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AHHHHHHHHH ROW IM SCREAMING THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME ON A TRIP OH MY LORDY YOU ARE BRILLIANT

and i’m crying juuuuuust a little bit 😭😭 please enjoy my favorite bits below i’m chisksjjw imma need a goooooood check in later 😂😂

"Figured I can't bring you all the way to Hong Kong without taking you to Hong Kong,"

HAHHA TOUNGE TECHNOLOGY

Yoongi's smile falls and the joy in his eyes deepens to sadness.

hknbfteshjkbg and THATS why i love him holy moly he’s so soft in this chapter iiiiiiii

This feels like home. 🥲

The sight of the wound on Yoongi's hand catches your eye—a streak of pink slashed from his thumb to his wrist—causing more emotion to build as you remember that horrible night when he was shot. 

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD RECALL LINE OH

Too bad Jimin is not around to do your makeup for you.

HEHEHE BUT MAYBE HE IS I SAW THAT MOODBOARD (ok this was a comment i made in real time and um 😶)

aw so many memories in this chapter the ice cream!!!!

he speaks and laughs with the concierge with a lightness you rarely see back home, and it gives you butterflies.  🥹🥹🥹

HAHAHA THE CANADA DISCOURSE

NO WAY KITTEN?!?!?!?! ROW STOP IT AHHHH BABIEEEEEE

OH MY LORD THE I LOVE YOU CONFESSIONS SIHSIDJWHDKSJSND

At the nickname, Yoongi 🥺 nibbles 🥺 on 🥺 his 🥺 lip 🥺

oh no oh no oh no (also a real time comment eeeeek i feel bad for past mg 🫣🫠 RIP)

Hyunjin and–and everything—I fucked up. What if…what if I lose you, too?" 😭😭😭

You also want to grab one of the expensive vases that litter this gaudy suite and bash his fucking face in. 

SAME BESTIE oh my GOD

Namjoon is out at some unknown location, Yoongi is using heroin, and you are trapped in Paris with nowhere to go—with no home to return to that feels like your own.

YHGSTHHBDHJHFDYUJJVCFY

JIMIN!!!!!!!

All hints of Yoongi and Namjoon have been taken away. 😭😭😭🥺🥺

i missed my jimin 🥺

"But what if I want to learn?" you ask in a small voice, winning you a louder chuckle. 

petulant babie i love her

Jimin smiles and pulls you into a hug, and you let out a large breath you had not realized you had been holding onto. Everything feels a little less uncertain and scary now that Jimin is around, and you are grateful for his friendship. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

row i’m screaming crying throwing up i love them and i don’t know what’s gonna happen next and i just want them to all be okay 😩 this was an INCREDIBLE chapter i enjoyed it so thoroughly ahhhhh wowowowoowow !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Collateral 🗡️ 16: Sometimes important decisions—ones that we know we have to make—still hurt like hell

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon 🗡️ word count: 9.2k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, minor character death, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ chapter warnings: smut (oral sex, use of "whore", multiple orgasms, "love making" lolol), heroin use (the scene is not too detailed, and it happens rather quickly, but it may be hard for some readers), panic attack & freaking out, recreational use of prescription pills.

🗡️ note: hard drug use and addiction can be tricky things to comprehend and navigate, especially from an outside perspective. the things mc thinks and feels are valid parts of the process but do not necessarily reflect how i feel about drug use and addiction. please proceed with caution if this is a topic that is difficult to read. this will be something that carries on through many chapters, and it will be a battle these characters have to figure out, so things may be messy. please trust in the process and take care of yourself! i love you!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on may 2023 | read on ao3

The feeling of your thighs being spread is what begins to pull you from sleep. There is an unfamiliar smell to the room—starchy and sweet—but the musk that hits you is one you are well acquainted with. Lips graze over your neck, up to your jaw, and you smile, feeling the final dredges of sleep wash away as Namjoon groans softly against your skin.

