Interference (pt 17)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

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Officer!Jimin x Reader AU

Warning??: He just talks about his childhood it doesn’t talk explicitly, just implications of death and abuse really.

Instead of taking you back to the living room, he leads you into his room where he sits you down on his bed. The queen-sized mattress is familiar, dipping under both of your weights. It takes you back to the time Taehyung handcuffed you both. How you had to spend a night in Jimin’s room, a pillow wedged between you both.

You suddenly feel insecure, lowering your head when you realize your dimple is out on display for him. But your insecurity doesn’t match the amount of anxiety and fear that’s swelling up inside of Jimin as he glances at you warily.

He doesn’t know how to start, suddenly clearing his dry throat and scratching the back of his neck.

Eventually he starts. At the very beginning, when his father left him and his mother, the woman going insane in result. It had been gradual at first, her attacks more verbal than physical as she began to go out more, drinking and looking for a replacement. Then it became violent, fear grabbing at his younger self and forcing him into a cage of trauma and loneliness. He could vividly remember his thoughts and feelings, the pain and the torture. He was utterly lonely. He had to face this ordeal all on his own, wishing for a day that he’d be able to escape from the punishments that laid waste to his body. No one was there to help him survive, he did it on his own despite his desire to keep taking it until he could feel no more and finally part from a nightmarish life such as his.

Jimin paused every now and then, gauging your reaction, only to find you concentrated on solely him. Your expression was distressed, eyes glossy as he continues on about Chief Ahn, coaxing him to escape and providing him a switchblade. You immediately knew where this was going, Jimin trembling and out of breath, choked out how he continuously stabbed his mother, after she tried strangling him, even after she was no longer breathing. Everything had built up, the pain, the loneliness, the depression, and came flooding out of him in that moment he decided he needed to defend himself or else he was not going to be escaping any time soon.

At that time, Jimin might’ve been wary of any men who saw any kind of attraction in the monster that had been his mother. But no one has ever reached out to him before, and he would’ve taken anything to escape that hell house. If Chief Ahn hadn’t pushed him, maybe he’d be rotting away dead after so many beatings at this moment. That still didn’t change the fact however that he had gone ahead and murdered her.

He went on about meeting Min Yoongi, the boy who took him into his family and treated him like a little brother. Through him he had met Namjoon who had a great sense of justice and deduction, prompting them to join him in studying to be a detective. Taehyung had been the goofy and yet serious-when-needed kid when they went to a training academy, unsurprisingly becoming Jimin’s best friend despite their polar opposite personalities. Hoseok and Seokjin were met at the precinct.

Then the story took a turn and he spoke about Jungmi, how they met, how he totally fell head over heels for her. He was blinded, thinking that maybe not all females were terrible. He’d sincerely thought the guys were being hypocrites, that Taehyung was only jealous, that Yoongi was trying to get with Jungmi. Up until he found her in bed with another man.

Of course. Of course. They were not to be trusted, he told himself. Women were the epitome of evil. Liars. Succubi. He despises them.

Another side of him thought they were horrible beings. Scary creatures hidden under the skin of a human. That side feared them. They were not only scary, but they were weak. Easily killed. Easily broken. Easily giving into lunacy.

He hates, hates, hates them. Despises, detests, loathes.


Startled, his body jumps slightly at his name being called.

Hands reach out to him, for a second they’re drenched in scarlet and he’s retreating away in fear until he blinks to only find them clean. Glancing up, you’re there, knelt on the ground before him with a soft smile lighting up your expression.

You’re an angel, he thinks. Whereas another side of him believes that its all a facade, that you’re nothing like an angel, only a manipulative demon that’s ready to tear out his innards until he’s no more.

However, you gently swipe your fingers over the tears that had been rolling down his cheeks. Your fingertips are soft, careful and hesitant as you catch the crystals that fall from his stinging mocha eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice sounding much like a melodic lullaby, one that he vaguely remembers his mother singing to him when his father was still with them. A brief reminder that his mother had once been the most beautifullest woman to ever walk the earth until she became one of the most hideous and most terrifying creatures to set foot on it.

You carefully stand up and Jimin is quick to throw his arms around your waist and bury his face into your stomach. Your chest tightens at the sight, letting your hands dangle at your sides just like the last time he’s opted to holding you.

Surely what he’d done in the past would bother you, haunt you even, but not as much as they haunted and tortured the man - who was much like a scared child at the moment. However that was the past, Jimin is a good person, you believe. If he hadn’t done what he did, then he wouldn’t be here. It was a matter of be killed or kill and survive. He never meant to attack his mother, it was self-defense, and yet he still blames himself and lets it haunt him that he killed the woman who gave life to him.

