Yoongi Mafia

Yoongi wasn't the kind of man who inspired tenderness at first sight. His mere presence filled the room with an intensity that forced others to lower their gaze. He was tall, with firm shoulders and a toned body, not out of vanity, but out of necessity. His life was made up of silent wars, secret agreements, and enemies who never slept.

He wore his hair long, always a little disheveled, as if he'd just come from a fight or a restless night. His expression was cold, almost indifferent, but his eyes—dark, sharp, like a wolf on the prowl—said much more than his mouth kept silent. He wore expensive suits with the ease of someone born to power, although the knot of his tie almost always hung loose, as if remembering that he'd never been one to follow rules at all.

No one fully understood why he had adopted that girl. It was a sudden decision, with no explanation. He just showed up with her one day, wrapped in a jacket too big for her thin frame. He never spoke of the young woman's past or the reason that led him to take her under his care. The only thing that was clear was that, although they spent little time together, there was a silent respect between them... and a sincere affection that manifested itself in small gestures.

He wasn't good with sweet words. He never had been. But he was always there when she needed him. One look from him was enough to make the world understand that no one should touch her. And when he thought she was asleep, he would stare at her with a mixture of guilt and tenderness. As if he felt he didn't deserve the affection she offered him without hesitation.

Because Yoongi was a man forged in violence... but with an intact corner of his soul that only she had been able to reach.

That day he came home from work and looked at you sitting on the couch, took off his jacket and sat next to you.