“Namjoon, this… this is lunacy.” Yoongi stares at his leader in wide-eyed disbelief. He wonders if his leader’s lack of sleep is affecting his judgement, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Namjoon removes his glasses, cleaning them on the edge of his shirt. “Maybe it is. But it’s the best we can do right now.”

“The best we can do?” Taehyung’s tone is laced with panic. “That can’t be true. If this goes wrong, [Y/n] could be seriously hurt—“

“I know,” Their leader cuts him off with a sympathetic but firm gaze. “and I won’t force her into it.”

“What about Hwasa or Byul?” Yoongi offers. “Even Yongsun or Wheein, they could pull off the innocent act, and all have more experience than [Y/n].”

“This isn’t about experience,” Namjoon sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “Bigbang is targeting [Y/n] specifically. There’s a higher chance of success if she’s involved. And, because she’s valuable to them, she’s less likely to be hurt.”

“She’s an amateur,” Yoongi counters flatly. “She’s capable, but even if her brother wants her unharmed, there’s no guarantee the rest of the gang will share that sentiment. Namjoon, you can’t think this will actually work.”

“I know it will,” Namjoon insists. “[Y/n] has proven to be very capable. Yoongi, you’ve been training her personally and your glowing report after the last mission speaks for itself.”

Yoongi’s cheeks flush, he glares at the carpet in silence.

“And,” Namjoon continues, “she doesn’t have the aura of a killer. Gowon won’t know the extent of her involvement with us, it’ll be easy to convince him she ran off.”

Taehyung begins pacing, running his hands through his hair anxiously. “This just can’t happen. That man nearly killed Hoseok, and he’s—Hoseok.” Yoongi nods gravely. For once, they can agree.

“He is dangerous. I’m not suggesting otherwise.” Namjoon glances pointedly from Taehyung to Yoongi. “But what this really comes down to is trust. Do you trust [Y/n]? More importantly, do you trust me?”

~~

“I trust you.”

You pop your head through the door to Namjoon’s office, surprised at how confident your voice sounds in comparison to your racing mind and heart. You’re greeted by the shocked faces of the three men holed up inside. You put on a brave smile. “Mind if I cut in? Apparently, this concerns me.”

Namjoon nods, gesturing you inside. You shut the door, wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans and take a seat in front of his desk next to Yoongi. Your last vague memory of the night before is falling asleep outside the piano room, and you can’t help but jump to conclusions as to how you made it back to your bed. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you focus on Namjoon’s.

“So, who is this guy you’re all worried about?” You ask, stealing a look at one of the many papers strewn all over the desk’s surface.

“Song Gowon,” Namjoon explains. “He was… well, let’s just call him a close family friend. But when I took over as leader, he distanced himself from Bangtan. We started noticing cash going missing periodically on jobs he was associated with, but his connections with the ‘old guard’, so to speak, delayed our suspicions.”

The old guard.

A photograph on the desk catches your eye, a worn portrait of a group of deadly-serious men in tacky suits, among them, a young Song Gowon. In the middle of the huddle stands an elegant woman. Her aura is so commanding, you can practically feel it seeping into the present from this captured moment in time. Her eyes bear a striking resemblance to Namjoon’s.

“So, you didn’t catch him?” you ask, stifling your curiosity about the photo as you set it back down.

Namjoon sighs. “A week ago, he got bolder. He shook down a nightclub in our territory and ran off with the money. We sent Hoseok in to take care of him, but he’s a veteran. And he had help from the VIPs.”

“When you say… ‘take care of’,” you shiver.

“This isn’t like your last job. Song Gowon’s life was over the moment he stole from us.” Namjoon says it so easily that you feel sick to your stomach. You put a hand over your mouth.

Taehyung puts a comforting hand on your back. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. You take a breath.

“Obviously, I wouldn’t ask you to help for free. You would be compensated generously.”

At this, your eyes fall to Yoongi, who’s been silently brooding this whole time. He won’t meet your eyes. Guilt bubbles in your stomach. Images of his family come to mind. Anonymous checks. Zero contact. He’s busting to help them financially, and you’re leeching his bounty earnings. But if you earned your own keep…

“…Hyung, [Y/n] is not a killer. She shouldn’t be involved.” Snapping out of your reverie, you only catch the end of Taehyung’s sentence.

