BANGTAN'S GIRL

- in which your only goal is to eliminate all bangtan please your dad, but a certain mafia boss with ebony eyes and tattoos has other plans; requested by @CheymaKahouach3

Your patience is wearing thin as you sigh in agitation and drop your hand onto the wooden table, immediately allowing your fingers to tap across the surface as if that will speed things up but you shouldn't have expected any less.

Your father is well known for being habitually tardy.

What annoys you more than the fact that he's not yet sitting in front of you is the fact that he called you in here himself and, while you hope for something a lot more thrilling or rewarding, you can't help but believe that he's only called you in to scold and beat you for putting another one of his men in hospital.

It can't possibly be your fault that all the men he brings in to train you are simply weak in comparison to you.

A smug chuckle pushes past your lips at the thought; however, it is ripped from your throat the second you hear the door click open, your body rigid as you jump to stand.

You bow down respectfully as he passes, not even daring to look up at him, praying that he can't see the way you're shaking. Thankfully, he only offers you a tight smile as he lowers himself onto the leather chair in front of you, motioning for you to do the same.

Once seated, he slides a black folder towards you with a sigh.

Eagerly, you pull it towards you, your fingers tingling as you gently open it up, eyes focusing in on the only word printed onto the page, the bold letters giving you making your stomach churn as if you know that this isn't going to end well.

BANGTAN

Your eyes then flick up to meet the cold ones of your father with a quirked eyebrow, his nonchalant shrug sending a fearful shudder down your spine as he lights the cigarette in between his chapped lips.

Your nose wrinkles at the stench.

"They've been causing way too much trouble for my liking," he explains as a puff of smoke follows his venom-dripping words, clouding your vision and burning your lungs. You don't complain, however, and instead flick through the folder in hopes of distracting yourself slightly.

You're met with seven profile pages for each member, the photos at the top grainy and blurred as if they've been pulled from CCTV footage. Cursing under your breath, you realise that not having good enough photos will make whatever it is your father wants you to do so much harder so you return to the first profile page and keep reading.

'Kim Namjoon', it reads, 'Age 25, skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Last seen with pale purple hair, above average height and a cross tattoo underneath his ear.'

You purse your lips together as you turn the page, barely even noticing your father's hooded gaze on your figure. While reading through their profiles, you do your best to memorise all that you can about them so that, should you need to find them, you won't be of nowhere, your subconscious telling you that your father may want you to do just that.

You, however, pause on the last page, your heart strangely skipping a beat at the grainy yet visible picture of a man with disheveled jet black hair and tattoos running from his right arm to his neck.

"Jeon Jungkook," you mutter to yourself, finger ghosting over the printed name on the page, your eyes lingering for a few more moments before they dip down to read the rest.

'Age 23, trained in all forms of combat and weapon use. Last seen with black hair and a tattoo sleeve beginning with a blood red rose,' it reads rather nonchalantly as if this Jungkook isn't a huge threat on his own. 'Mafia boss.'

So he's the leader? you think to yourself with a shudder, knowing very well that he's going to be the hardest to get to, no matter what your father wishes you to do with them.

"What's the job?" you question meekly, your father's stare shooting daggers at you the minute you muster up enough courage to meet his eye.

"Kill them," he menacingly growls, "and make sure no-one is left behind."

You watch in frozen fear as he pulls his own gun out of the holder strapped around his waist, the golden Greek letter alpha engraved on the side glinting in the pale light of the room as he slides it in your direction.

With a show of enthusiasm, a lot more than you actually have, you bring the gun up and cock it with a smirk.

"Yes, sir."

You push yourself to stand, ready to begin your manhunt but your father grunts to catch your attention, your eyebrows knitting together slightly.

"Fuck this up, Y/N," he drags with a lazy smile," and I'll kill you myself."

Your fingers curl even tighter around the gun as you bow, holding your tears and trembles back as you calmly leave the room.

*

The thunder struck loudly on that particular evening, the wind howling and wailing as if warning you to run and never look back.

You should've listened.

"D-daddy," you trembled, knuckles white as you clutched the material of the bottom of his coat tightly in between your fists, eyes wide and stomach churning at the sight of a man bleeding out in front of you, his bloodied hands desperately attempting to reach a gun with a bronze beta symbol carved into its hilt laying in front of your feet, his blue eyes slowly dimming with life as they locked with yours.

You should've looked away but you feared the coldness you'd find in your father's eyes, feared confirming that it was him who shot this man, feared knowing what your father had kept away from you for ten years.

Fear had made itself home within you.

The lights in the hallway of the mansion your father had taken you for a company event that had once made you feel warm and safe, now blind you sickeningly, their glow too harsh against your skin.

You wanted to go home, tears pricking your eyes and falling delicately onto your eyelashes.

