to fuel up rich people's addiction; it entails business, money, and /power/. And in the mob world, power is the best weapon against hungry vultures.

"There's another thing..." Namjoon fixes his spectacles, training a serious gaze on Jimin as he opens his mouth to say, "I got intel about who was behind the warehouse incident." The blond's jaw clenches. "Who?" he asks in a dangerously low voice.

"The traitor who decided to steal from you was associated with Il-kwan," Namjoon tells him, and Jimin feels the familiar rush of blood in his veins. Il-kwan is the leader of one of the small gangs that Jimin hired to sell his junk in the streets last rollout.

However, a feeble and insignificant gang like Il-kwan's wouldn't be able to pull a shitty stunt like that if there was no one feeding their ego and backing them up. It could be a scheme to trick Jimin, but he still needs to know for sure. Fucking hell.

Irked, Jimin runs a hand through his ash blond locks. "You give a rat one taste of meat, and it will bite the hand of who feeds it." He lets out a humorless chuckle, his dark eyes glinting menacingly. "Let's go." Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon stand up at once to follow him.

Halting near the door to look at their new member, Jimin says, "Taehyung, give him a gun." Without a word, his friend pulls a 45-caliber pistol from his holster and offers the deadly weapon to the bodyguard.

"I'm sure you know how to use it, but I had to make sure." Jimin stares into the man's dark eyes. "The guy you killed yesterday, was it your first time?" Yoongi's gaze drops to the pistol and clicks the button to check the number of bullets loaded in the magazine.

With deft hands, the man pushes it back inside and lowers the pistol on his side. Then, he lifts his eyes to hold Jimin's measuring gaze and says, "No." The blond feels a troubling stir in his gut upon hearing that answer.

"Good. But I have to warn you." Jimin pulls out his own gun, a silver Les Baer Stinger with a polished wooden grip. "Killing terrorists is different from an all-out dogfight between lowlifes. It's messy, bloody, and infuriating."

He examines the steely barrel of his pistol, looking at the wobbly reflection of the bodyguard's face on the polished metal. "There will be foul play. A fucking fight to the death with no honor." Then, he shifts his gaze to Yoongi. "Are you prepared to die for that kind of life?"

Jimin has always thought that Yoongi isn't suited for this kind of life, that he will always bear the honor of being a part of the military as long as he lives. Yoongi protects people; Jimin does not. Yoongi killed to preserve peace, while Jimin pulls the trigger to create chaos.

They're walking on opposite poles, living a totally different life. But despite that, seeing Yoongi under the pouring rain with hatred in his eyes, fueled by desperation for revenge, moves something deep inside Jimin.

Perhaps, by taking Yoongi under his wing, Jimin could prevent something drastic from happening. Maybe, if Jimin is here to oversee his actions, Yoongi won't become a heartless demon like him. "Yes," the bodyguard answers without a shred of hesitation.

As momentary silence settles between them, Jimin takes a deep breath and nods, tucking his gun back in its holster. "Let's get going then." Jungkook opens the door for him, and walking out of the room, he tells Yoongi, "There's no turning back when the first bullet is fired." ✠

It’s barely mid-afternoon, but Jimin has already smoked three cigarettes on their way to an abandoned factory in Mapo. And now, as he listens to the last shot of a pistol coming from the second floor, Jimin pulls the stick from his mouth and blows the bitter smoke above his head.

After a minute or two, Jungkook emerges from the factory with blood staining his clothes and splotched across the left side of his face. “Messy?” Hoseok asks, polishing the barrel of his gun with a handkerchief.

“Yeah.” The youngest wipes the red smear on his face with his sleeve. “Fuckers tried to fight back. We have five casualties, but not too fatal.” Jimin nods. “Take them to Seokjin.” “Ah, Doctor Kim.” Namjoon chuckles. “You’ll get scolded again for this.”

Snorting at the advisor’s remark, Jimin grabs his pistol from the holster. “Where’s Il-kwan?” “Taehyung dragged him to the ground floor.” “Alive?” “Yeah.” Jungkook shrugs. “Left him breathing for you.”

“Good.” Putting the cigarette back between his lips, Jimin pockets his left hand and walks toward the abandoned factory. “Don’t let the boss out of your sight, got it?” Jimin hears Hoseok’s command to Yoongi, who nods silently in return.

The bodyguard paces a few steps ahead of Jimin, looking around the dilapidated place with a keen eye for any sign of danger or threat that might come the blond’s way. “Argh!”

Taehyung kicks an injured man to the floor, sighing heavily as the other clutches at his bleeding arm with a wild and agonized expression on his face. “Filthy rat,” the brunet spits out. “Leave some for me,” Jimin jests, grinning. “Don’t get all the fun, Tae.”

His friend huffs and moves behind the man to eliminate every route for escape. “Fucker got a bit mouthy, so I had to teach him a lesson.”

Humming, Jimin takes a step closer and crouches in front of the man, his gun dangling between his thighs as he trains a dark and serious gaze on the other’s pale face. “You look like shit, Il-kwan.” “B-Boss!” the man stutters, his whole body shaking with fear.

“Heh…” Jimin muses, rubbing his chin as he feigns a thought. “It’s funny how you still call me boss after messing with me.” “I didn’t! I swear! Please.” Il-kwan desperately begs. “S-Someone told me to do it!”

That last bit of information catches Jimin’s interest, and he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke to the other man’s face. “Who?” Realizing his mistake, the tremors wracking Il-kwan’s solid frame intensify, and the man shakes his head wildly.

“I-I can’t tell. They’ll kill me!” Irked, Jimin’s brow twitches. “And you’re not afraid that /I/ could kill you first?” “No, please! Boss—” Il-kwan panics and attempts to reach out a hand to hold Jimin.

But before the man could grab him, the muzzle of a black pistol presses firmly against Il-kwan’s forehead, halting him from his movements. “Stay back,” comes a low and deep voice in front of Jimin.

Tonguing the inside of his cheek, the blond tilts his head and says, “See? This scary guy will kill you if you don’t spit out what I want.” Groaning in pain, Il-kwan swallows hard and bites his bottom lip until blood oozes from the wound.

“Three months ago, I got an anonymous message from someone. It was a small piece of paper tucked secretly inside a packet of cocaine.” “What did it say?” asks Jimin.

Reluctantly, Il-kwan opens his mouth to confess, “It said: ‘Garam. Warehouse 4. Take a few bags, and I’ll pay you double.’” “Where did you get that packet of cocaine?” Namjoon asks, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Itaewon.” “From whom?” “A peddler.”

Jimin lets out a disbelieving huff. “Peddler? Not from the distributor?” “No.” Il-kwan winces. “The guy said—” “Get down!”

The moment Jimin hears Hoseok’s shout, ten figures appear behind the railings on the uppermost floor, all pointing their guns at Jimin and the others, and then, everything happens in a blur.

A strong arm embraces Jimin and tugs him harshly toward one of the broken machines in the factory. The rusty metal clinks as bullets hit the surface, filling the entire place with gunshots until Jimin’s ears ring painfully.

“Fuck!” he curses out loud. Yoongi is hovering over him, shielding him from any stray bullet that might find him accidentally. The man's jaw is clenched as he maintains a protective barrier for the blond, his gun hoisted and ready to fire when the situation calls for it.

“Damn fuckers!” Taehyung emerges briefly behind the tank to fire two shots at their assaulters. His bullets meet flesh, and one of the men on the top floor falls over the railing—dead. “Il-kwan’s escaping!”

Jungkook’s voice alarms Jimin, and his vision shifts to the wounded man limping toward the back door. His blood boils as unrestrained rage takes over him, causing Jimin to shove the bodyguard away and take cover behind any barrier he can find until he reaches the back door.

“Boss!” Yoongi’s voice gets swallowed by the deafening sounds of gunshots inside the factory. When someone blocks his path and aims a gun at his head, Jimin dodges the bullet and hits the man’s stomach hard with a fist.

Twisting on his foot, Jimin moves behind him and lands a blow on the assaulter’s neck with his elbow. When the man crashes to the floor, Jimin takes this chance to fire a shot through the back of his skull, splattering blood all over the dusty pavement of the abandoned factory.

But before he can take a step forward, Jimin’s left ear rings with an incoming shot. As the bullet hits the wall behind him, Jimin traces the source of the projectile and sees Il-kwan’s trembling hands clutching the trigger of a pistol.

‘Bad shot,’ Jimin mentally notes before he hides behind a pillar, letting the dumb guy fire all of his bullets. “Fuck!” Il-kwan spits out and throws the empty gun to the floor, spinning on his heels to run away again. But this time, Jimin won’t let him escape.

On the man’s first step, the blond comes out behind the pillar and aims his gun at Il-kwan’s leg. 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨! Il-kwan screams as his body smashes into the pavement.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin walks toward the man with his gun humming with life on his side, his forefinger itching to pull the trigger once more. “M-Mercy!” Il-kwan cries. “B-Boss, please—” 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨!

