9.Tell Your Friends - Yoongi Mafia AU

One - Two - Three - Four - Five -  Six - Seven -  Eight  - Nine - Ten

“You say my  life’s a mess but I’m still looking  pretty in this dress”

“Can you walk a little faster?” Min Yoongi had hissed to you as he stopped just under the unlit neon sign that hung above the black out windows that acted as a door.  There was no doorman and you assumed this was because it was three in the afternoon, and Yoongi ushered you inside quickly.

The building itself was new, though whoever had built it had gone to lengths to make the outside look like a central European house from the nineteenth century and it was painted in a pristine white and there were, because you counted, no windows to be seen anywhere in the building. Or where you assumed they were, was hidden behind the five long thin billboards that were printed with silhouettes and purple and pink flowers that hung from the roof and descended down the four story building to the floor. 

Tucked into the middle of Gangnam, it looked like your average nightclub from the outside, a high end nightclub where you’d pay more than needed for a glass of whiskey and go there to rub shoulders with the rich while sipping the sweet alcohol to burn your throat and worries.

The walls were padded, that was what your eyes were drawn to first as Min Yoongi had descended the stairs with you close behind and through two double doors, disregarding the other ones that lead to the higher levels of the building.

It was in pristine condition, even for an entrance way and as you looked back the way you came, the side of each step had a white light embedded into it, running from left to right near the top of each step, not quite at the bend yet,  like a stairway to heaven, except heaven to you was anywhere else

It was December first and it had snowed for the first time in what felt like forever and as you exited your morning class, the only one of the day, he’d called you, just like he’d said he would three days previous.

He hadn’t bothered with a hello.

“Tuesday afternoon you have no classes, I’ve given you enough time to recover”

He hadn’t bothered to to check any of this with you either and it bugged you with how much he knew and how little he’d needed to consult with you to get it.

“Time to go to work kid” 

You were rigid and stiff as your mother softly touched your arm the morning she’d left. Someone you had known all your life, whom you saw everyday for eighteen years and a good few of the other ones. It felt wrong. But either way you’d felt a distinct repulsion against it. Like when your father had hugged you a week earlier, returning home so he could go back to work. And your mother, tears in her eyes asked for the fifth time that morning if you were sure.

 It had almost been a month. And though you weren’t nearly as healed as you liked, you were sure. 

 Your parents protests wouldn’t hinder your own judgement as Jung Hoseok became more and more friendly with you and that even was a stretch. More so than the piles of emails of course work from your teachers you hadn’t bothered opening yet. More so than the time you thought you saw Min Yoongi’s head duck into a black car as you exited your apartment. 

It was a headache and the more you put it off, the worse and more prominent it became. 

Your coat was a deep charcoal and his hair was back to the exact same colour and he’d held the door for you as you entered the room of spinning lights and purple glow. For the first time ever Min Yoongi was impatient.

Everything else was like a blur of dark purple and neon lighting and silver and light reflecting from everything. Tiny silver circular bulbs hung from the high ceiling, mismatched but purposefully so, some longer than others, some closer to the floor than the rest, like worms of shiny metal stretching to reach something. The island bar was a black marble and had tiny strips of off white running through it.

 The balcony that stretched all along the back of the room was covered in tiny shards of reflective silver ovals and diamonds, tinged purple, you guessed it was because of the colour scheme of every chair and booth, along with the giant neon sign that hung right above every liquor or wine imaginable.

The Butterfly

The whole room stretched back a good couple metres and doors were everywhere with equally bright or dull signs above the them leading to different rooms and areas and gentlemen’s quarters and you’d suppressed a scoff at the sophisticated name. 

Drowned in a sea of glass and purple blue light, it smelled like white wine and lavender and gave off the highest vibe of intimidation you’d ever gotten from an empty room.

“You want your usual boss?” he was tall and smiled and had dimples that were brighter than the glass he was polishing. He spoke to the other man in a familiar tone, like he’d asked it hundred times and would be doing so for another hundred.