Two warm hands spread your legs further, and as you bend at the knees and arch your back in a stretch, you become aware of the comforter moving and a body settling at your feet. Lips and teeth nip at your inner thigh, tickling and sending a tingle of arousal through you, and you blink awake, looking up at the ceiling before lifting the dark blue blanket and finding Yoongi's messy dark hair covering his face, except for his wide smile, which greets you.

"What do you two think you're doing?" you ask, voice raspy from sleep. 

Namjoon's lips move down to your shoulder and trail back to your neck, causing you to gasp as he sucks on particularly sensitive spots. 

"Figured I can't bring you all the way to Hong Kong without taking you to Hong Kong," Yoongi drawls, dragging his teeth over your skin, dangerously close to where you want him most. All you wear is a thin pair of black panties, which Yoongi wastes no time pushing out of the way. 

Warm breath ghosts over you, and you watch as the mess of dark brown hair centers between your legs, eager to feel his mouth. With two fingers, Yoongi spreads your lips, then he licks a slow stripe up to your clit, swirling his tongue over the bud and sending a shiver through you that has your back bowing off the bed. 

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, still tired enough that your body feels suspended somewhere between the waking world and the clouds—a liminal space of sleepy bliss. 

Namjoon's lips and teeth continue to tease, then he adjusts, getting onto his knees as he hovers over you to kiss down the center of your chest and take one nipple into his mouth after the other. The ends of Namjoon's hair dance over your skin, and they tickle. That, paired with the languid, firm strokes of Yoongi's tongue against your cunt, cause goosebumps to break over your skin, making you sensitive to every little touch. 

You lift your hands over your head and drape your arms over the pillow, closing your eyes as you sigh into the pleasure, sinking down into the mattress as two sets of lips send you up into the heavens. There is a part of you that wants to insist Namjoon crawls a little closer and slowly, gently fucks your face, but you decide to bask a little in this attention, first. 

Yoongi's mouth is glorious, and he picks up the pace, lapping and sucking at your clit, making lewd, loud sounds. Your body trembles and flinches with every stroke of his tongue, and as your moans become louder and breathier, you hear him chuckle against you.

"Don't say it," you moan, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks while pleasure bursts and blooms throughout you. 

Namjoon continues lower, nibbling your hip bone and causing you to gasp and giggle, then he asks, "Say what?"

"That she cums too easily," Yoongi grumbles against you, just barely intelligible.

"So mean," you pout, feeling your high climb and climb as Namjoon lowers himself further, disappearing beneath the comforter before yanking it away entirely.

You shiver and attempt to curl into yourself for warmth, but Namjoon takes your leg and slings it over his shoulder while he settles beside Yoongi, nipping at your thigh. 

"What a beautiful cunt," Namjoon groans against you, filling you with the urge to laugh.

"Shut up," you complain, too tired and far too close to orgasm for him to be teasing you.

"I mean it," he continues, kissing down your leg until Yoongi's lips leave you, and Namjoon hovers close. "I could worship this pretty pussy all day."

"So then do it," you whine, desperate for one of them to continue eating you out, already feeling impatient with the lack of lips and tongue against you.

You hear them kiss before you open your eyes and find them hovering close to you while Namjoon licks over Yoongi's lips and chin like a man starved—licking traces of you off his face. The sight makes you feral, and you let out a whiny groan, feeling equal parts horny and petulant. 

With a needy whimper of, "Daddy, please," you use your foot to attempt to pull Namjoon toward you, hoping he will get the hint. 

Namjoon, however, is a demon sent straight from hell, and he fixes you with a dark, evil grin and asks, "My, aren't we a greedy little whore this morning?"

"Wh—" you begin to whine, but Yoongi presses a finger to his lips and shushes you.

Your mouth falls open but silent, and you fix Yoongi with a desperate, incredulous stare before pouting. It does not work.

"Only good girls get to cum," Yoongi says as he drops his finger from his mouth and leaves featherlight touches over your labia, sending impatient shivers through you. He lifts an eyebrow and adds, "You have to be a good girl."