Smoke rises from the muzzle of Jimin’s pistol as a lone bullet pierces through Il-kwan’s skull. And then, as if the world is put to a halt, Jimin’s surroundings fall silent. Dust rises in the air as blood flows slowly toward Jimin’s soles, smearing the leather with ruby and iron.

Hurried footsteps thump heavily against the pavement in Yoongi’s attempt to follow him. But upon seeing Il-kwan’s dead body on the ground, the bodyguard swallows thickly and lowers his eyes in shame. “Boss, I’m—”

“It’s not your fault,” Jimin cuts him off, completely dismissing the man’s apology. “I wanted to chase the fucker.” “But—” Yoongi presses his lips together. “I was supposed to protect you.”

“And you did.” The blond clicks the lock of his pistol and slides the weapon back into the holster. “You shielded me from the attack. That was enough.”

When the bodyguard’s face contorts with a dark and bitter expression—reluctance and self-blame—Jimin takes a step toward him and places a finger under his chin, urging the man to lift his gaze.

“This is how I do things, Yoongi. I don’t retreat from a fight unless the situation calls for it. I trust my skills and my comrades. The moment I saw Il-kwan running away like a fucking scared dog, I knew right away that the fight was won.”

When Yoongi remains silent as he gazes into Jimin’s eyes, the earlier rush of adrenaline in Jimin’s system comes back in full force, and he feels a sudden stir deep in his gut, churning his insides until the sensation spreads all over his body.

Averting his gaze from the bodyguard, Jimin takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and reaches up to fix his crooked tie. “Let’s go,” he says. “I need a fucking bath.” ✠

Jimin thought that things would calm down on his way back to the headquarters, but he was dead wrong. He can still feel the terrible itch in his limbs with every movement, that troublesome, pooling arousal right between his thighs.

The aftermath of a good fight always makes Jimin’s adrenaline go haywire. He becomes restless for hours—agitated. And so, in times like this, he does only one thing. He needs to blow off some steam.

“Drop me off at—” “No, you’re not going anywhere tonight,” Namjoon cuts him off, knowing full well what Jimin was going to tell them. “I need a fuck, Joon.”

“Then, fuck your hand.” His advisor sighs and fixes his glasses. “It’s dangerous to roam around by yourself for a few days. The other gangs will know what you did; it’s better to let the tension dissipate a little first.”

Annoyed, Jimin crosses his leg over the other and folds both arms on top of his chest, looking out the window as he sinks back into the backseat of the car. “Someone’s sulking,” Taehyung teases him with a smug grin, earning him a hard kick on his back through the passenger seat.

When they arrive at the headquarters, Jimin tells the others to fuck off and goes straight to his private bathroom to fill the tub with warm water. He feels icky all over, and there’s nothing he won’t exchange for a nice warm bath after a bloody fight.

“Don’t you have to visit Doctor Kim?” he asks Yoongi as the man follows him inside the spacious bathroom. “No, sir.” “I see.” After shedding off his coat, Jimin starts unbuttoning his undershirt, saying, “You don’t have to guard me while I’m taking a bath. I mean—”

He takes off his blood-stained white shirt. “I don’t mind an audience, but it’s not really part of your job to watch me bathing or dress me like you did this morning.” He throws a playful smirk over his shoulder. “Taehyung was messing with you.”

Then, fumbling with his belt buckle, the blond hears his bodyguard say behind him, “I don’t mind.”

Jimin chuckles, unzipping his trousers and pushing the clothing and his boxers down to his ankles. Standing stark naked in the middle of the spacious room, Jimin makes his way toward the tub and says, “Do what you like, then.”

When the warm water touches his skin, Jimin lets out a satisfied sigh as he soaks his whole body into the tub. Yoongi is standing behind the wooden panels dividing the room, facing away from Jimin to give him his privacy.

Staring at the bodyguard’s broad back, running his eyes from the man’s lean shoulders down to his narrow hips and muscled thighs, Jimin bites his bottom lip as he feels his cock twitch between his thighs. Fuck.

“Ngh…” he moans softly as he grips the base of his shaft underwater, squeezing a little tighter. This is Namjoon’s fault; if only that guy let Jimin fuck away his adrenaline—

“Shit.” The blond’s head thunks against the edge of the tub as he continues to stroke himself, faster and faster until the stupid bout of arousal in the pit of his stomach tightens in pleasurable knots.

With his lashes fluttering, Jimin stares at the ceiling as he fucks his hand harder. More. He needs more— Kohl eyes. The blond’s breath hitches in his throat.

In the midst of the deafening sound of screams and gunshots, black, piercing eyes were staring down at him. He could still feel Yoongi’s warm breath against his face, the light brush of the tip of his nose against Jimin’s cheek when the man turned his face to look at him.

Heat pools between Jimin’s thighs as the exhilarating feeling overcomes his entire body. Powerful tremors run through his legs as his high hits him, spurting his release in the warm water with his chest heaving out heavy and labored breaths.

Shifting his gaze to the man standing merely a few feet away from him, Jimin licks his lips when he observes no reaction from the other. He lets out an airy chuckle. ‘Outstanding self-control,’ he thinks. ‘A military guy right to the bone.’

On the other hand, here Jimin was, touching himself to blow off his adrenaline like a fucking dog in heat, thinking of a certain pair of dark eyes that spurred his arousal until he reached his climax. “God,” Jimin spits out, secretly lamenting his non-existent self-control.

All of the stress these past few months is starting to take a toll on him. Disloyalty, Chairman Cha's shitshow, the issue with Il-kwan's gang, and all other fucked up things that needed Jimin's attention.

They're messing up his rhythm and judgment, fogging his usually clear mind. Hence, with a sigh, Jimin closes his eyes and rubs his temple to massage the faint throb pestering him since earlier that day. For God's sake. He needs to get fucking laid. ✠

"I've been telling you countless times–" Jimin pulls the phone away from his ear just in time for the forthcoming barrage of shouted words. "Don't fucking send dying people to my clinic!" Beep. Beep. Letting out a soft chuckle, Jimin locks his phone and walks toward the sofa.

"I told you Doctor Kim wouldn't take it well," Namjoon tells him with an amused tilt of his lips. "He'll come around," Jimin says, sitting across the man to pour him and Namjoon a glass of whiskey. "We both know he can't say no to me."

Seokjin has scolded him more times than he can count, complained about Jimin sending bleeding and dying people to his clinic even in the wee hours, but even so, the man would sigh afterward and return to his work to diligently tend to his patients. That's why Jimin likes him.

Offering the other glass to his advisor, the blond asks, "Any word on the streets?" Namjoon hums and takes a sip of his whiskey. "The other gangs became quite apprehensive because of what you did to Il-kwan."

"Good." Jimin leans back against the sofa and crosses his thigh over the other, tasting the bitter liquor with satisfaction. "They should learn what fear is if they try to cross my way."

Jimin has zero tolerance for traitors. He doesn't believe in second chances when it comes to them. He can count on his fingers the number of people he trusts in the mob because 'trust' is too deep of a word for him, something that can mean life or death if he isn't careful.

“Fear is nothing more than a state of mind." Namjoon tilts his head slightly, his spectacles reflecting off the ceiling light above their heads. "If they find someone to latch onto and gain the courage to face that fear, you will be at a disadvantage."

He levels Jimin a look. "And you have a lot of enemies, Jimin. You must take care of your allies, even the small ones like street gangs.” "Business partners," the blond corrects him, staring at his glass. "Everyone tosses their money to the Family with the upper hand."

That's how the gears work in their world. "People are saying that 'the lynx is on the hunt.'" His advisor sighs. "The chairman probably already knew about the dogfight last week." Jimin agrees with a hum. "Words travel at the speed of light, Joon. And they are right."

He licks his lips. "I am on a hunt." Namjoon pushes the rim of his glasses up. "I'll let you know when I find something about the peddler who gave Il-kwan that packet of cocaine." The blond gives him an approving nod. "I'm counting on you."

After a moment of comfortable silence settles between them, with Jimin watching the ice in his glass melt and mix together with the whiskey, the blond lifts his gaze to his advisor when the other asks, "Do you plan to have that man stick with you?"

Knowing full well /who/ he is talking about, Jimin shrugs casually and utters, "Yeah. I don't mind another helping hand." He smirks. "Besides, he dresses me like I'm a fucking royalty or something. It's amusing, so I'll keep him."

Namjoon lifts a questioning brow at that. "You're amused, so you're keeping him," he says, seemingly dissecting the blond's every word. "I don't think so." Leaning forward to grab the bottle of whiskey from the table, the advisor pours another round into his glass.

"Why did you accept him to the Family, Jimin?" Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh, his brows knotting together in annoyance. "Why is everyone asking me the same fucking question?" "Because you're not someone who adopts stray dogs from the street."