“Tae,” you stop him, meeting his eyes and giving his hand a squeeze. “thanks. But I want to hear the rest. Why is it so important that I help?”

Namjoon clears his throat, pushing up his glasses. “Well, it seems that Bigbang already knows our location.”

“What?” You blurt. Taehyung gapes. Even Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot upward.

Namjoon nods. “Their vehicles have been circling the premises these past few days. Originally, we believed their movement was connected to Park Chanyeol. But he’s back with his family, so—”

“It’s me,” your brow furrows. “My brother, you think he has something to do with this?”

“I believe he’s taking advantage of Gowon’s greed to find you. But I think you can understand the further implications of contact with a traitor. The VIPs don’t know enough about us to openly challenge us yet, but the more they learn, the closer we are to an all-out turf war.”

“Lovely,” you breathe.

“Since your oppa is so keen on finding you,” Namjoon stares at you pointedly, and you can’t help but grimace, “the other gang members will jump at the chance to appease him without rushing into a major conflict uninformed.”

Silence falls. You absorb this for a moment, eyes jumping from Namjoon’s pleading expression to Taehyung’s attempt to conceal anger and finally to Yoongi’s trademark poker face. You swallow the lump in your throat and haltingly ask, “What would you have me do?”

~~

An hour later, you sit cross-legged in your bed, wringing your hands and steeling your resolve for tonight’s mission. You tug the suitcase Jimin loaned you close to your knees, fiddling with the zipper. Some of Hwasa’s old clothes are inside, for the sake of realism.

The plan cycles repeatedly through your mind in steps. Leave a voicemail for Oppa, ‘storm off’ to the bar, meet with Gowon, roofie his drink…

You jolt at a sudden, rapid knocking at your door.

You get up off of your bed and hurry over, fully expecting an angry Taehyung to continue your earlier argument about your participation in Gowon’s case. “Tae,” you call weakly, “I’m sorry, but I need to do this.” You open the door, but instead of your old friend, a visibly pissed-off Min Yoongi stares you down from the hallway. Considering his stoic in Namjoon’s office, you’re floored.

“Yoongi…” you gasp. “Why… did you come here?”

He doesn’t say a word, fuming as he walks past you into the room. You shut the door behind him, hugging yourself as your eyes follow his restless pacing. Abruptly, he stops at your bed. Turns on his heel.

“Hey,” you begin cautiously, “um, about last night—“

“[Y/n]. Do you have a ing death wish?”

You’re stunned speechless at his murderous tone. Before you know it, he’s right up in your face.

“I just don’t understand how someone could be so colossally stupid.” He seethes. “I mean, I knew you were reckless from the moment I met you, but putting yourself in the sights of a homicidal maniac to help the gangsters who’ve been extorting you is just… It’s baffling. You’re a goddamn wonder.”

“Yoon—“

“I’m not finished,” he barks, voice thick with a satoori accent and growing more heated as he goes on. “As well as being woefully unprepared, you’re so damned stubborn that even a friend you’ve known for years can’t convince you to back out of this, much less me.” By the end you can barely understand his words, but you get the gist; you place your balled fists on your hips.

“You’re right,” you snap, hating the hurt you hear in your voice. “I already know you don’t have confidence in me, you’ve made that very clear. And I’m doing this anyway. So, why are you here?”

Instead of answering, Yoongi pulls his gun from his side. He grabs your hands and presses the cold metal into them, laying his own, larger ones on top. You freeze, taken aback by the contrast in body heat and industrial steel. His eyes search yours, ringed with deep sadness. “Have you ever seen someone die, [Y/n]?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes falling the weapon in your hands. “It’s not something you just walk off,” He goes on. “That changes you. I am a terrible, ed up human being, but even I know that life has worth. Watching it snuffed out isn’t something you should have to deal with.”

Your hands start to tremble. “Then, I’ll cover my eyes,” you offer lamely, looking down at the floor.