“Save it Namjoon, I’m here on business” he voice was the same when he spoke to you in the car, though he’d calmly gotten out three blocks away from the building in the middle of traffic, expecting you to follow him accordingly.

He spoke to everyone the same way. Bordering a disinterest, it never got there and he always stayed at passive, never a reaction other than maybe a chaste scoff you took for his way of showing amusement or a quick narrowed eyed blink that was his way of telling you to stop, whatever it was you were doing.

Other than his natural bored, expressionless face, that was all the reaction you’d gotten out of Yoongi. You didn’t think you’d get much else.

“Ah” the man had placed the spotless glass down on the counter, the clink strange in the empty room, though a thousand more would be heard that night and it would be drowned in an ocean of multiplications of itself “Business”

You liked the way Kim Namjoon had first looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t, but not smugly, more casually than most would, he just knew and he looked at you like he knew you and that was okay.

That was very much okay with you at that moment because you didn’t know anything.

“Angel in?” was Yoongi’s enquiry with the bartender. Namjoon had glanced at you before answering the shorter man.

“You know it” he’d grinned

“Of course, when is she not?” was a one breath sigh of a reply. You weren’t sure who he was speaking to.

He’d placed one hand on the bar counter, silver rings, one on his thumb, another on his middle finger now tinged a light lilac as he splayed his thin fingers across a beer mat, hovering the palm just above the cold counter.

You had not removed yourself from your position two feet behind Min Yoongi at all times.

“She in the back?” he’d questioned.

“Where she always is” was Namjoon’s casual answer.

Kim Namjoon had ashy hair, cut short at the sides and left long at the top. It was half wet, almost frizzy and he ran his hand through it painfully slow and you didn’t want to look at the way his shirt clung to him but you did.

A nod to Namjoon and Yoongi had tuned to you, crushing all hope of staying in that part of the bar any longer. He’d beckoned you with his hand and walked past the bar with his back to you and Namjoon had winked and you’d let your eyes bore into the back of the shorter man’s skull.

He was in jeans that day and his coat was long and thick and made of a deep black that matched the imprints of lips along the corridor as you left the main part of the bar and passed locked doors with beautiful calligraphy painted on the white wood and dim lights that barely let you see where you were going.

Again, there was no windows because you had counted.

“Take off your coat”

Yoongi had spoken quite suddenly and it startled you more than slightly as he stopped just before a black metal spiral staircase.


“You’ll be here for a while and if you manage to slip past someone you’ll freeze to death outside.”

You wanted him to be joking.

You’d taken off the heavy garment and handed it over to him in a slow movement, not looking him directly in the eye.

You had never seen Yoongi make a joke before and you’d have liked to think he was incapable of such a feet.

Three sets of eyes had stared at the two of you and you’d pulled your sleeves low over your wrists, the three men smoking down the hall slightly out of your line of view but prominently in the back of your mind.

His dress shoes had made little noise on the ascent up the thin steps and your own shoes had caused a jingle to emit from the metal of the stairs and each time it was heard, you could see Yoongi’s shoulder tense and you’d tiptoed up the rest before he’d leaned against the banister at the top and gave a long sigh.

Min Yoongi did not want to be there and you knew it. It would be obvious by how many times he’d check his watch in the hour to com.

He hadn’t bothered knocking as he pushed open two white Venetian doors that flicked back like ones you’d find at a restaurant used for entrances and exits to a busy kitchen. You’d followed quickly.

It was the only window you’d ever see in the whole building, though you were never allowed to go far, but it was bright and mid afternoon static, cloud filled sun had seeped through, slightly dull and in need of the lighting which was on above it, the winter air bit into you like ice would.

The polar opposite of every other part of the bar you’d seen, it was all pink. A dressing room of sorts, the walls were barely visible as racks upon racks of pastel pinks and baby blues and cool jet blacks had taken up the innocent colour scheme. Trimmed white and painted pink, everything gave off the innocent child like wonder a six year old’s bedroom would. 