Namjoon leans back, staring at him with a serious look. "You don't take someone under your wing because of pity or /amusement/." A beat of silence. "Did you take him in for a fuck?" Jimin's head throws back on the couch with a boisterous laugh.

As his bouts of laughter die down, Jimin presses the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "It seems like you're forgetting something," he says, grinning with no particular humor in his words. "When I take someone under my wing, I grant them my protection."

Then, with an unwavering gaze, Jimin says, "I don't touch my subordinates, Joon."

"And that's precisely why I'm asking." The advisor narrows his eyes. "What did you see in him?" The question breathes down Jimin's neck like a looming shadow. He knows he has to tell this to someone someday, the real reason why he took Yoongi into the Family.

"Because he was like me when I was younger. Sixteen years ago," Jimin utters as his confession causes Namjoon to part his lips. "When I met him, his eyes were full of silent hatred and bitterness. It was as if he wanted to burn the whole world; he still does."

When a moment of silence blankets them, with understanding seeping into the advisor's eyes as he stares at Jimin, the blond huffs an amused breath as he recalls the exact moment his eyes laid on the bodyguard in that dark alley. He says, "It was raining, too, when I met Yoongi."

Namjoon nods and presses his lips against the rim of his glass, letting the silence stretch on for a few seconds before saying, "Do you want me to run a background check on him? Make sure he's not a spy?"

"No, I trust Hoseok's judgment." He snorts. "But I know that won't stop you." The corners of the advisor's lips tilt up, confirming Jimin's statement. "And I want Yoongi himself to tell me about his past," Jimin says, lifting his eyes to Namjoon. "He deserves that."

And when the advisor hums, the blond asks, "Do you remember the first time we met?" Namjoon blinks at the sudden question and lets out an airy chuckle as if recalling a funny memory. "How could I forget?" he says, grinning with a dimpled cheek.

"You were eighteen, but you walked into another Family's headquarters like you owned the place. And..." Namjoon winces in disgust. "You got cum on your shirt." The blond laughs; it was a fun first meeting with Namjoon looking at him as if Jimin were a psycho. Ah, precious days.

"You really like collecting trash, huh?" Namjoon smirks, tilting his head. "Me, Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok, and now, that guy, Min Yoongi." The blond's lips curve up at his advisor's words, finding hilarity in the fucked up situation they're all trapped in.

"There's no saint around here. We're all sons of bitches with shitty lives. We must stick together." Jimin lifts his glass to Namjoon, proposing a toast. "From one trash to another." And then, with a low chuckle, Namjoon smiles and raises his glass. ✠

Jimin taps his finger on his thigh as the city lights pass by his car window in a blur, the colorful lights morphing into hazy neon lines as the vehicle speeds past the highway. "We're almost there," announces Jungkook behind the wheel. His finger grows more restless.

"Can I just jump off this fucking bridge?" the blond utters, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You know this is bound to happen soon," his advisor tells him from the passenger seat. "You can't run away from the Chairman forever."

"It doesn't mean I couldn't delay it." Jimin clicks his tongue and crosses his arms over his chest. When he saw the name of Chairman Cha's secretary, Mr. Wong, last night flashing on his phone screen, Jimin felt the urge to take out his phone's battery +

+ or throw the device into the tub. He knew the reason why he was calling. "He would ask you about Il-kwan," Namjoon deduces. "And Yoongi." Upon hearing the last name, Jimin turns his head to take in the sharp features of the man sitting beside him in the backseat.

Yoongi's gaze is trained in front of him, his emotionless eyes staring into space and holding so much depth that Jimin would never possibly reach the end of.

"You'll stay outside the restaurant," Jimin tells him, causing the bodyguard to look at him for the first time since they left the headquarters. Jungkook looks at him through the rearview mirror as Namjoon raises an inquisitive brow.

"But I should always be where you are, boss," Yoongi utters. "I'm meeting the Chairman. There's no need for you to guard me tonight." Jimin crosses his leg over the other. "And you're a new member; I don't let new faces around me in important meetings like this," Jimin says +

+ and turns his head to the window to indicate the finality of his decision. It's a lie. Jungkook and Namjoon know it. When their youngest, Jungkook, joined the Family, Jimin let him accompany him to his meeting with Chairman Cha in the mob boss's private suite.

The three of them know it's not a matter of length of service; Jimin doesn't care about shit like that. But what baffles Jimin is the length that he will go to just to keep Yoongi away from Chairman Cha. Jimin found him, clothed him, and took him under his wing.

Yoongi is /his/ by Family rights, but he doesn't want to tie down the man to this place. If Yoongi wants to call it quits and disappears one day, then Jimin would gladly let him go.

He might be an ex-military, but the world he's dipped his foot in is completely different from what he had experienced in the minefield. The mob world is full of dark, twisted, and fucked up things that can spoil even the purest soul, +

+ corrupting people’s flesh and bones until they’re left with an empty shell of themselves. But as long as Yoongi remains under him, Jimin will grant him his protection. "Yes, boss," the bodyguard answers with a small nod of his head.

To Jimin’s peace of mind, Namjoon and Jungkook didn’t ask him questions after that, keeping their silence until the car pulled up at a traditional Korean restaurant in Gangnam.

A dark-suited man opens the door for Jimin, bowing his head to the second-highest authority in the Family as the blond walks into the restaurant with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Good evening, Mr. Park,” the hostess greets him, her red lips curving up with a beautiful smile and matching the color of the intricate design of her hanbok. “The chairman is in the VIP room. This way, please.”

“Namjoon will come with me,” Jimin says, sparing a glance in Jungkook’s direction. “The two of you will stay outside.” “Yes, boss.” Jungkook nods and beckons their newest member to follow him.

From the corner of his eyes, Jimin sees Yoongi glancing at him for a short while before bowing his head and turning around to trail after the youngest. The blond stifles a sigh of odd relief and follows the hostess to the second floor of the restaurant.

“Chairman, Mr. Park has arrived,” the lady announces and slides the wooden door to let Jimin and Namjoon through. Taking off his shoes, Jimin wordlessly steps inside without lifting his eyes to the two men sitting on the low table in the middle of the room.

The blond sits on the floor cushion with legs folded together, taking a moment to breathe in deeply before raising his gaze to the middle-aged man seated across from him. The silence is thick – suffocating. Jimin wants to get the fuck out of here.

“It’s been a while since we shared a meal at this restaurant. How have you been, Jimin?” the chairman asks, staring at the blond with sharp, discerning eyes. “I’ve been well, sir.” Jimin takes the ceramic bottle and offers to pour the chairman a cup of rice wine.

Taking the offered liquor, Chairman Cha hums and says, “I’ve heard about Il-kwan.” Jimin calmly pours himself a drink. “The guy needed a lesson.”

“A lesson which he certainly took with him to the grave.” The chairman levels him with a serious gaze. “What you did was reckless, Jimin.”

Namjoon stiffens a little beside him, sitting behind the low table like a marble statue with his eyes lowered to the untouched food in front of him. “Perhaps,” Jimin utters, holding the old man’s gaze. “But every action was necessary.”

“We needed every man we could get, and Il-kwan’s gang had a good network in the underground scene.” “And why is that?” Jimin’s question causes Namjoon to swallow hard, bracing himself for the inevitable as it comes.

“Do you care so much now about small lousy gangs who blatantly betrayed the Family, or…” He tilts his head slightly. “You need people like Il-kwan because you’re up to something?”

The chairman’s secretary, Mr. Wong, parts his lips in surprise at the unexpected confrontation on Jimin’s end. The old man stares at him quietly for a moment as if gauging how much Jimin knows about the shady deal he’s been brewing with the Busan mob Family, Seulgi.

Then, putting his cup down, Chairman Cha lets out a low chuckle. “I expect nothing less of my son.” “I’m not your son,” Jimin says as the corners of his lips pinch together. He hates it when the old man calls him that.

“I named you as my heir and second-in-command,” Chairman Cha tells him. “I found you; you are my son, as per the mafia’s bylaws.” The blond’s fists tighten on his thighs as his jaws clench with defiance.

They might be a ‘family’ in the eyes of the mob world, but Jimin refuses to acknowledge any likeness between him and his so-called ‘Father.’ If Jimin is a monster, then this person—this old man sitting across the table—is a fucking /demon/.

Jimin had done a lot of dirty jobs for him, had killed and deceived many people under his command. But there is one thing that Jimin absolutely refuses to do: get the smell of innocent blood smeared on his hands. That is the fine line that separates him from Chairman Cha.

“Garam had a bloody history with Seulgi, and despite the truce between the two Families, tension remains between us. I decided to keep this deal a secret until the transaction is made to keep the other Families from sticking their noses into our business.”

The chairman takes a sip of his wine. “When are you planning to tell me?” asks Jimin. “Soon,” the old man says. “But since you have been properly oriented about the upcoming transaction, let me be direct with you.”