Your father grabbed onto your thin wrists, forcefully releasing your grip on his jacket as he turned to crouch down in front of you, his familiar smiling face blocking the sight of the dead body.

That smile once reassured you with its warmth and love but you find that it now disgusts you.

"Oh, petal," he cooed, twirling a strand of your soft hair around his index finger before letting it fall to frame your face. "Don't look so scared. In a few years time, you'll be by my side, doing the very same thing."

You flinched away from the hand that affectionately reached out to caress your cheek, breathing heavily as your head lolled to the side and his eyebrows furrowed together at the outburst.

Then, ever so slowly, you shook your head.

"Never," you spat, ripping your wrists out of his hold with a grunt. "I will never be as evil as you. You're sick!"

He chuckled humourlessly, latching onto your forearm before you could even think to make a run for it, his tight grip a signal for you to shut up. "It's not like you have a choice, do you?"

You whimpered as he stood to his full height and dragged you along beside him, ignoring your whines of pain and weak attempts to beat at his back. Your breathing was starting to get dangerously fast, heart pumping so heavily in your chest in an attempt to catch up.

"Your daddy is a fucking mafia boss!" he laughed, kicking the hand of yet another person victim to his brutality to clear a path in front of him. "That automatically makes you next in line and don't think I'm joking when I say that I will hold this gun up to your head myself if you tell me that you don't want to do it ever again. Do you fucking understand me?"

Lightheaded, you couldn't find in yourself to fight back, your head dropping in compliance. "Yes, sir. Just...please don't hurt me."

"Of course, princess," he whispered, crouching down once more to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Follow my rules and nothing will ever happen to you."

*

The evening's cool breath sifts through the layers of your hair in a manner that makes you feel as if you should be enjoying it with a book, not shivering with your back pressed against the damp wall of an alley, fingers curled hesitantly around the trigger of your father's gun.

Swallowing thickly, you crane your neck to the side, sticking your head out far enough to see the parking lot ahead of you but not so far that you can easily be caught. Your eyes latch onto the sight of two men of the same height leaving a nearby store with two bags each, their voices far too distant for you to be able to pick up on what they're saying.

Skeptically, you allow your eyes to roam over the two figures until you spot a small gun sticking out of the pocket of the man on the right, the tell-tale geometrical symbol of the gang sticking out to you like a sore thumb.

You gulp.

Shifting ever so silently, you suck on the inside of your cheek, eyes narrowing as you attempt to match the faces of these men to the names printed neatly in that folder your father handed you about three weeks ago.

The first thing you notice is the bright yet alluring blue hair of the man on the right, certain that there was one particular person within the seven that was caught with the same do. His lips, thin yet the colour of rose petals, are stretched out into a grin of affection as he watches his partner stumble ahead in front of him, most likely spouting something funny because your ears are immediately blessed with the sound of deep, rumbling laughter.

Kim Taehyung; attractive, no doubt, but the dimness of his eyes tell you that there's something more to his character.

Without so much as a second of hesitation, you flick your eyes to the man standing next to Taehyung, the breath filling you up disappearing in a heartbeat.

If Taehyung is handsome, then this man is simply ethereal.

With skin like that of a doll, this man possesses rounded cheeks that lead to a structured and sharp jawline, giving him the duality he needs to make him both scarily intimidating and endearingly cute. His lips are thick and full, stretched out to reveal a set of bucked out teeth, giving him a childlike glow. His eyes, however, are what draw you in, the enticing brown of them tickling your skin with rows of goosebumps and making your heart flutter uncharacteristically.

But your heart completely stops when you catch sight of the blood red rose inked into the pale skin of this man's hand.

'Jeon Jungkook,' you realise with a sharp exhale, eyes widening in pure fear.

As you had uttered that out loud, Jungkook's eyes snap to where you stand, your heart plummeting to your feet as you hastily pull yourself away from his line of view, hands clasped together as you pray that he didn't see you and that your stupid mistake didn't just cost you this mission.

You already know what will happen if you fuck this up, your body tensing up at the stinging sensation that spreads across your back, eyes squeezing shut in fear as you can almost just see the figure of your enraged father standing behind you with his bloodied whip, eyes cold yet rimmed with a wild animosity.

You rip yourself out of your thoughts and risk taking another look, daring to release a sigh of relief when you see Jungkook say something to Taehyung before swiftly turning on his heel and heading back into the store.

With a tremor, you press yourself back against the wall and cock the gun, breathing heavily as you think through the next steps of your plan, watching from the corner of your eye as Taehyung sits himself in the car. From this angle, you could hit him in the side of the head with a single bullet, killing him instantly, and then wait for Jungkook to return and do the same to him.

After that, all that's left to do is find the others.

