Summary: After a rival gang makes an attempt on your life, Your older brother, the infamous leader of Seoul’s largest gang; Kim Namjoon gets you a guard hybrid; Park Jimin, The reigning champion of Seoul’s underground hybrid fighting ring.
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Warnings/tags: Past abuse, Blood, Mafia!reader, Mafia!Namjoon, Older brother!Namjoon, DogHybrid!Jimin, fighting, slow burn, general angst, eventual hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, eventual smut.
A/N: Hey guys I know it’s been a while! sorry I’ve been a bit swamped with personal shit and work and school. This is based on an AU that I wrote posted Here - BUT DO NOT READ THAT UNLESS YOU WANT SOME SPOILERS, this is just going to be a more detailed version of that, however, there will be some differences in the ending.
“Joon I swear I’m fine.” You said as you watched your brother pace back and forth in his lavish study. There were ware lines on the carpet in the pattern of his track- and you wonder how many hours he’s spent total worrying and pacing in this room. Your thighs suck uncomfortably to the leather sofa- though not because you were sweaty. Your own blood stained your clothes and dripped steadily down your body onto the sofa and the red carpet. Your brother’s medic and second, Seokjin sat to your left- delicately suturing and bandaging your arm as gently as he could.
The flat screen TV buzzed softly against the wall, “Unknown shooter at Coex plaza- none known injured, the story at midnight,” a news castor said. No one injured- accept for you, but the media didn’t know that and never would. Namjoon had already had someone steal the surveillance tapes to hide your identity and You both knew that you were the assassin’s only target.
They hadn’t been successful- all you had to show was a graze from a single bullet- deep but to be honest it hurt less then it should have. Probably because you were a little hopped up on painkillers; you could barely feel Seokjin’s needle as he sutured your arm closed.
He sat next to you- his medical kit spread around you- his head down waiting for your brother- his boss’s wrath to be turned towards him. “It is not fine y/n and don’t you dare try to say it is.” Your brother dragged his hands through his silver hair. “Why didn’t you notice them following you sooner?” Namjoon directed at Jin quietly. His anger barely leashed.
It was Seokjin’s job to protect you whenever you left the gang compound, and today you had gone shopping in Seoul’s busiest mall: Coex plaza. The only thing stopping Namjoon from throttling Jin was the fact that Jin had practically been raised as your second brother. Jin’s father had been your fathers second, like Namjoon, he had inherited the position.
The shot had rung out just as you turned and by some luck, the bullet had hit your arm and not your chest. It wasn’t the first time someone had made an attempt on your life- and to be honest- the members of Namjoon’s inner circle had gotten much worse in recent past.
Taehyung was currently resting up in an actual hospital after the idiot decided to jump from a bridge in an effort to evade a rival gang- which had worked- but left him with a broken wrist and several broken ribs.
“It’s not his fault- you wouldn’t have been able to pick the shooter out of a crowd that large either.” You argued, coming to Jin’s rescue.
“You’re right- I wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.” You swallowed, meeting your brothers’ glare with a look equally as stalwart.
“Try that next time and you’ll see how well it works out,” you threatened as Seokjin started to wrap your arm with gauze. Even Seokjin flinched at your words.
“Y/n” Seokjin warned, but Namjoon held up a hand to silence him. You where the only one who could talk to Namjoon that way. You were each other’s only family left. Your parents long since killed because of your father’s business- a business which Namjoon had inherited as the oldest.
your brother was the leader of the largest mafia in Seoul- Bangtan. Bangtan had started as just a gang lead by your father and had grown under Namjoon’s intellect. Now it was something that had never been seen before in South Korea- with a territory that consumed half the city and ears all the way to Busan. But just because he was the kingpin didn’t mean he didn’t have enemies- quiet the opposite. Today’s attempt on your life was just one of many that had haunted you both in the last year.
One of the other gangs- the royal sevens, had been trying to take away your brother’s power since the first day he had taken the throne- them along with your rivals- the X’s. We’re giving you more than a few headaches.
A gang war was brewing; everyone knew it. The evidence was clear in the bags under Namjoon’s eyes. And you wondered how many days it had been since he had gotten a good nights sleep. And with Taehyung out of commission momentarily, and the members of his inner circle reduced to 4- Jin could be spared even less frequently to take you too and from your college classes and you couldn’t leave the compound unsupervised.
“What do you expect me to do y/n? Don’t you realize how much it hurts me too see you hurt because of me? You won’t stay where we can keep you safe and you won’t let me send you out of the city so what do you want me to do?”
“I’m not leaving, Namjoon.” your voice was thick with emotion, the words barely a whisper. Namjoon leveled you with a dangerous look, his eyes flashing, in anger and confliction.
Namjoon turned to Seokjin “leave.” He commanded. Seokjin was quick to exit the office- giving you a thankful look as he closed the door behind him.