Jimin watches as the chairman fishes something out from the inner pocket of his coat, flicking his gaze to the shiny golden coin which the old man placed on the table, noting the engraved image of a falcon flying over a river.

“This will grant you the authority to oversee the transaction in my stead,” the mob boss tells him. “The first meeting with Seulgi will be in Daejeon on the 17th of March. I want you to go to formally close the deal.”

Grabbing the golden coin from the table, Jimin runs his thumb over the smooth surface and asks, “You trust Seulgi?” At that, the chairman gives him a low laugh.

“Only a fool will trust people outside his Family. Sometimes, even Family members bite the hand of the person who feeds them.” He lifts his eyes to the blond. “Remember that when you inherit my position someday.”

“So, you are making a deal with an enemy.” Jimin scratches his thumbnail lightly against the embossed lines on the coin. “Isn’t that too great of a risk? What if they fuck you up?”

“That’s why I am giving you the power to supervise the transaction,” Chairman Cha utters with a wry smile. “Lynxes have sharp intuition, don’t they?”

The blond licks his lips as he gazes down at the coin in his hand, observing the wavy lines engraved on the flattened side. “A river,” he mutters.

“Our Family is the lifeblood of this city. Like the river that flows through Seoul, Garam keeps this land fertile and thriving. Without us, this place will wither and die.” Chairman Cha gives him a serious look. “Don’t fail me, Jimin.”

The weight of those words pins Jimin to the ground, crushing him against the hard surface until his bones break, killing him slowly from the inside out. “I won’t,” Jimin says with a small bow, his chest raging with turmoil, as he stands up on his feet, leaving his food untouched.

“I’ll let the distributor know about the meeting in Daejeon.” With a curt nod, Chairman Cha takes another sip of his wine.

Jimin turns around to leave as Namjoon opens the door for him, but then, just as when he’s about to step out of the room, he hears the old man say, “Do you intend to keep that new pet of yours?”

The chairman’s words cause Jimin’s footsteps to halt on the mat. “What do you mean?” he asks with his back still turned to the mob boss, dread starting to creep into his chest. “That man.” A brief pause. “Min Yoongi.” Jimin's heart drops to his stomach.

“I heard he killed the traitor who stole from your warehouse.” Chairman Cha puts his cup down. “He did.” Jimin presses his lips together. “I have use for him, so I’ll keep him for a while.” “For a while,” the chairman repeats his words.

“Don’t let that pet of yours waste your time, Jimin.” Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, the blond turns around to say, “You know I’ve killed people for wasting my time.” Then, without another word, Jimin walks out of that fucking suffocating room. ✠

additional tags: • insomnia • nightmare • depiction of drowning • derogatory name-calling

There's water around his feet. Jimin doesn't know how he got here, but the sensation of the rough sand biting on his skin feels real. The tides crash against his limbs as he takes a step forward, tipping off his balance until his rear hits the cold water.

He's ten years old again, standing in this vast ocean from his memory. The shark toy clutched in his hand is gone, and the dark sky looms above his head with a brewing storm. After all these years, why does he keep dreaming of this ocean?

Jimin turns around to run to the shore, but every step he makes seems to take him farther away, his heart beating fast as the vast ocean stretches on, pulling him to its core. And when a frightened sob escapes Jimin’s lips, +

+ a colossal wave towers over him and plunges him into its depths. He wriggles his limbs and attempts to swim up to the surface, desperation and /fear/ lodging in the crevices of his bones as the light fades away the further he sinks to the bottom.

His eyes burn as he cries, holding his breath as long as he can as his tears mix with saltwater, disappearing into the dark abyss as the ocean's depths swallow him whole.

Jimin stretches a hand in front of him, reaching for the surface as the faint light fills the spaces between his fingers. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Jimin thinks as his struggles halt to a stop. There’s no sound around him, no flowing current or raging static in his ears. Nothing.

Is this what death feels like? And so, as the rays of light fade in his vision, Jimin closes his eyes and opens his mouth to take a deep breath. ✠

He’s breathing again. Jimin can feel the air rushing in and out of his lungs everytime his chest rises and falls. He could still recall the fleeting agony when he breathed in the ocean water, but the painful sensation vanished as fast as it came.

There’s something hard digging into his hipbone, possibly gravel or stray trash, as the smell of garbage and cigarette smoke wafts through his nose. He’s lying on the cold, dirty pavement in a dark back alley, his skin bathed in red neon lights +

+ as the signboard blinks continuously in the somber night. Jimin’s lashes flutter when he feels something ‘wet’ hit his forehead. The dreary night sky cries as raindrops fall upon him, soaking his clothes and dark locks as lead fills his bones. He cannot move.

Then, Jimin hears a slam beside him, the sound of a door opening forcefully as a shadowy figure appears from the building. His heart starts to pound when familiarity hits him, his eyes blown wide with shock and dread as the shadow motions to take a step forward, +

+ attempting to reach for him. Then, a man's voice echoes in the night, “You fucking little whøre.” Jimin wakes up with a loud gasp.

He can feel blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds erratically in his chest, leaving him out of breath as his neck glistens with sweat. Sitting on his bed, Jimin runs a hand down his face and ignores the light tremors on his fingers as he sucks in a deep breath.

He had a fucking nightmare again.

Glancing at the digital clock beside his bed, Jimin frowns and lets out a sigh of defeat when he sees the time. ‘3:35 AM,’ he mentally notes and pushes the duvet off him to stand up from the bed. He’s only had two hours of sleep in three days.

“Fuck,” Jimin mutters as he pulls his nightrobe closer to his body, trembling a little in the cold as he makes his way to the door. Perhaps, a good glass of wine would help him sleep.

As he enters the adjacent office, Jimin’s vision immediately catches the slumbering figure of a man lying on the sofa near the aquarium. With an amused chuckle, Jimin quietly approaches him with an upturned curve of his lips. ‘He’s sleeping soundly,’ Jimin muses +

+ as he takes in the soft features of the man’s face, devoid of the hard lines that usually contort his mouth and forehead during the day. Sleeping defenseless like this, with his pale skin basking in sapphire blue and glowing, undulating waves, Yoongi looks considerably younger.

Jimin told him to sleep in the room Hoseok provided for him, but Yoongi refused and remained close to Jimin wherever he went. While Jimin sleeps in his room at night, the bodyguard stays in the office next door.

There’s something peculiar about Yoongi; how he moves, talks, and does things that always surprise Jimin. He’s drawn to Yoongi, to his aloofness and mystery. The man is like a complex puzzle that Jimin continuously tries to solve. Yoongi excites him; that much is certain.

But the thing is, is it mere physical attraction that Jimin feels for him?

As an invisible force pulls Jimin toward the sleeping man, he kneels beside the couch and reaches out to touch his cheek. When his fingertips brush against Yoongi’s skin, Jimin holds his breath as he feels a pleasant stir in his chest.

The memory of his nightmare flashes across his mind as he lightly touches the bodyguard’s face, his fingers slowly stroking the man’s face as if frightened to rouse him. “Why am I protective of you?” he whispers.

Perhaps, he can see a part of himself in Yoongi. The hatred. The desire to burn those who hurt him. The fear of turning into something he’s not. The agony of losing someone.

When his fingertips graze against the bodyguard’s lips, lightly touching the soft flesh, Jimin feels his heartbeat quicken as he succumbs to his instinct completely.

The blond leans forward with his eyes fluttered shut, pressing his lips against the man’s cheek with featherlight touch, a wisp of warm air reaching the other’s skin when he pulls away slowly.

Yoongi lays there unmoving, days of exhaustion accumulating like lead in his limbs and shutting down his senses honed by years of military training. The corners of Jimin’s lips curve up with a small smile as he sits down on the floor with his legs crossed.

Propping an elbow on his thigh, Jimin rests his chin on his hand and stares at the bodyguard’s face. “You’re unfair,” he whispers. “I want to sleep, too.” Jimin stays there, watching the man sleep until the first rays of sunlight break through the horizon. ✠

additional tags/warnings: • use of medication • inadvertent drug overdose

His head is pounding with a dull throb, and one more loud fucking noise from his bickering subordinates and Jimin would pull out his gun and fire a warning shot. No, that won’t do. He’s not a fucking kid who’s about to throw a tantrum just because he’s having trouble sleeping.

Every little noise seems to irk him as Jimin sighs and pushes the car door open to get out of the vehicle parked in a back alley of a small infirmary downtown. “Jimin,” Namjoon calls him as he jogs after his boss.

With one hand in his pocket, Jimin knocks on the back door and waits until the muffled sound of footsteps comes from the other side. “I’m coming with you,” his advisor says as another presence shifts closely beside him.

