Latibule III
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.
Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: posting this on Father’s day because Mr. Min Yoongi is a daddy 😝
Masterlist, Latibule II
“The renowned Chief of Police, Min Yoongi, who had been missing for a month is now officially assumed to be dead. The Police Department announced on Friday that the memorial would be held a month from now,” the reporter announced with solemn voice as the news shifted to several official photographs of him in his uniform. Damn, he did look good, he thought.
“The whole country mourns the loss of the heroic man who never shied away from danger. He is indeed the loss of our country as thousands of citizens offered flowers and lighted candles in front of the Department,” the view shifted from the reporter to the video footage of the mourning citizens. The front of the Department was indeed filled with mourners, and Yoongi almost smiled. He really almost did if not for Jimin crying dramatically in the middle of the mourners, wearing his formal police uniform as though he was really dead. He thought that Jimin really had a flair for the dramatics. He was laying it thick on the acting, he noted, wailing hard enough to trigger the tears of the other mourners. It would be hilarious, and he would admit he almost laughed if not for the tall man that was caught by the camera for a second. He was standing on the far side of the mourners, unmoving as his eyes were trained on the makeshift memorial in front of the Police Department. He had his hands in his pockets, his face hidden by a black cap. He looked almost nonchalant had it not been for the tension in his broad shoulders.
Min Yoongi only saw him for a second. But one second was enough. He could recognized that man anywhere. One side of his lips lifted, his eyes glinting with something akin to wickedness. With nonchalant movement, he leaned back on the sofa, his legs spread out. In the darkness of the night, only the light from the television illuminated the evilness in his face.
So, he thought, his hyung knew of his death. Interesting.
You were a morning person. Really, you were. You didn’t open your eyes and frowned, unlike your housemate-turned-fake-fiancée, also known as your nuisance. You didn’t get up and decide to terrorize everyone with your dark energy, unlike well…him. You didn’t wake up one day and decided to glare at everyone until you had your coffee…far from the man you had unwillingly adopted.
Wasn’t he too old to be adopted for heaven’s sake, you thought.
You loved mornings, truly you did. You loved opening your eyes and seeing the lights seeping through the sheer curtains. You loved waking up to the sound of birds chirping as they rested on your window sill, unlike Suga who was doing his very best to shoo the birds away from the living room’s window with a heavy frown on his face. You loved mornings and how they represented another day, how they represented hope.
In fact, you loved morning so much that you were up and showering before the sun even shone. You knew he was the opposite of a morning person. But really, you couldn’t categorized him because he was not an afternoon or even an evening person, evidenced by the varying bored, angry, and annoyed expressions on his face. See, you knew he wasn’t a normal person. You knew he wasn’t a morning person.
And that was exactly why you let your guard down.
You were quietly humming to yourself as you stood in front of the shower, letting the water cascade down your body. Your fingers were brushing away the bubbles from your shampoo when the door of your small bathroom opened.
Your peace suddenly gone.
Birds suddenly stopped singing.
Happiness suddenly vanished as you opened your eyes and saw him standing there with his hand on the door knob, his eyes slowly roaming your exposed body appreciatively. It was as though he didn’t want to miss even an inch with the ways his eyes dragged down your body. And then slowly, that stupid smirk returned in his face and it was only then that you woke up from your stupor. He watched you as you scampered to reach for your towel hanging outside the shower stall without even offering to help you. You were huffing under your breath, cursing him with words you did not know you could say.
Suga leaned against the door still leisurely, his hand still resting on the doorknob, an image of a man with so much time in his hand.
“Who knew you’re hiding something pleasant underneath the drab of clothes you’re so fond of wearing?” he drawled as you did your absolute best to hide your damp body with the towel, your eyes throwing daggers at me.
“Don’t you know how to fucking knock?” you hissed at the relaxed man still looking at you.
“Probably not,” he started, “Can’t say my mother was around enough to teach me good manners, though. But I will say that this has been my best decision yet.”