"I am a good girl, sir," you whine softly, and Yoongi has the audacity to chuckle.

"Are you sure?" Namjoon teases, leaning closer to your cunt, stirring up a frenzy of emotions. 

"Yes, daddy. I'm positive. Please."

Namjoon sinks lower until only his eyes and forehead are visible, keeping his devious glare fixed on you. And Yoongi, the devil that he is, kisses your inner thigh, delicate and ticklish until you begin to squirm, then he sucks on the skin hard enough to make you yelp. Yoongi alternates sucking and nipping hard enough to hurt, and you fight the urge to flail around, groaning and gasping each time he lets up and continues again in a new spot. The pleasure-pain is dizzying, and you almost beg him to stop, but then Namjoon's tongue finds your clit and laps over you, causing your back to arch and each sound to die in your throat. 

Orgasm builds and crashes so fast you do not feel it coming, and you claw at the mattress as two sets of lips and tongues push you past the point of sanity. Namjoon licks broad stripes and circles over you, and Yoongi teases the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, all the while you gasp and moan and whimper, legs shaking uncontrollably as overwhelming pleasure pours over you in waves and waves.

Between sucks and licks, Yoongi teases, "So…fucking…easy," then his lips replace Namjoon's on your cunt, pulling the last of your orgasm from you while already building the next one, filling you with pleasure so intense you nearly beg them to stop. 

"Too bad we can't make a mess of this bed," Namjoon groans as fingertips tease your entrance, stroking over you as if petting a soft animal. "Don't want poor Taehyungie to accrue a bunch of cleaning fees."

Clarity washes over you, pulling you back to the present moment, and you remember that this unfamiliar starchy-sweet bedding and spackled white ceiling in Hong Kong are all attached to the suite that Taehyung and Jeongguk are staying in. Suddenly, you feel embarrassed that the two of them may be able to hear you, and your legs start to squeeze shut. 

Two long, thick fingers enter your wet heat, and you attempt to scramble back, digging your heels into the mattress as you mutter, "Wait," frantically. 

"What is it, darling?" Yoongi asks sweetly while holding you in place, not allowing you to escape the slow, intoxicating motions of Namjoon's hand. You consider calling your safe word, but the feeling so good, you cannot seem to bring yourself to.

"What if they hear us?" you ask weakly, reaching for the comforter in hopes of pulling it over your sweat-covered body despite Taehyung and Jeongguk being unable to see through walls. 

At this, Namjoon begins to finger hard and fast, and you freeze and tremble with your back bowed slightly from the bed, attempting to become distracted by the ensnaring bliss of his fingers while Yoongi gently nips at your skin. 

"Isn't that what you want, darling?" Yoongi teases, making you feel shy.

"No," you mewl, shaking your head frantically a few times while Namjoon rubs the sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. 

"We could bring Jeonggukie in here for you right now, if you want," Namjoon offers as his lips trail up your thigh.

"I bet he would love to see you sprawled out while two men make you cum," Yoongi adds as his mouth lowers, warm breath ghosting over your pussy. 

"He would probably pout," Namjoon adds with a chuckle, "and start begging his hyungs to let him have a taste."

Before you can allow the thought of Jeongguk pouting to ricochet too much, you reach yet another orgasm, mouth hung open and silent as Namjoon's fingers press roughly into you, threatening to make you squirt. Then Yoongi laps over your cunt in firm, broad strokes, and the dam breaks, causing you to scream—frantically grabbing for a pillow and holding it over your face—while both men mercilessly drag more and more squelching release from you.

You practically beg them to stop, pulling the pillow from your face and gasping for air, when there is a loud, steady knock on the door. 

Although neither man slows, much less stops, Namjoon yells, "Yes," before letting out a soft laugh. 

Warmth floods your cheeks, making you wish you could disappear completely, and you pull the pillow back over your face. 