Jimin ignores his bodyguard’s looming aura and tips his chin up to look at the security camera attached to the wall. “You could’ve just waited in the car with Kook and Taehyung, but if you insist on seeing Dr. Kim, then be my guest.” “I have no business with Dr. Kim.”

When the door unlocks and reveals a middle-aged lady wearing a pair of white scrubs, Jimin snorts and says, “Whatever suits you, Joon.” “Mr. Park,” the nurse utters with a polite bow, opening the door wider to let the visitors through.

“Dr. Kim is on the second floor in his office.” “Thank you.” Jimin gives her a curt nod before ascending the stairs that lead to the doctor’s office.

“And here I thought I wouldn’t be seeing your mopey face for another month,” comes an unceremonious greeting when Jimin opens the office door. Seokjin is sitting behind his desk computer, typing away something on the keyboard as he occasionally peeks at the clipboard beside him.

“I hate being lazy,” Jimin simply answers as he takes residence on the black leather couch. “Lazy is a relative term.” Dr. Kim loudly taps the ‘Enter’ button. “Hiding is more appropriate.”

Fifteen seconds into their conversation and Jimin already feels the urge to smack him. “I don’t hide.” The doctor hums at this, and he turns his swivel chair around to face the underboss for the first time since he’s stepped foot into the establishment.

“You’re lying low,” Seokjin utters matter-of-factly. “That’s what hiding means.”

Namjoon lets out a small amused huff by the door, for which Jimin has thrown a nasty glare. Walking to the empty chair beside the bookshelf, Namjoon sits down and crosses his arms. “Jimin made quite a stir in the streets,” he says.

“It’s no wonder why he had to keep his presence to a minimum until the fire dies down.” Seokjin acknowledges the advisor’s presence with a lift of his left eyebrow. “The fire won’t die anytime soon.” “Stop stating the obvious,” Jimin counters.

“And stop being a stubborn asshole who keeps sending dying people to my clinic.” Dr. Kim rolls his eyes at the underboss. “I’m not getting paid enough for this.” “I’ll pay you double if it’ll keep your big mouth shut.”

“You can’t bribe me.” Seokjin settles back in his chair and crosses a leg on his thigh. “As much as I love my job, I don’t appreciate seeing people bleed out to death if it could be prevented.”

Then, shifting his gaze to the standing man near the office door, Seokjin jerks his chin and says, “Is that your guy?” “He’s my bodyguard,” Jimin answers, and the statement draws an incredulous, mocking laugh out of the doctor.

“You don’t have bodyguards, Jimin; you have subordinates. You don’t need anyone to protect you.” With a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Jimin tells him, “You overestimate my abilities, doc.”

Dr. Kim quietly observes him for a moment, staring at him with keen and measuring eyes as if peeking through a lens to dissect every fiber of Jimin’s being. Then, after some time, the doctor stands up from his seat and walks toward the advisor.

“You,” Soekjin says when the advisor stands up to his feet. “And that statue over there.” He briefly tips his head in Yoongi’s direction. “I need both of you to get out.”

Jimin watches in amusement as a slightly flustered expression crosses the advisor’s features. “I’m here with Jimin, Dr. Kim,” Namjoon explains, but the doctor is having none of it.

“As far as my brilliant mind remembers, Jimin is twenty-eight and doesn’t need a guardian’s supervision or parental consent. Are you either of those?” The advisor parts his lips, his lashes fluttering. “No, but—”

“Then, more reason for you to get out.” Dr. Kim shoves his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “Even if you point that gun at me, I will stand by my decision. This is my clinic—my /territory/. I am the authority here, and I value patient confidentiality more than anything.”

For someone who knows so much and has always prided himself on being efficient and clever, Namjoon stands there like a chastised kid, tongue-tied in front of Dr. Kim. The advisor coughs on a closed fist and fixes his spectacles before saying, “Alright.”

Then, he turns to Yoongi, who’s looking back at Jimin as if requesting permission to leave or silently assessing if it’s safe for the boss to be alone with the doctor. “Wait outside,” Jimin tells him, and the slight tension in the guard’s shoulders seems to dissipate after that.

When the door clicks shut, leaving Jimin in the brutal company of Dr. Kim, the doctor snorts lightly and drags his swivel chair closer to his patient. “You’re heartless,” Jimin utters, smirking as the doctor sits across from him. “You didn’t have to be so hostile to my advisor.”

“That kid needed a scolding.” Dr. Kim crosses one leg over the other, folding his arms together on his chest. “He should learn not to play with something dangerous.” “So, you knew.” Dr. Kim nods. “I knew.” “Are you gonna tell him you’re not interested?”

Seokjin purses his lips, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I’m still debating about it.” Jimin lets out a light snort. “You’re cruel.” “Enough about me.” The doctor levels him a look, pointedly staring at the dark bags under Jimin’s eyes. “Why are you here?”

The atmosphere shifts into a serious one, and Jimin lets a moment of silence permeate the air around them before he says, “I need those pills.” The request causes the doctor to raise an inquisitive brow. “You haven’t taken those in seven years, Jimin.”

“I’m having nightmares again.” The weight of those words settles heavily in the doctor’s eyes, and no matter how brash or ruthless the other man can be at times, he takes serious matters like this professionally.

“The last time you had a nightmare was when you saved that doe-eyed kid from the red-light district.” “Jungkook,” Jimin utters. “His name is Jungkook.” “Still a doe-eyed kid.” “You sound like an old man.” “I’m thirty-seven. All of you are kids to me.”

Dr. Kim nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking. “So, what precipitated your demons this time?” Jimin drops his gaze as his mind attempts to grasp the root of his nightmares.

It happened so suddenly without warning, submerging him in cold, dark water until he drowned and salt filled his lungs. “Yoongi,” he mutters. At the mention of the unfamiliar name, the doctor surmises, “The bodyguard.” “Yeah.” “What’s the deal with that guy?”

Jimin knows what the other man is really asking: Why is Yoongi here? What does Jimin want to do with him? Why did he take him in? Hence, inhaling a slow breath, Jimin confesses, “I saw myself in him.”

As the bomb drops and splashes the waves against their feet, Dr. Kim lowers his gaze and utters in a solemn and thoughtful voice, “That fucked up, huh?” Jimin can’t suppress the bitter chuckle that falls down his mouth.

“You can always discard him,” Seokjin suggests, and even though the idea puts a vile taste in Jimin’s mouth, he knows that the doctor is merely stating the truth—a possibility. “He isn’t tied to this world.” “I know,” Jimin says. “I made sure of that.”

“That’s why you made him your bodyguard and not a direct subordinate, right?” Dr. Kim adds, “Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok, and that advisor of yours would be a bit harder to throw away because of their position in the Family, but that guy, Yoongi…”

Jimin stays silent, anticipating the doctor’s words despite knowing what will come next. “...He’s neither a direct subordinate nor an official Family member. You can easily cast him aside if things go south for you.” A brief pause.

“And yet, because you took him under your wing, that guy will be granted your full protection.” As the silence stretches on with Jimin digesting the hard truths Seokjin had laid out for him, the blond asks quietly, “Did I make the right decision?”

Seokjin sighs and stands up from his seat, walking toward a glass cabinet containing bottles and vials of medications. “If you will be able to protect that guy, then yes. But if he dies…”

The unfinished sentence hangs like a pendulum swinging back and forth in front of Jimin, signifying success on one side and failure on the other. He’s stuck keeping the pendulum in motion, but the force of the swing compels Jimin to keep pushing forward.

“You know you and I are different from the rest.” Dr. Kim comes back with a white plastic bottle in his hand. “We have a deep connection to the chairman, and our very root comes from the Family’s core. It’s not something we can easily walk away from—if we ever can."

"We’re tied to this place until our last breath.” Jimin presses his lips together, feeling a spark of rage brewing underneath his skin.

“Chairman Cha gave us a debt that we could never pay.” Seokjin offers the bottle of medication, staring at Jimin with a flicker of sympathy, helplessness, and contained anger in his dark mahogany eyes. “A life.”

Taking the bottle, Jimin utters, “He’s our founder.” “Just like you with Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi.” Dr. Kim closes his eyes with a sigh. “The chairman knew about Yoongi,” Jimin tells the other man.

Seokjin snorts. “Of course. That old man is obsessed with his legacy and interested in matters concerning his only ‘son’ and heir.” The doctor’s expression turns grim. “He’ll interfere if he sees you’re distracted. You know that, Jimin.” Jimin knows. So fucking well.

/ “Don’t let that pet of yours waste your time, Jimin.” / The chairman’s voice echoes inside his head like a grave reminder, a threat that coils around his neck like a noose, waiting for his foot to fuck up and slip.

“I don’t welcome distractions in my life.” He stands up from the couch and shows the bottle to the elder. “How do I take this again?” “One tablet before sleep. Just one.” Dr. Kim reiterates the last word firmly. “For God’s sake, Jimin. Follow my instructions just this once.”