Namjoon sat down next to you, ignoring your blood that stained his expensive slacks- someone would be in to clean his study later. It wasn’t the first time blood had been removed from the walls or the floor.
Namjoon probably had 5 other pairs of slacks exactly like those- but because you where his sister- his pride and joy- the sight unnerved him. He took your arm gently- letting you flex it this way and that and establishing whether or not there was any lasting damage- there wasn’t- you could tell it wasn’t deep.
“Well find a solution, I promise, I just want you to have a normal life.”
“I don’t want a normal life if you’re not in it,” you said softly. Your love for your brother was deep- after all, he had practically raised you after your parents died. “Is the solution a war?” You asked quietly , he signed.
“We won’t know that until one starts and ends.”
“I don’t want there to be a war,” you said even softer.
“I know- but it’s likely unavoidable.” You both knew that the only way to survive a war was to come out on top. The last one had happened when you where just a child- Namjoon was nearly a decade older than you-you barely 7 when your parents were killed- and Namjoon just a young man when he had come into power. You had both survived the gang war- but only barely, you still had the small scars on your palms from the night your parents died. You shivered at the memory.
“If you would only go to school in Busan- we could transfer you to another college- one just as good- and there you’d be safer- now wouldn’t be a terrible time for you to study abroad either- America is nearly as safe-”
“My English is terrible and you know it.” Namjoon grinned- fondly recalling the memory of him trying to teach you when you were in middle school- and how badly that had gone.
“I need you safe y/n. please- if we can’t find a solution just think about it.”
You swallowed, letting your head rest on your brother’s shoulder. “Alright.” You said letting sleep and the painkillers pull you down. He picked you up from the couch careful not to brush your arm and took you to your bedroom, tucking you into bed like he used to when you were a child.
But you weren’t a child anymore- and hadn’t been in a while. Soon he knew you would want something more then the claustrophobic life he had to offer you- a life that would land you in an early grave if he didn’t fix the world around you and make it safer.
Namjoon pressed a kiss to the top of your head. For you, he would do anything- even if it meant burning down the current world to forge a new one.
Jimin pressed his bleeding knuckles to the cold dirty concrete of his cell. He was torn between keeping his cuts clean and soothing his bruised hands and body- but at the moment the need for comfort was greater than his need to feel safe. If dirt got in his knuckles there was a chance they could get infected- and a chance that his punches would be slower.
His master wanted his only drive to be to keep his strong hybrid body alive- but after tonight he was simultaneously lit with pride and also couldn’t find it in him to care that he was endangering his wellbeing.
Jimin couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been fighting- or been training for fighting. Before he had come to live with his current master he had spent his adolescence learning to fight- and it seemed today- today had been the culmination of those efforts and the point of his entire life.
The kennels where he and his kind where kept smelled like blood, sweat, fear, and adrenaline. His usual kennel mate was missing- maybe he was being punished- maybe he had died in tonight’s fight ( it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened). Jimin had never learned his name. It wasn’t worth it- not when it was likely that his master would force Jimin to fight and maybe kill the hybrid later. None of the hybrids talked to each other because doing so was usually grounds for punishment.
Until today he had been just another one of the many hybrids apart of the underground fighting ring. His master was one of the more notable ones, out of his kennels came the best fighters- and every hybrid, master, and ringleader knew it. Every weekend his master would take his few best fighters to the fighting rings and every week Jimin would win- earning his master more money than seemed legal- of course, Jimin knew that none of it was. Then he would spend the next week recovering and training.
Only to go through it all again next week.
Jimin had never lost a fight against another hybrid or human (though he didn’t fight humans often- and only when his master told him too). And tonight he had finally beat the reigning champion-a wolf hybrid named Taeyang. Who had held the title for nearly 2 years.
But it hadn’t felt good to defeat him- to outsmart him, it never did.
Jimin was already the underdog in the fight- he was purebred German Shepard, and therefore was physically smaller than the lumbering Taeyang. But where he had lacked in strength he had made up for in speed and intelligence. Jimin had thought it through all week, knowing he’d have to run Yang ragged to stand a chance. Jimin had only stopped before killing him because his master had commanded he stop after the ringleader declared the fight won by Jimin.
Jimin was the only one left standing. And as much as he hated it- as much as he felt pity for Taeyang- who was knocked out but barely breathing- relief clung to his bones. He had survived another week. Survived another fight.
The hundred or so humans around the fighting ring shouted- some in dismay and others in joy. He wondered how much money had been bet on him tonight. Some of the people shouted at Jimin to kill his opponent and establish himself as the alpha.
Every person in the hall was shouting for him to finish the job except for 4 people; the ringleader, Jimin, Jimin’s master and one lone man, standing on scaffolding above them.