Yoongi groans in exasperation, slamming the gun on your nightstand with a smack and grimacing painfully as he reaches both hands out to cup your cheeks, then your ears. “Are you listening to yourself?”

You try your hardest to breathe evenly as you stare at your shoes. They’re the ones he first loaned you after you nearly died. “If I earn more money then… you can send more home.”

You hear Yoongi inhale sharply. There’s a stretch of long silence before he forces you to look him in the eye. “I don’t know where you heard that, but they’re not your responsibility.” He speaks slowly, deliberately, almost as if to a child. “What I’m saying is that it could be you. I could watch you die. Do you think I could ing handle that, [Y/n]?”

You blink slowly, unsure if what he’s saying, wondering if his close proximity, his touch, is real or some vivid hallucination. “W-what?”

Yoongi’s lips press into a hard line. He rubs his temples, his voice barely a whisper. “ it.”

In all of two heartbeats, he backs you against the door, moving one arm down to your waist, circling the other around your back, and drawing you impossibly close. Dazed, you close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead he traces the outline of your lips with his tongue, leaving you so surprised that your breath hitches, your mouth forming a little ‘o’.

That’s when he attacks, greedily stealing your breath away with hungry kisses. Your initial shock wears off a bit and you struggle to keep up, melting into him as heat flares in your chest, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you run a hand through his silky blond hair.

He seizes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back a bit, and you feel a moan rising in your throat. You feverishly run your hands over his tensed arm muscles, panting between kisses as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

When he pulls away slightly, eyes glinting with desire, your eyes flit to his swollen lips. A smile takes over your face. “You’re good at this.”

He rakes his fingers through your hair, kissing your temple. You clutch the hem of his jacket and hum at the pleasant sensation. “I’m a genius, what did you expect?” He moves on to your forehead, your cheeks. “I wanted to do that for a long ing time.”

“Really?” You gape, in awe of his open acknowledgement of his feelings.

“Really,” he mumbles, kissing your nose and going red up to the tips of his ears.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him and squeeze, nuzzling your face into his warm chest as tears sting the corners of your eyes. “Me, too.” You can hear his heart, beating erratically as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you back.

You stay like that for a long time, eyes closed, breathing deeply, neither of you saying a word as your heartbeats slow down and gradually sync up. There’s a simple comfort that comes with holding him, being held by him. You’re both scared of what’s to come, but encircled in warmth, you can believe that it’ll be okay.

When you finally do move away, you catch sight of an expression you’ve never seen on Yoongi’s face before. It’s a gummy smile so soft, so pure that it gives you butterflies. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll return it to him on as many occasions as humanly possible.

Yoongi glances at his watch and his smile falls. “Two hours. You’re going, right?” You nod. “Not alone,” he adds, taking your hand.

“Not alone,” you repeat. It’s soft, like a prayer. “I should leave that voicemail.”

~~

Lee Jong Suk has a policy—no drinking on the job.

He loves a good drink every now and then, of course. He owns a bar for crissake. But he never mixes his personal and professional interests. He needs a clear head to deal with rowdy fights or the occasional ert. Not to mention being sober is essential for the establishment’s other purposes.

But this night is really testing his patience.

Tonight, the top-shelf bourbon is calling for him, and his mouth feels extra-dry just thinking about it. His boss has been on his lately about his brat of a sister, and the human equivalent of a tank sitting at his bar, emitting an aura that would make blossoming roses wilt, is scaring away his usual customers.

“Another,” the man calls gruffly.

“Gowon-ssi,” Jong Suk sighs, wiping the empty countertop to the right of the man’s beefy forearms even though this is the seventh time he has done so in the past hour. “I think you’ve had enough, no? Why not call it a night?”

“Another,” Gowon repeats, clenching his fist until his veins are bulging. The barkeep’s eyebrows twitch in barely-concealed irritation as he hands him another pitcher of beer.

He takes a peek at the crowd of people huddling on the dance floor. They seem to be having a fine enough time, but not one of them ventures away to buy a drink. The flocks avoiding an apex predator, Jong Suk muses. His eyes flick to the bourbon.