Seven years ago, the nightmares were fucking terrible. They were haunting Jimin in his sleep, creeping into every corner like shadows waiting to devour him alive. It was a constant battle against his own demons, +

+ and the medication helped him get some respite from the exhausting gears turning in his mind. That was until the nightmares became unbearable, robbing away sleep in the dead of night, and Jimin took too much.

He could still remember Seokjin shouting at him as he lay on a cold hospital bed, his voice trembling with fear, desperately pumping his stomach and shaking him awake as Jimin’s consciousness slipped away. Dr. Kim had almost lost him that night.

“I will,” Jimin assures him, letting a moment of silence drops between them to emphasize his point before saying, “And I’m still sorry for that, Jin.” The doctor grunts and waves a dismissive hand at the blond. “Good. Now get the fuck lost. I have tons of things to do.”

On his way out, Jimin halts and looks over his shoulder. “If you wanna take Namjoon out on a date, tell me. I can give him a day off.” As he turns the doorknob, a wicked smirk makes its way to the blond’s mouth when he hears a loud choke from the doctor behind him. ✠

Jimin manages to get four hours of sleep in—the most he has gotten in a day so far since his nightmares started—but the painful feeling of drowning and the trauma of waking up with a loud gasp in the wee hours of the night abandon Jimin in a state of restlessness +

+ as fragments of his nightmares lodge heavily in the crevices of his mind like molten lead. Perturbed and sweating, Jimin flicks his eyes to the medication bottle on the nightstand. He took one before bed, and it helped his mind ease up a bit and allowed him four hours of sleep.

But despite the relief that the drug gave him, Seokjin’s reminder hangs above his head like a bleeping red light; hence, sticking to his promise, Jimin averts his eyes and rises from the bed. Tying his nightrobe, the blond walks out of the bedroom +

+ and goes to the adjacent private lounge to pour himself a drink. It’s becoming a habit: drinking a glass of whiskey to soothe his nerves, hoping to wash down the terrifying remnants of his dream as he stares at the slumbering bodyguard until exhaustion drains him off.

Sitting on the carpeted floor with his frame outlined by the eerie blue glows of the aquarium tank behind him, Jimin attempts to reach out for the man again. He has developed a peculiar urge to touch Yoongi’s face in his sleep, +

+ like an itch that he can’t scratch until his finger brushes against the other’s skin. It’s bothersome and, honestly, borderline irritating. Still, Jimin always pushes the thought to the back of his mind and succumbs to that secret urge to feel Yoongi’s warmth.

His fingertip is merely a hair’s breadth from the man’s lips when Jimin freezes on his spot. / “Do you intend to keep that new pet of yours?” / “Why am I doing this?” Jimin whispers. “What do I want from you?”

It would’ve been easier if Yoongi had been an asshole, if the man spat at Jimin and didn’t look at him that night under the pouring rain as if he had given up on life and had nothing but wrath fueling his will to live.

With an inward sigh, Jimin retrieves his hand and pushes himself up to his feet, carrying the empty glass of whiskey in his left hand. He’s starting to lose his mind.

But before Jimin can take a step, he feels a hand clutching around his wrist with an iron grip, stopping him dead on his feet as he parts his lips in muted shock.

“You’re awake,” Jimin utters, refusing to glance behind him. And when the man doesn’t answer, he asks, “Have you always been awake?”

The palm around his wrist is calloused and rough, hardened by years of labor and military service. Yoongi feels warm, and Jimin knows that the other man can feel his beating pulse with how hard his hand is gripping him.

Then, finally turning to face the bodyguard, Jimin demands, “Answer me.” With the hypnotizing waves from the tank reflecting on the man’s eyes, Yoongi submits, “Yes.”

The blond feels a wave of betrayal flare in his chest, a mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness, as he attempts to free his wrist from the man’s grasp. “Let me go.”

But instead of obeying his boss’s order like he usually would, Yoongi sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the couch. “Are you having trouble sleeping again?” “That’s none of your concern.”

The bodyguard doesn’t bite his snide remark and opts to silently stare at Jimin instead. “Stop looking at me like that,” the blond says, frowning. “It pisses me off.”

Instead of eliciting an irked reaction from the man, Yoongi simply holds his gaze while he says in a stupidly calm voice, “If you need anything, just tell me. That’s what I’m here for.”

Jimin chuckles in a dangerously low voice, his eyes glinting with dark humor as the man’s words bother him down to his very core. / “That’s what I’m here for.” / ‘No,’ Jimin wants to say. ‘You’re a lot more than what you are now.’

“Alright.” The blond tilts his head with a wicked little smirk tugging at one corner of his lips. He challenges Yoongi, “If I say I need you to fuck me now, would you do it?”

One thing about Yoongi that Jimin should have learned after spending time with him is that he’s a man of few words. He doesn’t say what he thinks or what he wants; he /acts/ on it.

And so, it shouldn’t have surprised him when Jimin finds himself thrown across the couch with the man hovering on top of him, gazing down at him with an indiscernible expression on his face.

Jimin’s breath stutters when Yoongi hooks a finger on the hollow dip of his nightrobe, exposing bits and pieces of his golden skin the more the man pulls the fabric down.

“If that’s what it takes to help you sleep…” says the bodyguard, and the low and gruff timbre of his voice sends a pleasant ripple of arousal down Jimin’s gut.

When the blond doesn’t speak, completely blown away by the other’s intimate proximity, Yoongi slowly lowers himself until Jimin feels a pair of slightly chapped lips pressing against the throbbing pulse on his neck.

The blond gasps when the bodyguard slides the nightrobe off his left shoulder, placing a gentle but firm kiss on the crook of his neck before taking a teasing bite of his skin. “W-Wait, Yoongi—” Jimin’s fingers bury into the muscled flesh of the man’s arms.

Yoongi pulls away to stare down into his eyes. “Stop,” Jimin says, his voice coming out ragged and breathy. “I wasn’t serious when I said that.”

The bodyguard gazes at him for a moment, seemingly searching for something in Jimin’s eyes, and after a beat of silence, he reaches out to run a finger down the side of Jimin’s face, brushing his fingertip against the blond's skin with a ghostly touch.

Just like how Jimin had touched him in his sleep.

He doesn’t like how Yoongi is touching him, how tender and warm the other feels against his skin, how deep the ocean is in the man's eyes as he stares up at him.

Jimin is not used to receiving such a delicate gesture, and the thought of being handled, touched, and caressed with such great care and reverence almost makes his head dizzy and his stomach churn. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Get off.” The blond places a firm hand on the bodyguard’s chest, turning his face away from the other’s warmth. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Sensing the apparent seriousness in his words, Yoongi relents and peels himself off him, letting Jimin stand on his feet with his back turned to the other man. “I’m letting you stay by my side because you entertain me,” he says, pulling up his robe.

“But if you touch me like that again…” He clenches his jaw. “I will kick you out.” And for the first time in his life, Jimin feels a strong sense of vulnerability and develops a crippling fear of falling from a great height. ✠

Jimin expected Yoongi to come the following morning. Of course, he would. Even after practically ignoring his existence yesterday, the man remained wordless and dutifully guarded him without complaints, going as far as to silently pour Jimin his drink and light his cigarette.

He regarded the bodyguard with a slight nod; he's not a fucking jerk to his underlings, for God's sake. But the thing is, Jimin can't last two seconds holding Yoongi's gaze without feeling furious and unsettled about what had transpired between them the night before.

Because of that, Jimin wakes up thirty minutes earlier than he usually does to take a quick shower and dress himself. But to his surprise, as he dries up his hair with a towel on his way back to the bedroom, Jimin sees Yoongi standing in the middle of his room +

+ holding a perfectly tailored grey suit—the one which Jimin told him about when the man asked three days ago what he would be wearing for his meeting today. "Good morning, boss," Yoongi simply greets him, the words uttered so casually that it ticks Jimin off a little.

The blond acknowledges him with a hum before averting his eyes and walking toward the bed. "Place the suit on the bed," he instructs him. After carefully laying the suit on the mattress, Yoongi moves behind him to reach out for his robe like he always did +

+ but when his fingers brush against Jimin's shoulders, the blond utters, "No." Yoongi's hands freeze on the robe. Without glancing behind him, Jimin steps away from Yoongi and leans forward to grab his suit. "I can dress myself just fine. You don't have to keep doing it."

The bodyguard hovers behind him for a moment, seemingly debating whether to leave the room or not, before he finally decides. "I understand," Yoongi utters with a slight bow. "Good." Jimin steels himself. "Wait for me outside the room."

As the heavy thump of footsteps disappears behind the door, the blond sighs and closes his eyes in defeat. He can't keep doing this. One thing he learned from his past mistakes is that it's dangerous to tread open waters.

Jimin is not an indecisive man; he's run by principles, instincts, and stone-cold resolve. He hates second guesses, uncertainties, and ambiguity because one misstep in the world he's living in could mean death.