Jimin falls asleep like that, waking up immediately when you try to pry away his arms, only to refuse to let go of you. He’s much like a little lamb, a cub, a pup even, urging you onto the bed and curling up into your back with his arms around your middle.

His calmed breaths lull you into a deep sleep, falling into a serene darkness that is later interrupted by the intervention of sunlight pouring in from the narrow crevices of the window blinds. You expect him to be curled up against you when you wake up, only to be surprised by your front row seat view of his marred backside.

The older is in the midst of getting ready for work, picking through his closet for a shirt, until you inevitably squeak in surprise.

He jumps, yanking off the nearest clothing to shield his torso as he turns to regard you with an embarrassed frown. The blood has rushed to his cheeks, and my goodness, how could someone look cute while simultaneously having the blessed body of a god? However, you stray away from the fact that he is absolutely gifted with toned and rippling muscles, and focus on the fleshy marks that decorate his skin.

“Sh-shit… how long have you been awake?” he asks, eyes flitting around the room and landing on everything except you. He’d woken up that morning nestled into your middle. Instinct almost had him shoving you off the bed, instead he quickly pulled away with a fiery blush crossing over his cheeks and his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

There had been that usual feeling of revolt and disgust. Underneath that was a foreign sensation that spread across his chest whenever he gazed too long at your slumbering form. A side of him wished to crawl back to your side and continue holding you against him. That side wanted to prolong the moment of sleeping beside you, so much that he could possibly have wanted to sleep the day away with you instead of going to work.

“Not long…” you whisper, shifting to sit at the edge of his bed. Should you ask? Or should you leave it as an untold mystery until he finds the will inside him to tell you?

As if he had heard your distressed thoughts, he tentatively made his way over to you, taking a seat beside you. “You must be thinking up a storm, huh?” he muses, glancing at you.

“Or perhaps you’re ogling at my body and thinking of nasty little thoughts, you pervert.”

The corners of his lips twitch at your expression twisting in shock as you lean away from him, dumbfounded by his accusation. There’s a miniscule of a smile that’s threatening to break out on his face, his throat rumbling with a chuckle that you catch.

“It’s nothing special,” you snort playfully, “I’m sure I’ve seen be–”

You pause, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. You can vaguely hear Jimin call out to you, his voice drowned out as though your head was being dunked underwater. Black races across your vision, your senses shutting down when one second everything fades to black and in a blink you’re in a room completely different from Jimin’s. It’s one that’s nostalgic, bringing forth a feeling of comfort.

“Like what you see (Y/n)?”

Glancing over, instead of Jimin, there’s that man again, whom you’ve previously assumed his name was Jungkook or Kookie. And much like how Jimin was, he’s standing there in all his glory, shirtless with only a fluffy white towel hanging low around his hips.

His moist, honey skin glistens under the intruding sunlight, bathing his body in some kind of godly light that accentuated the dips and indents of his muscular torso.

“Pfft.. are you kidding?” you laugh, although your cheeks are glowing a definite hue of scarlet and you definitely can’t keep your eyes off the gift that is his amazingly sculpted body, “I’ve seen better than whatever that is.”

“Oh?” he smirks, one brow raising suggestively but you’re not phased by it, more like it makes you smile at his antics, “Shall we check the lower half then?”

“Nooooooooooooo!” You exclaim furiously, even jumping to your feet to emphasize your rejection as soon as his fingers curl around the hem of the towel.

He grins, bunny-like front teeth peeking out from underneath his upper lip as he grins at you, “I was just kidding you little perv… or maybe you actually wanted to see me naked…”

He mock gasps, “(Y/n)! I thought we were best friends, I never knew you saw me like that!”

“I don’t, you little shit! Are you sure you’re not the one who has feelings for me?!” You pout, an utter lie through your teeth when you knew full well that as of recently you’ve come to terms that you were starting to develop feelings for your best friend. They were feelings way too intimate to be felt towards a friend.

He grins cryptically at you before he turns around to look through the closet for clothes.

“Maybe… maybe not.”

The scene ends with him taking out clothes, the conversation casual and small. You regain consciousness with a sharp inhale, eyes peeling open to see Jimin and Taehyung hovering over you with concern written all over their expressions. Taehyung has a cell phone cradled close to his ear, quickly speaking to whoever before hanging up with a relieved sigh.

You wonder, since Taehyung’s here, if he questioned Jimin about why you’re even in his bed in the first place.

“You gave us a little scare (Y/n),” he smiles softly, slipping his phone into his pocket, “I was just on the phone with a 119 operator.”