His glasses where the only thing that Jimin could see in any real detail- along with cold appraising golden brown eyes. As a hybrid- Jimin’s sense of smell, eyesight, and hearing where exceptionally good- and as a purebred Jimin’s senses were even better than that. This man’s scent was different- lighter somehow. With a lingering note of whiskey, gunpowder, and blood- a woman’s blood- and her scent that wrapped around his like a blanket.
Jimin was a killer- and had been made into one by the people who owned him. But still, the smell of the man made his blood go cold. Even as he walked away from the rancorous display; Jimin tracked him with his eyes, shivering at the feel of the man.
Then he had been brought back here to collapse onto the cold ground, Tired- the aftereffects of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Someone stepped in front of his cell door and opened it with a bang that would have made anyone else flinch. One of his master’s men gestured for him to come out- Jimin did so slowly and gently, careful to keep his head down. He refused to let himself limp- though Taeyang had caught him in his ribs. Any sign of weakness or disrespect could be enough to get a beating.
In his time training, Jimin had been beaten many times- for tripping- for not punching correctly- even once for asking for water. But years of it had made him perfectly obedient. He had been rewarded before too- with water and food, with new clothes and blankets or even showers. Which were cold things- but the only way he could clean wounds.
Jimin prized showers overall- and if the other hybrids had asked him- he would have told them that it was the secret to his success- making sure his body was clean. But most of the others of his kind were terrified of him. A fact that left a heavy feeling in his heart and a sour taste in his mouth.
His masters quarters where paneled with a dark wood. A large circular couch and a full bar with alcohol that stung Jimin’s nose- even so; the smell of the dark man hit him like a car. And Jimin flinched when he smelled it.
“Ah, there you are! My prized fighter” his master exclaimed from where he sat- a human woman on his arm and a drink in his hand. Jimin lifted his eyes tentatively towards the newcomer. The man was surprisingly Attractive, tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair that was shaved on the sides. His nondescript black clothes hung on him in the same way that his masters did- tailored in a way that let the viewer know they where expensive. His face was even- blank like a painting but he appraised Jimin with an almost sterile air, the same way someone would look at a knife.
“I see you’ve noticed monster,” his master said, grinning and gesturing with a finger towards the other man. Monster- an apt name. His master turned towards the monster. “Tell me again why I’ve let you convince me to sell you my most prized fighter before I’ve had a chance to breed him?”
At the notion of breeding Jimin recoiled, a cold shiver sent down his back. The thought of doing that with anyone was nearly unthinkable. But then there where the other words. Sell? His master was selling him.
“Because you owe me a favor Jay,” Monster said with a slight smile playing on his lips that Jimin didn’t believe was genuine for a second, “and because you love money more than you love your hybrids.” Jimin must have made a noise because all of them turned to him.
“Spit it out dog.” His master commanded harshly.
“Sell?” Jimin asked quietly. His master laughed.
“Your performance tonight attracted his attention- and now monster wants you for his own- so tonight you’ll go with him. He’s your new master.”
Jimin felt like the world had been pulled out from under him. Go with that man? Leave the kennels where he had practically grown up? Was this punishment? But he had done so well tonight- he had thought tonight would be the night everything changed for the better, but as Monster- as his new master smiled at him, showing his teeth, Jimin couldn’t help but think that things had changed for the worse.
The early morning light stunned Jimin as he stepped out of the kennels. He had only seen daylight a few times in his life, and this cold grayness made him shiver. A long black car was waiting for them- and the driver was waiting, door open, for his new master to get in.
Jimin hurried after him- careful to stay on the other side of his car. Jimin practically pressed his face into the window. The city, which was usually dark and punctuated by neon lights was soft and yellow-grey. A few sleepy people walking as the car drove at a leisurely pace.
Jimin’s tail wagged excitedly once against the leather, and startled, he grabbed it to make it stop, only to find his new master watching him. Jimin flinched, expecting to be hit for the annoying action, but His master only signed, Jimin hung his head preparing to be beaten. But when he spoke monsters voice was even- without anger.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve bought you,” he said sternly. “but before we get to that tell me; Did you like fighting?” Jimin looked up startled by the question, the monster didn’t shout at him to answer as he digested his words only waited patiently.
“Never,” Jimin answered. His hands- his knuckles still split and dirty, tightening on his knees. “Not once. It was only a way to survive.”
“then I’m sorry to have to ask you to do it again,” His master pulled out his wallet, and then a photograph, he held it out to Jimin.
It was a photograph, of a smiling girl a little younger than Jimin probably. With y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes that sparkled with happiness and joy like Jimin had never seen. All Jimin had was a photograph of you and he could already tell you where beautiful. Jimin turned to look at monster apprehensively.
“What do you want me to do to her.” his new master turned to the window, the rising sun turning his hair a light orange.