If that bedroom had been a lingerie shop.

There was one white vanity table and she’d sat with her back facing you both applying lipstick. It had dainty flowers and leaves carved into the varnished wood and took up a third of the farthest wall and she’d paid no heed to you as you watched her.

Her voice was honey and years of cigarettes combined and you were shocked it emitted from her small blood red lips, it was the only part of her face you could see, past her slim shoulders and bobbed black hair.

“You ever heard of knocking baby?”

Yoongi had approached her, your coat around his arm as he placed it down on a white leather chair near the window and spoke to the woman in a sarcastic tone of voice.

“You’re the picture of lovleyness like always”

She’d scoffed.

“But how bout you stop painting your wrinkled lips and do your job?”

She’d finally turned around then, black heels coming into view, tight black pencil skirt the same colour as her fluffy jumper, fur you’d assumed. She wore gold jewellery, not a silver chain in sight and her earrings were bigger than your eyes as you watched her turn around on the small padded white chair. Elegant long legs were crossed over one another and sheer stockings brought your eyes to her knee length attire and god, she was the best looking fifty something pimp you’d ever seen.

“You got an appointment baby?” frown lines were carved deep into her face as she smirked.

She’d flicked her eyes up to Yoongi for this sarcastic question.

“Do I really need one Angel?” he was smug but she didn’t let him remain that way

“Yes peach you do. I’m a very busy woman you know?” she’d glanced towards you and brown eyes warmer than freshly brewed coffee and sharper than the man’s next to her were a shock.

“And I’m a very busy man. Can we move this along?” was her impatient reply.

Her laugh was like having a song to play on repeat until you’d gotten sick of it and even though you doubted this would happen, it was strange but enticing, she gave off the most sophistication you’d seen a woman her age pull off.

And god, did she pull it off well.

“Aw, poor boss’s gotta a busy schedule. Come back to me when you have to take it in the ass five times a night.”

She’d stood up and you’d stiffened at her path towards you.

“Please Angel, you haven’t had a client in ten years” was Min Yoongi’s scoff across the room.

“And you haven’t had a client ever. I guess that’s lucky for us isn’t it sweetie?”

She’d ignored her superior and looked at you with a motherly affection you weren’t sure was fake or just natural instinct but either way she’d blocked your view of the man leaning against the vanity table.

“Name’s Angel, peach. What’s yours?”

You weren’t a client, but she spoke to you like one and it made your blood turn to electricity and your veins pump static.


Past perfectly drawn red lips, a Cheshire grin had licked itself across her mouth and her teeth were as white as the painted nails she’d taken both your hands in. She was golden brown, and it made her bright nails stand out against her skin more and the gold matched her so nicely it was sinful.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you (Y/N)” sultry eyes made you fidget and stiffen against her loose hold on your hands.

“Don’t take it personal, but I just call everyone something other than what they tell me” she’d winked, and it made you wonder how she was able to ignore Yoongi’s impatient stare.

“What are you gonna call me?” you’d asked.

She’d paused looking you over, up and  down, and repeated it until you were more than uncomfortable.

“Pretty. But I think I’ll settle for doll”

“Are you done introducing yourselves yet or will I leave so you can pay Angel for her services?”

She’d whipped around, though much shorter than him, though still in heels, he hadn’t batted an eye as she approached him. She’d bypassed his figure at the last minute, choosing to skim through the many fur coats next to the vanity table. A pastel rainbow of faux fur, her eyes caught yours from behind it.

“You always knew how to ruin something. Even as a kid” she’d spoken as she went back to gazing through the clothes she’d seen a billion times.

“It’s one of my many talents” was Yoongi’s shrug.

“Many? Oh well someones being generous” she’d bitten back playfully.