Muttering words of encouragement under your breath in hopes of distracting you from the fact that you're about to kill a man, you check if everything is okay with your gun and raise it, arching your back against the wall so that you're still hidden but can see your target.

1

2

3

Your finger never makes it to the trigger as your body is suddenly caged by another, gun being ripped from your hand so effortlessly that it makes you question whether or not you were hoping for it to happen.

Stunned, you look up to meet ebony eyes glistening with flecks of amusement, anger and disbelief, the smoky scent, a pleasant mix of sandalwood and vanilla, of his body just inches away from yours radiating off him in slow, warm waves as he lifts a hand to press your own gun against your forehead harshly.

It's then that you realise who you're looking at; Jeon Jungkook.

"And what do you think you're doing with this, pretty?" he chuckles huskily as if your futile attempt is hilarious to him, his warm breath fanning your upper lip.

Whether it's from fear or for loyalty, you stay silent with your lips pressed together as you squirm in his grip, wincing every so often with the barrel of the gun scratching up against the side of your head.

Jungkook, however, lets you have your fun, looking bored while waiting with a quirked eyebrow for you to realise that there's no way you're getting away from him.

Unfortunately for you, your persistence begins to annoy him.

He tightens his grip on your wrist and closes in on you, engulfing you with his oddly comforting scent, the faint scent of gunpowder blending itself in with the cool metal being pressed further against your skin, his eyes hooded as he casts you a grim look.

"Fine," he growls under his breath, "we'll do this a different way."

He moves his finger to hover over the trigger, lips pressing themselves together into a thin line before he speaks.

"Who are you and why the fuck are you trying to kill me?" he asks calmly, taking you completely by surprise as you expected him to yell, maybe even do your father a favour and shoot you.

With a hesitant gulp, you flick your eyes up to challenge his dagger-like gaze with one of your own, taken aback by the flecks of golden worry swimming in his orbs instead of the cold lifelessness you usually see in the eyes of your father. Your heart clenches at the sight of it, finally dawning on you that the worry he has is for Taehyung, who is sitting obliviously in the car for the return of his leader, and the other members; his brothers.

His family.

Guilt rips into your heart, expelling the thought of the threat your father made from your mind as you find yourself feeling sick to the stomach at the sudden realisation of the fact that you were just about to try and destroy those he loves most.

And, through the churning of your stomach, your hands clench together in envy over the fact that Taehyung and the five other members of their gang have someone there to care for them, to worry for their safety.

They all have someone who loves them.

"Tell me now," he breathes and, in that split second when all you can feel is the warmth of his embrace settling over your skin and the softness of his breath kissing at your upper lip, you forget all about your father, the heavy fear he holds over your head and the fucked up business he's in.

Before you know it, you're opening your mouth.

"Y/N," you blurt out with a choked sob, clutching onto the bottom of your shirt, "Kim Y/N, daughter of Kim Hwang-soo, mafia boss of Mythos."

Jungkook inhales sharply, instinctively tightening his grip on your wrist.

"He sent me out here to kill you and your entire gang so that there are no threats against his name," you explain with little hesitation, watching as his expression morphs into one of confusion and shock, his movements slow as he loosens his grip on you enough for it to be comfortable and moves your arm to your side, taking a careful step back while sliding the gun into his own pocket.

"Kim Hwang-soo?" he mutters, thumb almost mindlessly rubbing a slow circle onto the throbbing skin of your wrist. "That fucker sent you out here to kill us?"

All you can do is nod.

"Why are you telling me?" he then asks skeptically, habitually stretching his hand out to catch a stray tear hanging from the edge of your chin. You shake your head numbly, offering him a mindless shrug.

"I don't want to be like him. I don't want to hurt people."

In the few milliseconds after you utter those words, you panic, slapping a hand over your mouth in shock that you said that to a man you barely know. Jungkook, too, seems to freeze at your words before pulling away from you to stare at you in bewilderment, your body instinctively shivering as the breeze pricks at your skin.

You await a reaction, something that decides your fate, but all he does is sigh. "He's as bad as everyone says he is, isn't he?"

You note the pity laced beautifully between his words, edged with a harsh tone of protectiveness. Over you?

Suppressing your hope before it gets too much to handle, you tremble with a nod, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down to cover your clenched fists out of habit. It's now, when everything is silent between the two of you, that you realise how totally and utterly fucked you are if you go back to him.

The very second you walk through the door, you'll have a bullet lodged in the side of your head.

Your breathing quickens, hands shaking and stomach churning as Jungkook's gaze softens.

"Come with me." he mumbles warmly, reaching over to link his fingers with yours, your cheeks heating up at the way his hand fits perfectly into yours, tugging you behind him as he pulls you off into the safety of the night.