"You're being just a little too loud, hyungs," Taehyung calls from the other side of the door, making you cringe. "Especially you, buttercup," he adds, and you completely snap. 

"No more," you beg, throwing the pillow aside and scrambling away from insistent hands and mouths.  "Sakura!" 

Yoongi and Namjoon laugh, making feeble attempts to grab at you while you huddle up by the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, breathless and a little too cold for comfort. 

With sweet, dopey smiles, the two turn to one another, and Namjoon lifts his fingers that glisten with your release up to Yoongi's mouth, saying, "Be a good boy and clean these for me."

"Yes, daddy," Yoongi responds as he leans close and lets his mouth fall open, holding adoring eye contact with Namjoon, who slides his fingers over Yoongi's tongue and instructs him to suck.

As enticing as these two are, you do not want to let them get carried away in another tangle of limbs, and you reach one leg out and begin to gently poke at Yoongi's shoulder with your toes. When he does not stop sucking on Namjoon's long, thick, god-forsaken fingers, you press a little harder, wiggling him until he begins to laugh and pull away from Namjoon. 

"Don't we have another flight today?" you ask sweetly when Yoongi gives you a playful yet incredulous glare. 

"We do," Yoongi responds with a grin as he turns to you and begins to crawl naked on his hands and knees. "But we can leave any time, darling. We're on nobody's schedule but our own."

Petulant and a little embarrassed, you move your foot to Yoongi's shoulder, against his clavicle, and press a little hard, desperate to keep him and his magic tongue the fuck away from you. 

"But I want to go," you whine, jutting out your bottom lip. "I've never been on a real vacation before and I want to see where you plan to take me."

As if snapped from some kind of trance, Yoongi's smile falls and the joy in his eyes deepens to sadness. You know that the cogs in his brain are turning, telling him that you grew up in a loveless situation, sold off by your parents at too young of an age to fully understand what was happening. Sure, you have traveled the world while in the various trafficking rings, but never have you had the chance to see it and enjoy it.

Yoongi continues to advance, but rather than attempt to sway you into anything sexual, he crawls on his knees and flops down at your side, wrapping his arms around you.

"I'll show you the world, darling," Yoongi mutters as he nuzzles his face into your side, causing butterflies to stir in your tummy. 

All you can do is wrap your arms loosely over his shoulders and return his hugs. Moments like these, when Yoongi is tender and sweet, you think you could withstand his nonsense every day. Sitting in the center of the bed, Namjoon's shoulders are slumped forward, eyes zoned out on some spot ahead, as far as you can tell. 

"You too, Joonbug," you say as you attempt to hold your arms out. 

Namjoon glances up and smiles softly, cheeks creasing ever so gently with dimples as he makes his way over on his knees. The added weight of his body draping over Yoongi's back pulls you downward uncomfortably, and you groan as you try to get into a more relaxed position beneath them.

This is good, you think. The two of them, just like this. This feels like home. 

Growing up, during the rare event that you were allowed to watch a movie or an episode of television, you frequently saw a protagonist gaze out the window of a moving car or an airplane with a look in their eye that suggested nothing in life could possibly be better than that moment, right there. 

You always thought moments like those were reserved for the screen, only. You always thought those moments would be too fantastical for you. 

So when you stare from the window of Yoongi’s private jet as it descends over France, your heart feels as if it might burst behind your ribs. Tears form in your eyes, and you attempt to blink them away, but the wave of happiness is so intense and so good that you end up bringing a hand to your cheek to attempt covertly wiping away the evidence of your flooding emotions. 

“Happy, darling?” Yoongi asks, rubbing the backs of two fingers along your cheek, narrowly avoiding a fallen tear. Of course, you can never get anything past Yoongi. 

You nod and turn to him, attempting to hold in the surge of joy, but as soon as you meet his dark brown eyes and soft, tender smile, the tears build quickly, and you sniffle on your inhale, feeling shy enough to chuckle. 

“Yoongi, you—“ you have no idea what this means to me, you think, words choked on a sob. You have no idea what you mean to me. “Thank you.”