Suddenly, the door chimes and in rushes a breathless young woman rolling a suitcase.

Jong Suk does a double take at the sight of the familiar face. “[Y/n],” he mutters to himself.

“[Y/n]?” Song Gowon lifts his head, his beady eyes sliding to your flustered form in the doorway. “That’s her? Seungri’s—?”

“Don’t speak so informally,” Jong Suk snaps. “But yes, that’s her.” In spite of his ty mood thus far, the corners of Jong Suk’s mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “I guess tonight has the potential to be interesting.”

~~

Kang Chul’s has a vastly different appearance in the fading light of dusk.

You push open the door and your fist tightens around the handle of your suitcase, knuckles going white as you struggle to contain your nerves. Your Oppa never picked up your call, as per usual, but you left him a frantic voicemail, nonetheless.

Your eyes briefly search the throngs of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and fall on a tall, majestic girl with long hair bangs, and another noticeably shorter one whose hair is swept back into cute braids. You feel a bit lighter.

But that feeling doesn’t last, because when you see the hulking bohemith hunched over the bar, much larger and more imposing than his photo counterpart, you immediately freak out internally, bite your lips and take a deep breath, trying to control the rolling in your stomach. Luckily, this time you’re supposed to look flustered.

Not wasting any more time standing near the door like a weirdo, you make your way straight for the bar. No one else is there even though the place is pretty full, and you can see why. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you roll your suitcase under the bar and hop onto the stool next to Song Gowon’s, trying your hardest not to look at him.

“Bomi-ssi,” the bartender greets you with a stunning smile, and you blink for a second before you remember that, duh, that’s what you told him your name was.

“Jong Suk-ssi,” you do a small bow, running a hand through your hair and doing your best not to make your own smile look forced.

“As I recall, last time it was Jong Suk oppa,” he purrs. “What happened with that boyfriend of yours?”

You giggle and roll your eyes. “That’s all ancient history.”

“And that blond guy from last time?”

For a second, your jaw drops. Jong Suk an eyebrow and you school your features into an indignant pout. “Oppa, you’re so nosy. I don’t wanna talk about it,” you whine.

“Awww, how sad. What can I get you, then?”

Your mind races. Your job is to drug Song Gowon’s drink, but how exactly are you supposed to go about that? Slip it in while he’s going to the bathroom? Seduce him? Confide in Jong Suk and ask him for help…? Before you can answer, there’s a loud smack as an empty glass hits the bar. “Another,” the man beside you growls. A shiver runs down your spine.

“I’m helping another customer,” Jong Suk snaps a bit too briskly.

“No, no!” You chirp, suddenly getting an idea. “It’s fine. Actually, I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“You sure?” Jong Suk’s tone is incredulous.

“It’s been a rough day, that looks like just the right amount of alcohol to me!” You laugh, gesturing at the man beside you. “Hell, I’ll buy his drink, too.”

Song Gowon eyes you the way a lion eyes a lone gazelle. You gulp. Suddenly, a hint of smile warps his gruff features. He pats you on the back so hard that you double over.

“I like this one,” he chuckles. “The next one’s on me, Pipsqueak.”

“Th-thank you,” you laugh, keenly aware of the pill hidden in your sweater-sleeve.

The bartender sets both pitchers on the counter with an amazed expression. “Here you are.”

As if your interaction with him has lessened their fears, some of the other customers come trickling toward the bar, Jong Suk lets out a relieved smile and winks at you before attending to them.

With his focus elsewhere, just as Gowon reaches for his pitcher, you suddenly raise your voice. “A-Ajussi!”

His hand freezes. “Song Gowon,” he corrects gruffly.

“Song-ssi, could you tell me what time it is?” He nods, turning to look at the analog clock above the doorway. You breathe a shaky sigh and swiftly drop the pill from your sleeve into the nearest pitcher, checking in your peripherals to make sure no one saw.

“9:26,” he answers, and you hold the pitcher out to him in thanks.

“Cheers,” you chime, feeling the slightest bit guilty as your glasses clink together.