“And it will be your worst if you don’t stop fucking looking!”
He pouted mockingly, “But I’m your fiancé. It’s my right to-“
And then you pulled the shower head, pointed it at him, and blasted him with water. You almost smiled when you heard him cursing as he retreated outside the bathroom. “F-FUCK! Fucking stop! I’m leaving!”
It took more time than you originally wanted to prepare yourself for work and to face the world. You marched out of your room with speed you didn’t know you possessed.
“Going somewhere, angel?” Suga drawled, smiling at you before sipping from his cup of coffee. As if he didn’t do anything wrong the first instance that he woke up today.
“Yes! Away from you!” You shouted before you slammed the door. You could hear him laughing all the way as you left. As if you could escape him if he didn’t let you, he thought.
“You know, I feel like I love you more than you love me. Honestly. There is a power imbalance in this relationship. You finally called me after two weeks that is so hurtful-“
“Seokjin was there,” Yoongi cut him off before dragging a deep puff of his cigarette. “Asshole didn’t even cry.”
Jimin chuckled, his voice holding an amused tone, “He cornered me and asked me where you were. Why would he cry when he suspected you’re still alive, hyung. You know how perceptive Jin hyung is.”
“Not even a little? Damn,” Yoongi replied. Of course, he could fool anyone in this world but not him. After all, he did grow up with him. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him that you were truly gone.”
“He didn’t believe, did he? You’re a terrible actor, Park Jimin.”
He halfheartedly listened to Jimin as he dramatically told him how he went to acting school for a while because of an assignment, how he was top of his class, and how he was depressed at work because Yoongi wasn’t around to make his bleak days brighter.
All that noise and all he could think about was where the fuck you were. Yoongi raised his brow, his eyes shifting for the nth time on the road. It was already dark and you were not yet home. He didn’t know why he hated that, or why his attention was focused on the road instead of the information Jimin was now giving about the fucking traitor who would soon walked down with him to hell.
“-maimed him until he broke down and told me that their boss is also- are you ready for this, hyung? Are you ready for this?- a police officer, too. Looks like somebody’s idolizing you too much,” Jimin reported over the phone, his voice hinting an excitement at having to torture and extract information from the man. Yoongi straightened when he finally saw you walking on the dark road.
Ah, finally, he thought. You were home. He ended the call without saying goodbye to Jimin before he he put off his cigarette. He unconsciously smiled before walking to you. You looked tired, your eyes focused on your steps when you bumped on something that clearly wasn’t supposed to be there.
You were rubbing your forehead before looking up at the wall slash chest of the road hazard, also fondly called as Suga. He looked down at you with an amused gaze.
“You’re late, angel. Where have you been?”
You squinted at him. “Work. What about you? What are you doing out here, Suga? Were you waiting for me? Hmm?” You stepped closer to him as you bombed him with questions.
He stepped back, his cheeks warming up quickly before showing you his bottle. “N-no! I’m out to throw trash! Don’t be assuming-“
You glanced at the bottle with an unimpressed look on your face. “That’s an unopened bottle, sir.”
He blinked rapidly before unscrewing the cover of the water bottle and chugging the contents down as though to prove a point. You raised your eyebrows at him before shoving him the paper bag you were holding.
“What’s this?”
“A phone, asshole. It’s not brand new, but you do need a phone,” you stated casually, walking ahead of him to your house. You wouldn’t tell him that you were worried about him while you were out and working. Not even if a gun was pointed at you. Nope. He had enough ego to last twelve lifetimes. He didn’t need to know.
You missed the completely surprised look on his face. Or the fact that he was looking down at the old model of the phone in his hand with something akin to a confused awe. He knew you didn’t have a lot… and yet you chose to spend what little money you had to buy him this. Meanwhile, in his pocket was the cellphone he stole from your neighbor today.
He sighed. Guess he had to return it to your neighbor tonight.
You should be careful, he thought. He was starting to see you as something other than a means to an end.
Latibule IV