“It was a long time coming,” Yoongi responds, looking away as his blushing cheeks betray his attempt at being humble. “You deserve to be given the world. And a proper vacation is just what we need, right now.”

You turn back to the right, gazing out the window as the scenery begins to level and grow and move much faster than it seemed to move while you were still in the air. Your tummy does a flip, and you turn back to Yoongi, too nervous to watch the moment the wheels touch down on the tarmac. 

Yoongi’s hair is tucked behind his ears and he wears a simple yet elegant outfit—a tan blazer over a beige silk shirt, tucked into tan slacks. The hints of blush on his cheeks appear much softer, and all of his sharp features seem more delicate in contrast with the lighter colors versus his standard black. You take in his pretty dark eyes and soft rose-petal lips, feeling the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell him you love him. And when you open your mouth to speak, the plane touches down, making you gasp and yelp, stealing the words from your lips until all you can do is laugh. 

To the left, past Yoongi on the other side of the small aisle, Namjoon snores loudly enough to startle himself awake, and he groans a confused sound as he sits up quickly, blinking heavily from sleep. You laugh even louder, burying your face into Yoongi’s side while Namjoon grumbles and stretches; he slept nearly the entire thirteen-hour flight. You dozed a little off and on, but you were so excited, you watched out the window as you traveled through the time zones, extending nighttime impossibly long, daydreaming above the clouds. 

Rather than dissipate, the affectionate feelings only swell, nearly suffocating you on the desire to voice them, but you swallow it down. Is this the right time and place? Here, on an airplane? While Namjoon is wiping his own drool from his chin and Yoongi is laughing—would be doubled over entirely if you were not holding onto him for dear life and wiping your own happy tears from your eyes? Sure, this feels like a time that encapsulates love, but to say it to the two of them for the first time? You would rather dwell on it and continue to spiral a little more, instead.  

As a male staff member clad in black opens the large metal door leading out of the plane and checks on something—you cannot tell what—you begin to feel a nervous excitement wash over you. Namjoon gets up first, head to toe in black cotton, stretching with groan after groan, yawning loudly, and Yoongi follows behind, gently pushing Namjoon by the butt to get him walking toward the exit while his shoulders continue to rise and fall with amusement. The sight of the wound on Yoongi's hand catches your eye—a streak of pink slashed from his thumb to his wrist—causing more emotion to build as you remember that horrible night when he was shot. 

Blinking back the myriad emotions, you undo your seatbelt and follow suit, stretching your stiff legs and getting onto your feet as you hobble toward the exit, where Yoongi waits for you to go first, then out of the airplane and into a cool Paris late-afternoon. 

The soft material of Yoongi's tan blazer drapes over your shoulders before you have a chance to shiver, and you grip onto it tightly with both hands and hug it closed, smiling to yourself as the affection in your chest only grows. You walk down the short set of aluminum steps, and before your feet can hit the ground, Namjoon reaches a hand and takes your right elbow, guiding you gently to your destination. 

"Are you hungry, darling?" Yoongi asks as an arm wraps around you from the left, and Yoongi's warmth and sweet musk further engulfs you.

You are hungry, and the moment the thought of food crosses your mind, your stomach whines in response. With a nod, you lean your head toward Yoongi and mutter, "I could eat."

"Mind if we stop at the hotel first?" Namjoon asks. "I want to change and brush my teeth before we go anywhere."

You laugh more thinking about Namjoon snore-startling himself awake and nod again, this time leaning toward Namjoon's warmth.

"I would like to change, too," you say, having worn a tee and joggers for the flight. Especially with Yoongi looking so put together, you want to at least slip into a nice evening gown. Too bad Jimin is not around to do your makeup for you.

"The hotel has fantastic room service, but I want to take you out onto the town," Yoongi begins as the three of you approach a sleek black sports car, and a man clad in all black hands Yoongi a set of keys. "How about I order us some appetizers so the two of you can take your time, and that will give me time to wiggle us into a nice, impossible-to-get reservation?"