*

You fidget under the scruntinsing and skeptical gazes of seven men--well, six if you minus Jungkook for his gaze is filled with nothing but pride and amusement. Now that you think about it, getting here was a blur to you, your panicked mind only being able to recall being strapped in by Jungkook in the back of the van and then lead into the dining room of their small base.

Jungkook suddenly sighs, clearly fed up with the lack of input or communication from his members, shooting you a look of mild sympathy, grinning when you return it with one of understanding.

"She went against her father," he starts with a voice that screams authority, your body stiffening instinctively at the sound of it as he folds his arms across his chest, your mouth turning dry at the sight of his tattooed biceps. "That's why she's here."

"Her father?" the member who you recognise as Jimin chirps, his eyes flickering with curiosity as Jungkook drags his gaze over to you, it immediately softening as he nods in confirmation.

"My father is Kim Hwang-soo," you speak up, trying to seem confident despite the tremor in your voice, "leader of Mythos. He sent me out to eliminate your gang because of the threat you hold against his name but Jungkook caught me before I could do any damage."

They furrow their brows, some even clenching their fists together.

"I have never been like my father nor have I ever wanted to be but, with the threat of a brutal threat looming over my head, I've had to play along for ten years and train to be the next mafia boss all while obeying his every rule," you exhale sharply, pulling at your fingers. "Whatever you choose to do with me from here can't be any worse than what he'll do to me when he finds me so for that alone, I thank you."

Jimin slowly nods, looking more taken aback than he is convinced of your story.

"She's telling the truth," Namjoon murmurs, running a hand almost frustratedly through his soft locks of hair. Jungkook, having not taken his eyes off of you since he started speaking, can only hum in agreement.

"What do we do with her then?" Namjoon expresses urgently, glaring over at the young leader, immediately taking note of the way he doesn't even bother to look away from you, "Clearly, being the next in line for Mythos makes her a huge threat to us whether she's on our side or not. Her family will be after our heads even more than they are now once they find out that she's here."

"So, you're saying we kick her out?" Taehyung frowns as he leans forward, sparing you a glance of pity only to be greeted with a look of sheer fear painting your face a pale and sickly looking colour, his heart dropping to his stomach as he recognises the look.

"Even talking to her now is a risk, Taehyung," Namjoon argues in exasperation, helplessly looking over at the younger. "We don't know anything about her or what her motives are."

"No," Jungkook growls, abruptly standing and knocking the chair he was sitting on to the floor with a loud clatter, "I'm not going to let anyone in here leave her on the streets to die. She could've killed both Tae and I today but she didn't. She didn't do it because she knew that what she was doing was wrong, she knows how evil her father is and she knows what he is capable of yet she still chose to go against him."

"Kook, sit down," Namjoon sighs as Jin stands calmly to comfortingly latch onto Jungkook's arm. "I know that you're not going to let her go no matter what any one of us says but I don't know if we can trust her."

"I promise that you can trust me," you butt in desperately. "By bringing me here, I already owe you my life and, in return, I want to help you take down my father. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Jungkook stops struggling to get out of Jin's hold, the older having to resort to hugging his leader from behind to get him to calm down, and smiles proudly over at both you and Namjoon, shoulders drooping when the purple-haired male offers you a slow nod and a soft smile of his own.

"Well then," Namjoon beams as he goes to stand, the others following suit, "Welcome to Bangtan, Y/N."

One by one, they all congratulate you as they take their leave, passing you with warm smiles and touches of encouragement. You duck your head down in hopes of hiding your mad blush, thanking them shyly.

However, a small hand entangles itself through your fondly, your mouth falling open as you look up to meet Yoongi's feline eyes.

"Go against us and I won't hesitate to kill you myself," he chuckles humorlessly, humming in satisfaction when you nod nervously before heading off to continue his nap. You sigh in relief, unable to keep the smile off your face, when you realise that Jungkook hasn't left yet.

"Hey," you smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you watch him pull a chair closer to you and sit on it, resting his head on his forearms, "thanks for sticking up for me."

"No worries," he scoffs, waving your thanks off with a dismissive hand. "Besides, I had a feeling we were going to regret letting you go."

You fight back a blush and drop your gaze down to your feet, snickering to yourself at the pair of Iron-Man sock clad hovering above the ground in front of you.

"You know," he breathes determinedly, "we're not going to let him you."

"What?" you ask incredulously, looking up to mimic his position, smiling cheekily when he quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Your dad," he clicks his tongue. "We'll do everything in our power to make sure he never lays another hand on you."

Before you know it, your throwing your arms over his shoulders and doing your best to embrace him in a hug with the chair in the way, your body shaking at the thought of him doing all of this for you.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

"Of course, i'll always be here for you," he mumbles as his hold on you tightens, making you finally realise that this warmth that his touch brings you is what most call home.