It doesn’t take long for him to get woozy. You distract him with idle chatter as he yawns, eyelids drooping, until he eventually passes out cold, smacking his forehead on the countertop.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jong Suk’s brow furrows. “We need to call him a cab.”

“I’ll do it!” You offer, grabbing your phone to signal Bangtan with one hand and trying rather unsuccessfully to hoist his arm around your shoulders with the other. Jong Suk hurries to your side and takes the phone from your hand, rushing to support Gowon’s other side and shaking his head.

“I already told Jamie to call our preferred cab company. I’m a corporate sellout, ya know?” He smiles like a prince, but that smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and you start to feel a bit uneasy.

“What about the bar?” you protest. “I can do this, I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” he laughs. “but just indulge me for now. We’re heading out this way.” Jong Suk leads the way as the two of you carry the unconscious Gowon out the back entrance and into the alley. You shiver at the sudden chill in the air.

“We’re going to the curb, so this way, right?” You start to walk briskly, your muscles burning, but Jong Suk doesn’t follow you and you can’t budge. Before you can ask any questions, he abruptly lets go of Song Gowon altogether, causing him to slip from your hands and slump down onto the concrete.

“Hey, wha—”

Without a word, in one fluid motion, Jong Suk pulls you to his side and covers your mouth. He steps back a few paces, whips a gun out of his leather jacket and aims it at the back of Song Gowon’s head.

You struggle, but Jog Suk’s grip tightens around you. You squeeze your eyes shut.

BANG!

~~

“I don’t like this.” Taehyung squirms in the passenger seat a few blocks from Kang Chul’s, alternating between holding the binoculars to his eyes in search of any suspicious movement and drumming his fingers against the dashboard. “She’s in danger.”

“She has backup,” Hoseok replies for the thousandth time, his feet propped up on the steering wheel as he fiddles with his gun. “Getting antsy won’t solve anything.”

“You’re being so blunt, Hyung.” Taehyung complains, giving Hobi a sulky glare. “You’re supposed to comfort me and tell me everything will be okay.”

Hobi sets down his gun and pinches Tae’s cheek with a smile that would put the sun to shame. “Don’t worry, Tae. She’ll be okay. Have a little faith.” He jiggles Tae’s cheeks a bit and the boy slaps his hand away.

“Very helpful, Hyung.” Tae grumbles.

“She’ll give us a signal when she’s successfully roofied the guy, and then you can rush in and white-knight her all you want, okay?” Hobi says in sing-song.

“I know, but hasn’t it been too long? What if she’s in trouble?”

“You’re seriously annoying,” Hoseok picks his gun back up. “Why don’t you take a cue from Yoongi-hyung? He’s being super calm about this.”

“When is he not calm?” Taehyung groans, tilting his head to see the backseat. When he does, his eyes instantly widen. “Wait, what?!”

“What is it now?” Hoseok rolls his eyes and matches Taehyung’s gaze. “Oh, .”

The backseat is empty, the door on Yoongi’s side left wide open.

~~

There’s so much blood.

You try to keep your eyes away from it, from the puddle oozing wider and wider on the concrete, from the body—now a corpse—sprawled in front of you. Your vocal cords fail you, all you can do is mouth the words, “oh my god”, over and over as tears stream down your cheeks.

Jong Suk pulls away from you and stashes the gun back in his pocket. He then quickly takes out his phone and dials, his tone conveying great distress, “Yes, hi, there’s been a suicide here at Kang Chul’s. One of the customers. He was piss drunk. Thank you.” He hangs up and his face immediately becomes an emotionless mask as he turns briskly toward you. “Let’s go.”

“What? What are you… you just killed him!” You shriek, stepping away slowly. Your knees are shaking.

He closes the distance between you and covers your mouth harshly. “Shut up. He was a liability. Your people wanted him dead. So did mine. Now we’re going back to your beloved Oppa, [Y/n]. Hurry up.”

“You… know my name,” you gape. He doesn’t answer, he simply drags you away from the growing commotion of people who heard the gunshot, through a series of back alleys. “You’re with them.” The realization that he must be one of the VIPs hits you like a ton of bricks, and a wave of shame washes over you. How could you not have realized? How could you let this happen?