"Sounds perfect," you respond with a smile, feeling a strong swell of affection as Yoongi's embrace slides away and Namjoon leads you around to the other side of the car. 

It feels like it has been ages since you have sat in the front seat of a vehicle, and you almost do not accept, suggesting Namjoon and his long legs take the seat, instead. But he insists, standing his ground firmly while gently shoving you toward the open door, only relenting when you huff out a sigh and duck into the car, plopping down on the warm leather and marveling at the fuschia-lit interior. 

"Porsche Panamera," Yoongi mutters as he drags his fingertips up and down the curves of the steering wheel with a grin. "Always wanted one of these, but it's too flashy for me to drive back home."

The last time you sat front seat was in Namjoon's Porsche, and you smile to yourself, remembering the fateful day when you demanded to be taken for ice cream, only for your relationship to evolve into something more. Yoongi starts the ignition, and you buckle your seatbelt before sinking back into the seat and glancing out the window, eager for what lies ahead. He drives from the airport without the use of a device to tell him where to go, and as he takes each turn and stop with practiced ease, you wonder just how many times he has been here before. 

Paris is just as it is in the movies; tan stone buildings adorned with wrought-iron balconies, and decorative lamp posts lining the streets. There is a beautiful blend of old and new, with buildings that appear to have rich histories attached to them. 

Yoongi pulls up to a tall stone building that wraps delicately around the street corner, showcasing intricate balconies lining each window, and beautiful stone arches on the ground level. As he shuts off the ignition, you do a double-take, glancing from Yoongi to the elegant building to your right. 

"We're here," he sing-songs as he opens the door and gets out, and you pause, only snapping from your reverie when your door opens and you find Namjoon smiling sweetly. Everything about this scene feels like a dream, and you half expect to wake up and find yourself still sitting on the airplane above the clouds. 

Yoongi tosses his keys to a valet driver, mutters something to him in French, then approaches the trunk of the car to retrieve your suitcases. At some point, a staff member must have placed them in there for you. You approach and reach for yours, but Yoongi shoves it toward Namjoon the moment its wheels are on concrete, and Namjoon expands the handle and holds firmly, making sure you do not dare try to take it from him.

With a mock-petulant huff, you cross your arms over your shoulders, hugging the tan blazer that remains draped over you. Yoongi retrieves two more large black suitcases, shuts the trunk, and Namjoon grabs a second one, leading the way into the lobby. 

Although you are becoming used to extravagance from being in the presence of one of the wealthiest men in Korea, the French hotel lobby still takes you by surprise. The walls are white with gold-trimmed accent molding, large crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, colorful crushed velvet armchairs line the walls, and large, elegant Parisian rugs cover intricate marble floors. In a way, the decor reminds you a little of home, with more lightness and splashes of color. 

Namjoon walks off to the side and stands out of the way while Yoongi approaches a gold desk, and you opt to follow Namjoon, leaving Yoongi to get things in order. Although you cannot hear him, he speaks and laughs with the concierge with a lightness you rarely see back home, and it gives you butterflies. 

"Does he speak French?" you ask, leaning to Namjoon but keeping your eyes on Yoongi, who holds steady, effortless conversation. 

"Oui, mademoiselle," Namjoon responds, causing you to gasp and turn his way. The pronunciation is surprisingly smooth, even for so few syllables, and you swoon. Namjoon chuckles and bends to look you level in the eye. "We contain multitudes, sweetheart."

"I guess so!" you respond with a giggle, suddenly curious about all the things you do not know about these men. How much more is there to discover?

An elevator with gold doors leads you to your suite on the top floor. Although the penthouse is smaller than some of the rooms you have grown accustomed to, its opulence is stunning. The decor matches that of the lobby but with cream-colored furnishings covered in delicate floral patterns. Cascading beige curtains hang over the large window which exhibits a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower past an intricate wrought-iron balcony. Bouquets of fresh flowers sit on white marble tables, and as you kick off your sneakers, the Parisian rug sinks lightly under your feet. 