You’d never seen someone interact with him in such a way and it baffled you, no matter the twenty year age gap on her part, how he had not pulled out a gun and told her to stop speaking ill of him. He’d let his ego take a blow, but only by someone he liked.

“Speaking of generous, keep her modest will you. I’d rather not deal with anymore incidents like last Friday”

You didn’t need to ask and you didn’t want to know so you instead twiddled your fingers and wrapped them around each other and unwrapped them and by the time you’d looked up, Min Yoongi was passing you.

He hadn’t bothered with a goodbye and you stopped him without needing to speak his name

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

He’d gotten halfway down the stairs before turning back, your coat in his hand, obviously keeping it from you, keeping to his word as well and sent you a confused look. Head lolled back slightly, he’d gazed up with hooded eyes, tired eyes, there was no pity in yours.

“Yes. I’ll be downstairs”

You’d paused, knowing he was impatient, knowing his mind was half his gold Rolex watch and knowing he would probably walk back down the few steps remaining once you’d uttered you’re embarrassing words. You’d spoken in a whisper, not wanting to look at his expression before he stomped off to the bar with a scoff.

You’d tried to form words but your eyes were half closed already and your ribcage locked as you tried to breath in and focus on the cold steel rather than the cackling coming a few feet away, thick and rigid, a smoker’s laugh. A man’s laugh. The three from before probably.

His presence may have been daunting, but it was familiar and it was as much as a safety as scissors were a bunch of flowers, deceivingly connected in some way, they weren’t what you were looking for but you were alright with settling . You’d take his calculating eyes over uncharted territories.  

“What kid?” he’d stared up at you in a condescending nature and he’d leaned against the metal railing.

You hadn’t answered.

“You want me to stay?” he’d scoffed.

You’d heard the soft footsteps on the steps and his looming presence had stopped in front of the doorway you were blocking and you could sense he was looking at you. You’d stepped aside so he could brush past you.

“Christ you’re demanding aren’t you?” his coat swung against your legs as he re-entered the room.

Min Yoongi was ironic, or hypocritical, as he’d sat with his black turtleneck jumper and and rimmed glasses and explained in a snappy quick series of sentences that you were now very much obliged, or rather more seriously so, expected to give up every Friday and Saturday night of the next, he’d looked down at nothing as if reading from a paper that wasn’t there, however many weeks it would take, all Min Yoongi knew was that you’d be there well past Christmas.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t exactly have a timetable, he’d mentioned when you’d asked about when exactly you’d be expected to show up. You’d been laying low for over a month and he’d probably caught wind of you by now.

It was like putting a bulls-eye on your forehead and wrapping you in a pretty red bow so you wouldn’t stain when he came to off you.

At least when he found you, and Yoongi was blunt about this, if he managed to somehow, there was no somehow in his original statement but you added one for your own piece of mind, they’d be dealing with it in their territory. 

Meaning if you got your brains blown out, the cleaner wouldn’t mind all that much.

“Arms out, doll” she’d stood with the measuring tape wrapped around her hand and the pieces she’d chosen she’d placed in between her teeth. You’d obliged, choosing to face away from Min Yoongi so you couldn’t read his expression.

“So it’s tomorrow night?” Angel had caught your arm in a viper’s grip as she leaned down to your waist line from your shoulder. You’d asked hesitantly, going over the conversation he’d had in the car previously with you.

“Like I said in the car, tomorrow is just a test run” he sounded bored

“Test run how? Can I really fail at this?” you’d turned around as Angel instructed.

“Yes, you really can and I wouldn’t put it past you to be honest” he looked bored too.

You’d decided to ignore that moved onto questioning him once again.

“And I just sit at the bar?” you’d breathed out a sigh of relief as Angel finished measuring your legs.

“That’s the plan”

“And that’s all I do?” it seemed strange to you, the little yet detailed instructions varied. You were over loaded with things you didn’t want to know, or told little to nothing about the most vital parts of your job.