Jimin, who’s now wearing a shirt to cover his torso, heaves a heavy breath. “Did you remember something?” He must’ve remembered the first time you had gotten a memory with their help, how you knocked out. At that time he’d gotten a panic attack, the crime scene a reminder of his murderous deed.

Maybe you should tell them. You’ve been keeping your memories of that Jungkook person a secret from them, it was only fair since they were going through the trouble of giving you hospitality and helping you out that you tell them.

“Yeah… for a while my memories have only been about a person… and well…”

“Great!” Taehyung cut in, exclaiming with a bright grin, “Maybe we can find them, is it a he or a she, do you have a name and a face?”

The brunette overwhelms you with questions, but you can assume that he’s just excited that you’re one step further to regaining your memories. He’s grinning widely and his eyes are scrunched, gazing at you with a glimmer of eagerness.

“Jung… k-kook?… I think that’s what his name was…” you mutter, wondering how you were supposed to describe his looks. It’s not like they could so magically somehow find him, what if he was no longer living in South Korea, or what if he didn’t live in the area?

Jimin snorts from his spot, drawing both yours and Taehyung’s attention to him, “Well that’s helpful, maybe a last name to eliminate the hundreds of men named Jungkook.”

You shoot him an irritated glare, to which he meets firmly.

Jeon Jungkook.”

“Do you know what he looks like? Maybe you might recognize someone in the street,” Taehyung attempts at a smile, ignoring the frown on his partner’s face that seems to grow in size each passing second.

“Because there’s a very high chance that the guy will be in Seoul,” the elder sneers sarcastically, “Who knows he might be halfway across the planet, or even six feet under.”

“You never know Jiminie,” the brunette pouts, not phased by the bite in the former’s tone, “Come on, let’s get ready to go soon, yeah?”


Maybe Taehyung chose to ignore it, or he was plotting something, but you wondered if he was ever going to touch on the subject of why you were even in Jimin’s room to begin with. Upon entering the precinct, you found that it had been the latter after all when the first thing he exclaimed to the guys was: “Guess who I found in Jiminie’s bed this morning!!”

The orange-haired male immediately smacked him upside the back of his head while you looked down, hands reaching up to tug the bill of the hat to shield your face from the intrusive eyes.

Boisterous laughter arose around the room, along with some catcalls mostly from Namjoon, who is eventually chastised by Seokjin. Risking a glance up, you immediately notice the miniscule smirk on Yoongi’s face, raising a brow at you. Beside you, Jimin is pouting like a child, muttering how it was a misunderstanding and that they’re - in his words - perverted dumbasses.

“I think my predictions were right, you are a witch,” Yoongi jokes when you sit down in the lounge with him, accompanied by Jimin who is silently stirring his coffee. Puffs of steam rolled off its surface, rising and unfurling until it finally dissipated. From where you sit, you are pleased by the heavenly nutty aroma of grounded coffee beans.

“She knows, hyung.”

Those three words were enough to totally change something in Yoongi’s attitude. Like the flip of a switch, there’s a recognition that settles in the darkness of his irises, smirk falling into a taut line.

“Everything?” is his only response, gaze growing in intensity as he glances between you both.

Jimin nods firmly, and at that moment Taehyung peers into the room and calls out for the former who abandons his mug in favor of moving to check on his partner.

When the door is shut, Yoongi relaxes in his chair with a subtle smile, regarding you with a kind expression.

“So you did it,” he starts off slowly, “I knew you could.”

“Maybe I have,” you sigh fleetingly, sinking into your seat now that the intensity of the atmosphere has decreased, “I’m sure he’s still guarded heavily, but it was both a relief and scare to hear about what happened from him.”

Yoongi makes a noise of agreement, “That brat is stubborn, but you can’t really blame him for the way he acts the way he does.”

“You’re a brat too,” you frown, to which he raises a curious brow, “You told me you were just a colleague of his! But you’re like his adoptive brother!”

“That was for you to find out, and for Jiminie to say of his own free will,” he grins, a chuckle rumbling from throat, “This is his past, not mine.”

Yoongi has never grinned so widely in front of you before, and you’re greatly surprised by how his lips stretch back and even reveal the pink of his gums. His eyes are arched into half moons as he smirks at you.

“How about you huh, Taehyung let slip that you and Jiminie were sleeping together.”

Face heating up significantly, you frown at him, “I was only comforting him!”

The blonde laughs at your response, calling bull shit jokingly, and you can only sigh and crack a soft smile.

You’ve only progressed a rather large step, but Jimin’s wall is colossal. It’s tall in height and thick in width. The fact that he’s able to trust you with information so personal, it makes warmth spread across your chest.

You only hope that he doesn’t patch up the opening he’s decided to let you through, and continue to letting you break down his walls. You hope that you’re around long enough to achieve that benefit.