"Yoongi," you mutter under your breath, dropping your hands to your sides as your feet shuffle on autopilot toward the window. No longer do you have motor control; everything feels too extravagant to be real. 

"Do you like it, darling?" Yoongi has the absolute audacity to ask. 

Rather than respond with words, when you open your mouth, all that croaks out is a mess of vowels that die in your throat. Tears cloud your vision, and you hug the tan blazer tighter around yourself, lifting your hands just enough to smell the familiar musk that comes from the garment, filling your senses with Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. You lift your gaze, finding the reflection of Namjoon in the window—sweet, smart Namjoon—and your heart feels so full. 

When you finally turn, Yoongi and Namjoon stand near the doorway, watching you with sweet smiles. Namjoon's arm is draped over Yoongi's shoulders, and Yoongi has his arms crossed loosely over his chest. 

"Thank you," you mutter, tears falling as soon as both Yoongi's and Namjoon's smiles widen. 

You feel at awe with how beautiful they both are; how perfect this feels. 

Although you would love nothing more than to stay in this hotel room with the two of them and show your appreciation for this grand gesture—preferably on your knees, or perhaps on your back—you are eager to sightsee. Namjoon takes all the suitcases into the bedroom while Yoongi retrieves a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice that had been left by hotel staff, and you approach Yoongi, wiping the tear streaks from your cheeks. 

"I don't know how you will ever top this," you tease, attempting to keep your cool despite sniffling. 

"Oh?" Yoongi asks with an amused smile, looking up from his task of carefully uncorking the bottle in his hands. 

"Should have started somewhere like New York or…I don't know…Canada, first."

This makes Yoongi chuckle, and you smile wider as his eyes scrunch into tight crescents. 

"Why on earth would I take you to Canada?" he asks, shaking his head. 

"I don't know!" you snap in your defense, "I was trying to think of less impressive places!"

Yoongi laughs harder, gripping tightly to the champagne, and you swat him on the arm; the joke was hardly that funny, you think. 

"Don't balk at Canada!" Namjoon calls from the bedroom, causing you and Yoongi to look at one another quizzically before laughing some more. 

"I mean it!" he continues, poking his head out from the room, "The aurora borealis there is supposed to be pretty incredible. I have always wanted to see one."

"We could go to Iceland for that too," Yoongi mutters, seeming to be seriously considering Namjoon's proposition. 

You would love to see the aurora borealis; in fact, you think you would go absolutely anywhere with these men. Even to Canada.

The dress Namjoon picks for you to wear to dinner makes you chuckle. It is so…cute…you almost feel like a cartoon princess sliding into it. Ordinarily, you are outfitted in dark shades—emeralds and blacks—and cascading skirts. So when you hold the sugar pink Alexander McQueen scoop neck mini dress with a polyfaille skirt showcasing an exaggerated, diagonal ruffle seam, you nibble on your lip and look to Namjoon to make sure he is serious. 

Yoongi picks a pair of shiny black platform ankle boots to go with the dress, and you opt to style your hair simply, applying minimal makeup to your eyes—just enough to make them pop—and forgo jewelry. As Namjoon zips your dress and smooths his palms over your back, you glance out the window at the Eiffel Tower, reminding yourself that you are in Paris, and you bite your lip as you smile, overcome with adoration. 

Namjoon gets dressed in a simple black raised-collar jacket with a white shirt beneath, tucked into black slacks. He styles his hair off his forehead, and he puts on burgundy leather boots, forgoing jewelry as well. 

Yoongi keeps the tan and beige outfit. His hair lies flat and long, tucked behind his ears, and he wears a gold rockstud choker low on his neck. He completes the look with beige boots and a dusting of eyeshadow that accentuates the shapes of his eyes beautifully. You can't help but stare. 