“Yes that and for all I care, you can come back from the brink of alcohol poisoning every night as long as you’re in here when I say”

“What, he bribing you with free drinks?” Angel had scoffed, seemingly done with your measurements now and was instead walking around the small isle of clothes.

“Yeah, and a little extra on the side” he’d glanced away from Angel for a moment to stare at you and you had stood in your socks watching him right back. Your pushed your jumper sleeves over the tips of your fingers and furrowed your eyebrows.

He’d said anything you wanted.

And you intended to hold him to that offer, so long as you held up yours.

“Hoseok said you went by Seungkan’s yesterday”

It wasn’t any sort of question, but just a bland statement he seemed all too cool about. His tone of voice didn’t expect an answer and you wondered if he’d just said it to stir some sort of rise in you but you’d simply taken the clothes Angel gave you and decided that Min Yoongi wasn’t getting an answer anyway.

Because you didn’t have one.

You’d exited your final class and your feet had slowly edged you towards the east side of the district and before you knew it you’d walked by his building and your feet were sore from the doubled path back home. It was mindless walking, as if the action would take you away from all of this, though you knew it was just your vacant limbs taking care of themselves while your mind buzzed with a million and one different thoughts. That was a thing that could get you killed and you’d exited the dressing room in the same mindless manner.

Angel had let her smile overtake her small face as you pushed back the velvet curtains and stepped out in the pristine white two piece and you turned to the mirror with anticipation. The high waisted skirt clung to your hips and stopped mid thigh to show off more of your leg than you wanted, you were grateful for the high necked top in that moment. The shoes were uncomfortable, high heels and complete with fur on the toe strap, it was awkward walking in the sheer tights she’d given you, tiny white dots dabbed along the material like shapeless snowflakes.

You hadn’t asked for an opinion, it was a high end club and you had to wear high end clothes so you did not arrive expecting to argue with Min Yoongi or anyone for that matter. You’d simply frowned, unimpressed by the soft fabric or the pretty detailing, you were playing dress up, you were, in retrospect, a doll.

He’d eventually gotten up, the silent room an easy way of making his presence know as he shuffled over to Angel and bypassed her for the rack of coats beside her. Slender fingers had trailed their way through the tops of hangers as he pushed a couple aside and gazed at more, his face hiding all sort of deliberation, like he was choosing ice cream toppings, he didn’t really care, he’d take what he got.

Min Yoongi had approached you then, dropping the pastel pink faux fur on one shoulder and looking at you in the mirror in a sort of condescending way, head tilted upward, eyes hooded and the same old brown you found too icy at most times just like his expressions. He was careful but careless and it made no sense.

“Well you’re no pretty woman but you’ll do” he’d nodded.

“Pretty Woman is about a prostitute” you’d countered.

“And what do you think you look like right now?” he’d slowly sauntered back to his place on the chair.

You’d tugged the coat tighter around your 

“I don’t know” you mumbled, half a whisper and more than half bitterly, you frown remained.

You knew what you looked like.

“Remember, this is all just for show” He was right.

You weren’t just dressed like some expensive hooker.

“It’s all just a game” He was right.

You weren’t sure how you felt wearing the branded clothing, it was an unsettling feeling.

“You just sit there and blend in” He’d already told you this.

You’d shifted as goosebumps ran up your legs.

“That’ll be enough for Jungkook” He’d already told you this.

You’d stared at your feet to avoid looking at yourself, who were you fooling?

“And once he gets word of your whereabouts”

You knew what you were dressed as.


He’d spoken for you long and enough and you doubted he’d ever actually stop.


One - Two - Three - Four - Five -  Six - Seven -  Eight  - Nine Ten




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**This chapter is dedicated to @optimisticwithcoffee who turned the unspeakable age of seventeen today, so godamn old now. Hope you had the best day ever, you really do deserve it. Thank you for always supporting my stories and being a lovely friend. This one’s for you kid!