But Yoongi... God, this fucking guy. He's everything that Jimin refuses to see, everything that he avoids dealing with. He took him in to grant him his protection, to give the man a place to stay, and to steer him away from self-destruction.

Because Jimin knows how this world fucks up everyone breathing its air, how it corrupts one's soul until nothing is left of them. "But why you?" Jimin whispers under his breath as he absently takes the robe off.

His temple is throbbing with a dull, pounding headache from a week of insomnia, and he muses it won't stop soon. He's reluctant to close his eyes because when he does, he can still see the fragments of his nightmares flashing under his eyelids, imprinted like a ghostly memory.

/ Dr. Kim nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking. “So, what precipitated your demons this time?” Jimin drops his gaze as his mind attempts to grasp the root of his nightmares. “Yoongi,” he mutters. /

/ “You can always discard him,” Seokjin suggests, and even though the idea puts a vile taste in Jimin’s mouth, he knows that the doctor is merely stating the truth—a possibility. “He isn’t tied to this world.” / The corners of Jimin's lips pinch together.

Should he throw away Yoongi now? ✠

"I'm not sure if you're deaf or a full-blown idiot because I've been telling you a /million/ times not to put that goddamn gun on my table." Taehyung snorts at Jungkook's reprimanding words and continues fixing his gun.

Hoseok laughs and places his feet on the table, earning him a warning glare from their youngest, who, in all of his pink bunny apron glory, is busy stirring a pot of instant ramyeon on the stove. "Just say you like being Taehyung's househusband," he teases, and Jungkook gags.

"Who would want to marry that brute?" "Ya." Taehyung pulls the barrel of the gun, testing the recoil of the metal. "I have class." He grins. "And I'm handsome." Jungkook rolls his eyes at that and kills the stove to place the steaming pot of ramyeon on the table.

"I already feel bad for whoever's gonna have to put up with your shitty attitude." "What do you mean? I'm a great lover." The grin on Taehyung's mouth widens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "In and out of the bedroom."

The youngest gives him a disgusted face before taking off his pink bunny apron and smacking it against Hoseok's legs. "Feet off the fucking table." Chuckling, the recruit officer puts his feet down and grabs a ceramic bowl to serve himself a portion of the delicious ramyeon.

Just as when Hoseok's about to take a bite of the steaming noodles, his attention gets caught by a man entering the kitchen with an imperceptible expression on his face. "Yo!" He immediately greets the guy with a friendly smile and a tiny wave.

"Now, this is a rare sight," Taehyung comments as he clears the table of his gun and fixing tools. "Hey, eat with us," the youngest offers. "I'm good. Thank you," Yoongi says as he awkwardly stands there in the kitchen.

"I insist." Jungkook pats the empty seat beside him. "Eat something before Jimin drags away your ass." Hoseok snorts and proceeds to eat his ramyeon as the bodyguard settles beside Jungkook, quietly thanking the guy when the latter gives him his share.

"You're early today," Taehyung comments. "You usually spend 30 minutes dressing Jimin up on a normal day." Hoseok watches as Yoongi's eyes drop to the steaming bowl before him. Then, he hears the other say, "Boss told me to stop doing it." Silence.

"What did you say?" It was Taehyung who spoke first. "Wait." Hoseok shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind of a nagging thought. "Jimin kicked you out of his room?" Wordlessly, the bodyguard nods.

"Why? Did you do something to annoy him?" asks Taehyung, frowning. When the bodyguard doesn't answer, Taehyung sighs and thumps his half-empty glass of water, startling Jungkook and Hoseok as he folds his arms together on the table. "Listen up, new face."

He gives Yoongi a level gaze. "Jimin is our boss, but he's our friend before anything else. If you did /anything/ to harm him, you'll have to answer to us. And we don't give a fuck about ex-military dogs or loaded guys when it comes to our family."

Hoseok knows what Taehyung means. 'Our family.' He's not talking about Garam, but the 'family' they've built as friends—brothers. He, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon, and somehow, Dr. Kim, all regard each other as 'family.'

"Hey, tone it down," Jungkook chides Taehyung lightly before returning his attention to the man beside him. "What happened, Yoongi?" And for the first time since Hoseok met him, he sees a flicker of confusion and /regret/ in the man's eyes.

"I did something I shouldn't have." "And what exactly is that?" Hoseok asks, looking closely at any minute reaction or change in the other guy's expression. A beat of silence, then the bodyguard utters, "I touched him."

It feels like a bomb has dropped on the table between them, carving a crater deep enough to let water gush out from the planet's core. "You..." Taehyung's face contorts with rage. "You did /what/?" He spits out the last word like poison.

"Hey, easy." Hoseok quickly stands up to his feet when Taehyung motions to grab the bodyguard across the table, holding his friend back as he throws a look in Jungkook's direction. "Kook, take Taehyung out. I'll talk to this guy."

"My fucking /fist/ will talk—" "No." Hoseok glares at his friend, spitting out the word firmly and exuding an aura of authority when he says, "I'm the fucking recruit officer." A brief pause. "I'll take care of this."

With his jaws clenched, Taehyung lets Jungkook usher him out of the kitchen, leaving a heavy blanket of silence in his wake. Sighing, Hoseok settles on his seat again and lifts his eyes to the man before him. "I want you to be honest with me, Yoongi," he begins.

"Can I trust you with that?" After a moment, the bodyguard nods. "I think I already told you that I'm a great judge of character. I'm not a veteran at this, or 100% accurate all the time. I'm not a fucking lie detector machine." He chuckles.

"I rely on logic, observation, and instinct. And from what I've seen since the day you came up to me and asked me to let you join Garam, I can vouch that you're an honest man." The muscle in Yoongi's jaw twitches. "I'm not."

Hoseok lets out a light and amused noise through his nose. "An honest man would say that." When Yoongi says nothing in return, he continues, "We're not Saints; we're all infested by our own demons. But that doesn't mean you can't do the right thing on this wayward path."

Absently running a finger on the rim of his glass, the recruit officer tells him, "Jimin had a shitty past, shittier than the rest of us here. I'm not sure about yours, but you wouldn't be here if your life had been candies and rainbows."

After a moment of silence passes between them, Hoseok finally asks, "Why did you touch him?" Yoongi fixes his gaze on the cooling pot of ramyeon on the table, seemingly mulling over a thought. "I don't know." "You don't know," Hoseok repeats, and the bodyguard nods.

"Boss couldn't sleep at night," Yoongi utters. "He always went to the private lounge to watch me sleep, sitting on the floor with a glass of whiskey and saying things I didn't know. But most of the time, he just... sat there until dawn."

The revelation puts a pang of sadness into Hoseok's chest. All these years, starting from the day Jimin picked him up from the streets, Hoseok has always known that there's an innate loneliness in the blond's heart.

Despite his seat of power and bountiful richness, Jimin has always been cradling that seed of sadness close to his chest. It's not something that the mob world has given him but something that the harsh and cruel reality of life has deeply planted in him, rooted to his very core.

It's an unbearable torment that makes Hoseok's heart ache, even if he can never fathom just a fraction of what Jimin feels. "You might have provoked something deep within him," Hoseok says. "For Jimin to avoid you like that." Yoongi drops his gaze in shame. "I'm sorry."

The man's apology puts a smile on Hoseok's face. "Hey, good guy. Don't beat yourself over it." "I shouldn't have done it." "Hm." Hoseok hums. "But what pushed you to do it? What were you thinking that time?"

A solemn look crosses Yoongi's features. "Seeing boss like that every night, watching me sleep, quietly talking to me, I just thought that..." He pauses, and Hoseok parts his lips in muted shock when a softer expression coats the bodyguard's eyes. "He looked beautiful."

Jimin has the looks; anyone with eyes can see that. But 'beautiful,' Hoseok thinks, is too much of a word for someone like Garam's underboss. Jimin would have scoffed if he heard Yoongi talking about him like this, +

+ especially when every ounce of seriousness and sincerity in the world was ingrained in the man's gaze when he said it. Beauty is a rare thing, if not non-existent, in the world they're living in. Hence, for Yoongi to regard Jimin as such...

"Hey." Hoseok presses his lips together. "Do you feel something for Jimin?"

Yoongi stares at him. "...What?" Hoseok blinks and shakes his head, chuckling at the man's absurd reaction and his own words. "Sorry, just forget it." He smiles. "I'm not in the place to ask this stuff."

At the lack of response from the other man, Hoseok continues, "Jimin trusts a few people and lets even fewer get into his personal space. So, when he took you in, it meant he didn't only trust you but wanted to know more about you."

Leaning back in his seat, Hoseok crosses his arms together. "He invoked an old and almost obsolete tradition that hasn't been done in the Family for over seventy years. That's why Namjoon was firm on lecturing Jimin when he didn't consult his advisor first before taking you in. +

+ And why Chairman Cha took a sudden interest in you. It only occurred to me later what Jimin did, and after talking to Namjoon, I became sure of it."