“What a shock.” A low voice stops Jong Suk dead in his tracks, and he presses his gun to your temple instinctually. You gasp as Yoongi, his own gun at the ready, emerges from the shadows.

“Yoongi,” you murmur tearfully.

“How convenient,” a cold smile twists Jong Suk’s handsome features unrecognizably. “You came. Just as I hoped.”

“Put the gun down,” Yoongi commands. “Get away from her.”

“I think we both know if we shoot, we’ll be hounded by police,” Jong Suk taunts. “I might be willing to take my chances if it means killing you, though.”

“Me?” Yoongi scoffs.

“You’ve been poking your nose where you shouldn’t, Daegu trash. I know you’ve got a little grudge against my boss.” Yoongi’s jaw tightens. “Getting rid of you would mean saving his neck. And if I save Seungri’s dongsaeng on top of that? I’m set for life.”

“Yoongi-ah, run,” you beg. “He won’t shoot me, but he’ll kill you. He killed Song Gowon.”

“She’s right. I will kill you.” Jong Suk’s tone is dripping with arrogance. Yoongi, meanwhile, lets out a cynical laugh and lowers his gun slowly.

“You VIP guys are pretty intimidating,” he admits. “If I had one note, though, it’s that your teamwork is absolute .”

Before Jong Suk has time to look confused, the tall, long-haired girl from the bar, Byul, lands a punch square on the side of his head. He staggers, letting go of you, and the girl with the braids, Wheein, yanks his gun away and kicks him in the stomach with her high heel. He groans and falls painfully to the ground.

“Nice work,” Yoongi lets out a relieved smile, then locks eyes with you.

“That felt good,” Wheein pipes.

Byul glances back and forth between you and Yoongi and a devilish smile surfaces on her face. “We’ll report back with Hoseok and V and take care of this one,” she glowers at the unmoving Jong Suk, “you should get [Y/n] home, Suga. She looks like she had a rough time.” Wheein nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“Thank you,” you manage, feeling the urge to start crying at their kindness.

“Thanks,” Yoongi takes your cold hand in his warm one, intertwining your fingers and squeezing tight. “Let’s go.”

The two of you walk hand in hand through the streets for awhile. You try to focus on Yoongi’s comforting smell and the feel of his hand and the quietness of the night. Still, though, the gunshot echoes in your ears on repeat. You can’t forget it. Eventually, you come to a halt.

“You alright?” Yoongi stops, too, worry etched into his brow.

You slowly shake your head, letting the tears you’ve been holding back overflow into heaving, hysterical sobs. Yoongi wraps his arms around your back and begins to sway as you cry into his chest, gripping the fabric of his coat. He caresses your hair soothingly and repeats in a low, calming voice, “It’s gonna be okay, [Y/n]. It’s gonna be okay.”

You can’t tell how long he’s been holding you, maybe for an eternity, but when you’re done crying he pulls back a bit, placing delicate kisses on your swollen eyelids, on your brow. He pecks your lips. You let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you,” you manage a broken smile.

“Any time,” he replies, running his hands over your arms lovingly. “I’m sorry this happened.”

You shake your head. “No, it was my choice.”

“Do you regret it?”

You flinch in surprise, searching his eyes for the hidden meaning in that question. Do you regret me?

This time it’s your turn to snake your arms around his back and hold him tight. “I don’t,” you arch your head up and flutter your eyelashes against his cheek. “Butterfly kiss.” Then, you place your forehead against his and shake your head, rubbing your noses together. “Eskimo kiss,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s eyebrows jump, and he blinks. And there’s that gummy smile again. “You know what kind of kiss I like best?”

You open your mouth to answer and he steals your lips, cradling your head with one hand and drawing you closer with the other. You lean into him and kiss him back sweetly.

“Ayo, lovebirds!” The two of you leap apart at the sound of Hoseok’s voice calling out the window of his van as it pulls up beside you. “Get your butts in here, it’s cold outside!”

You flush, a bit embarrassed, and notice that Yoongi’s cheeks are red, too. Still, he acts composed as he flashes that tiny Suga smile and calls back, “Yes, sir.”