You can't believe it.
Is this freaking Minions?
Everyone in the room goes totally still in the midst of disbelieving silence, staring with astonished eyes at the youngest member of their group.
Namjoon and Jin glance at each other.
"Jungkook, honey...you do know that there isn't a real CrimicalCon, right?"
Taehyung leans closer to you from his spot on a nearby chair, a hand held to his mouth as if to shield Jungkook from some damning secret.
But what comes out of his lips in an obnoxiously loud whisper is, "Don't be too surprised, Y/N. Jungkook got four points out of one hundred on his English test in high school. We don't expect much anymore."
"Hey!" Jungkook slaps at Taehyung, making him withdraw to the safety of his chair. "I'm not talking about a real convention! I'm talking about that fancy thing they do every year!"
Consistent blank looks across the faces of the other members doesn't encourage your belief in the man next to you.
You scoot away from Jungkook, trying not to be too obvious about it. You weren't kidding earlier.
Stupidity is really contagious.
"Don't you freaking-" Jungkook grabs your arm and drags you back to his side, baring his teeth at the other men. "Stop telling her irrelevant things. I'm not saying there's a CriminalCon. Don't they always have a big party thing where everyone can show off how much money they have or something?"
The words trigger something in your head.
Faint memories flash through your mind, gold and silver and a pretty dress that your father bought you when you were thirteen. There had been people crowded together in a giant gilded hotel ballroom, studded with diamonds and jewel-cold smiles.
A teenage boy dressed in a tuxedo had smiled at you, running a ringed hand along his gel-thickened hair.
Your father had never brought you again.
"Holy..." You trail off as the memory fades, streaks of wealth and self-importance drifting back into reality. "No, he's right. My dad brought me once when I was younger, I think."
Jungkook points at you, like your semi-memory is all the evidence he needs. "See? It's like a cease-fire, and all the families get together and show off all the sparkly stuff they got with their dirty money."
Jimin's face scrunches. "A ball where all the mob bosses in the country get together and drink the night away? They have that? People go to that?"
Jungkook shrugs. "Mine did."
"Mine too." Glancing between the serious face around you, you hesitantly bite your lip. "No offense, but if our parents are going, then it must be a fairly big deal. Right?"
Yoongi screws his lips up into a scowl, glancing off to the side, away from everyone. "It's real. And yeah, it is a big deal."
Opening your mouth, you start to ask how he would know, but stop abruptly when you remember.
Yoongi used to be a mob boss in his own right.
And if he got an invite to this big, secret society ball, he must've been just as big of a deal as yours and Jungkook's fathers.
Looking at the quiet black-haired man slumped into a chair in the corner of the room, his chocolate brown eyes narrowed against the shards of morning light drifting in, you find it easier than expected to see him there, back in Daegu.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Ink ✔️Fanfiction
"That's my tattoo, Y/N, on your body. You know exactly what that means." BTS Jungkook x Reader tattoo artist AU gang AU Thanks and credits to all of the original artists of the amazing edits and fan arts, as well as the creator of the cover @namjo...