As the bodyguard listens carefully, Hoseok tilts his head slightly to the side, holding the man's solid and dark gaze, keen on making his point across, and says, "Jimin invoked 'gamssada' for you, Yoongi." ✠

additional tags: • casual sex • promiscuity • voyeurism

Tap. Tap. Tap. Jimin tunes out his subordinate's voice as the man narrates his report about the change of patrol shifts around the warehouse and the docks. His mouth continues to blabber technical stuff that Jimin knows +

+ but currently doesn't give a fuck about. Namjoon is in his office, too, standing beside Jimin's desk and doing the talking for him. Thank God his advisor is here today. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jimin flicks his tongue across his bottom lip as his gaze naturally drifts to the left side of the room, quietly observing the lean figure of a man standing beside the bookcase.

Yoongi is wearing his usual dark suit as he stands tall with both feet apart, his right hand loosely gripping his other wrist as the man fixes a cool and blank stare in front of him, just like what he always does when he's quietly guarding Jimin.

Subconsciously, Jimin's gaze drops to the bodyguard's hand, taking in the prominent veins running along the back with the man's long and bony fingers resting loosely around his left wrist, his thumb occasionally moving to absently stroke the fabric of his coat.

Tap. Tap. Tap. With an elbow propped on the armrest of his office chair, Jimin's eyes darken as he runs a thumb across his bottom lip. Tap. Tap. Tap— "...What do you think, Jimin?" Jimin's index finger pauses on his desk.

Namjoon gives him a raised brow—a glaringly unimpressed look from his advisor. "Are you even listening?" Jimin scoffs. "What do you think?" Then, shifting in his seat, the blond's gaze lands on his subordinate standing before him.

"Continue patrolling the perimeter. Do what Namjoon told you." The man bows his head. "Yes, boss." And when the man's footsteps vanish behind the closed door, the advisor lets out a soft sigh and takes off his spectacles. "Your mind is drifting elsewhere," Namjoon chides him.

"I need you to focus, Jimin." "Daily reports are boring," the blond utters. "Reports are necessary to keep things running smoothly and to avoid drastic incidents." "Then, listen to them for me." "I'm not Garam's underboss; I'm your advisor."

"Precisely." Jimin smirks. "As my advisor, it's your duty to know /everything/, including those goddamn long and boring reports." Namjoon closes his eyes and presses the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Jimin resists the urge to snicker.

"Okay. Listen here, Jimin..." Putting back his spectacles, Namjoon opens his mouth to give Jimin a piece of his big mind, but his train of thought gets interrupted by the knocking sound of a fist hitting the mahogany door. "Come in," Jimin says.

Jungkook emerges from the other side of the door. "Boss," the youngest says, and Jimin notices the tension in his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth. "The distributor is waiting for you in the private lounge." Jimin takes a deep breath and nods. "Thanks, Kook."

"Maybe, you should just invite Mr. Lee here to the office," Namjoon suggests, frowning as the younger stands up to button his coat. "Or maybe, you should be in a different place right now." Jimin walks toward the door. "Hoseok mentioned you're meeting him tonight."

"I can postpone." Namjoon follows him out of the room. "Jimin, look—" "Namjoon." The blond's footsteps halt on the marbled floor, and he turns around to regard his advisor. "I know you don't like Mr. Lee, but he's the fucking distributor, and I have to talk to him."

Namjoon lightly presses his lips together at his response and says, "You know that's not the issue here." Jimin's lashes flutter briefly as his advisor's words weigh upon his shoulders like a grim reminder. After a moment of silence, he calls their youngest, "Kook."

Jungkook lifts his face higher to look at him. "Drive Namjoon to wherever the fuck Hoseok is, will you?" "Jimin—" "My decision is final," Jimin states firmly, cutting off his advisor's protest. "That's an order."

Namjoon swallows thickly as his gaze drops to the empty space between them, seemingly mulling over a thought before letting out a heavy sigh. "Alright," he utters. Then, lifting his eyes to the blond one last time, Namjoon reminds him, "Just... don't let him hurt you."

Jimin's fingers twitch on his side. "No one can hurt me," is all he says in response before Jimin turns around to walk toward the private lounge where the distributor is currently waiting for him.

Yoongi's footsteps behind him echo faintly along the corridor walls, each thump of his soles against the polished floor sounding like dropping bombs to Jimin's ears. "Wait here outside," he tells the bodyguard when they reach the private lounge. "I'm coming with you."

"No." The blond turns around to face him. "You'll stand here and wait—" "I'm coming with you," Yoongi repeats, and whatever word dangling from the blond's tongue dies upon seeing the stern and grim look on the man's face. Jimin feels an odd stir in his chest.

Averting his eyes from the bodyguard, Jimin faces the closed door and fixes his tie. "Do what you want," he says, reaching for the knob to push the door open without sparing another glance in Yoongi's direction.

With the lounge bathed in dim lights and the blue glows from the giant aquarium, Jimin makes his way to the couch to meet his visitor. "Jimin," a man says. "It's been a while." His face lights up when Jimin takes the couch across from him.

"Yeah," Jimin replies, hooking one leg over his thigh. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Lee." The man, Mr. Lee, lifts a curious brow. "You calling me 'Mr. Lee' means we're here for business." "We are," the blond confirms.

The distributor flicks his gaze to the man standing beside the underboss. "Is that your infamous bodyguard I've been hearing around?" "That's none of your business." Jimin's snide reply draws a laugh out of the other man. "Ahh." He smirks. "I fucking missed you."

"Enough chit-chat," he scoffs. "I met with the chairman a few weeks ago." "Oh?" Mr. Lee puts a cigarette stick between his lips. "And?" "There's going to be a deal between Garam and Seulgi." The man's thumb freezes on his lighter.

As heavy silence hangs above their heads, the tension inside the room cutting like a knife, understanding dawns on Mr. Lee's eyes, and he asks, "When?" "17th of March," Jimin answers. "In Daejeon."

"Daejeon. A neutral territory." Mr. Lee huffs an amused sound through his nose and takes a drag of his cigarette. "Seems like both Families don't trust each other." "No one trusts people outside their Family." Jimin tilts his head. "It's basic, common knowledge."

"You don't trust people within your own Family either." An amused smirk tugs at the corners of the man's lips. "How sure are you that this colossal deal between the two Families won't end in bloodshed? That it's not a fucking trap? I refuse to die in a crossfire."

"I'm not a prophet; I can't see the future." Jimin folds his arms together, leveling the other man with a sharp, assertive gaze. "But my people and I will escort you to the meeting place. You'll be as safe as you can possibly be."

Mr. Lee hums at that, and Jimin waits as the man takes his precious time with his cigarette, pondering over the blond's offer. Then, blowing the bitter smoke in front of him, the distributor says, "Alright. I'll do it."

A tiny smirk pulls the corners of Jimin's mouth. "I knew you'll come around." Mr. Lee snorts. "How could I not?" He nods in Yoongi's direction. "That scary guy has been staring at me like he wants to wring my fucking neck."

The jest slips Jimin, and he briefly turns his gaze to the bodyguard beside him. Yoongi looks tensed. There's a faint crease between his dark brows, and the corners of his mouth are pinched together. He's unusually alert and on edge, like a predatory hound stalking its prey.

Was it because of what Namjoon said? "If that's all, then I'll get going." When Mr. Lee motions to stand up from the couch, Jimin turns his attention back to him and says, "There's another thing." The distributor looks at him. "A personal request."

"What kind?" "An intel." Jimin holds the man's gaze. "I need a name." Mr. Lee narrows his eyes. "You're planning to use my network." "Yes," the blond confirms. "Even if I hate to admit it, your information network is better than mine."

The man chuckles and licks the nicotine off his bottom lip. "I do have a lot of 'friends.'" "Will you help me or not?" Jimin impatiently asks. Mr. Lee lets out a low chuckle and leans forward to kill his cigarette on the ashtray. "I'm a businessman, Jimin," he begins.

"I don't lend my services or give information for free. I have a high professional fee because everyone in the mob scene knows I get my job done smoothly. No loose ends. No fuck-ups."

Resting his chin on a closed fist, Mr. Lee stares at him long enough for Jimin to notice the dark glint in the man's eyes. Then, the distributor says with a knowing smirk, "And you, out of all people, know my price for a personal query."

Jimin sees a slight movement beside him through the edge of his vision, but before his mind can process any unnecessary and unwarranted thoughts, he flashes Mr. Lee a smirk and says, "Good timing. I'm way overdue."

Standing up from the couch, Jimin opens the button of his coat and loosens the tie around his neck. "Because sleep has been a bitch lately." Chuckling, Mr. Lee pushes himself up to his feet. "I can help you with that."