"Has anyone told you, you kind of look like a cat?" you ask as Yoongi straightens out the tan blazer that you reluctantly returned to him so you could get dressed. 

Yoongi's eyebrows raise, lips part, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Pink rises to his cheeks, and you wonder if perhaps you have hit on a sore spot. Namjoon bursting out with laughter that he had clearly been trying to hold in only confirms your suspicions. 

"Awe, really? You have been told you look like a cat?" you tease, approaching Yoongi and wrapping your arms around his waist. He pouts, looking to Namjoon over your shoulder, eyes downturned and begging to be saved, and you feel the urge to keep poking, simply because he is so precious. "I'm gonna start calling you kitten."

"You are not," Yoongi complains, but Namjoon chimes in, "Oh, I love that…our pretty kitten," adding fuel to the fire. 

With a sigh, Yoongi looks at you, brows knit and clearly trying to fight a smile. 

"Fine," he concedes. "But not in public."

Pleased, you stand on your toes and place a kiss on the apple of Yoongi's cheek, muttering, "That works for me, kitten."

"Alright," Yoongi grumbles, attempting feebly to pull from your hug, which you tighten with a giggle, "let's go get something to eat, yeah?"

"Yes, please," Namjoon sighs. All you had was champagne, finding yourselves too distracted with getting dressed to order any room service. 

"Sounds good to me, kitten," you respond, smacking one more kiss to Yoongi's cheek before letting him go, and god he looks so cute when he gets sulky.

Dinner is a blur of red wine, medium-rare meat, and perfectly seasoned vegetables—a three michelin star meal, according to Yoongi. You hardly process the dining hall that is somehow more lavish than everything else you have seen and stumble onto the street in an intoxicated haze. When Yoongi drives to the Eiffel Tower just as the sun begins to set, you pinch yourself on the arm to make sure you are, in fact, awake. 

And it is there, heart so full of emotions you feel ready to burst, nearly a thousand feet in the air, overlooking the city of love while the sun drops below the horizon, that you turn to Yoongi first, then Namjoon, with tears in your eyes, and mutter to one and then to the other, "I love you."

You hardly have a chance to get your boots off before Namjoon has you in his arms and is carrying you off to the bedroom with your skirt bunched at your hips and your face nuzzled into his neck. Yoongi is close behind, slipping from his boots by the door, setting the metal choker down in a gentle clatter against a marble table, and dropping his tan blazer to the floor in a light whoosh of fabric. 

These men are ravenous the second you are set down on the edge of the mattress, with Yoongi dropping to his knees between your spreading thighs while Namjoon kneels behind you, gently unzipping the dress that he rather eagerly pulls over your head and tosses aside. Sitting in only white satin panties, you lean back, anchored on your palms, hearing rather than seeing Namjoon getting undressed behind you. 

"Say it again," Yoongi instructs, eyes wide and burning into you, covering you in the heat of his stare. 

Suddenly, you feel shy and nibble on your bottle lip as the warmth crawls up your neck. You meant it when you said it, but it was so in the moment, you had not considered saying it again. 

"I—" you begin, then swallow a lump. 

Yoongi stands, gently takes your chin in both hands, and pulls you into a kiss, moaning into your mouth, which falls pliant for him to do as he pleases. 

"I love you, darling," he says against your lips, opening his eyes wide—the only thing you can see from this proximity. 

"I love you," you whisper, testing it out, liking how it sounds—how it feels, before repeating it with more conviction. "I love you, Yoongi."

You could swear he has tears in his eyes when he straightens out and begins to undress. Fingertips dance over your shoulder and neck, then lips touch your skin, tickling as hot breath ghosts over you, causing you to break into goosebumps. 

"And you, Namjoon," you mutter softly through a giggle, lifting your shoulder as a defense against his tickling. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Namjoon responds, soft and deep in a tone reserved just for you and Yoongi. 

For the first time, you experience what you imagine others refer to as making love. Though persistent and heated, neither Yoongi's nor Namjoon's movements are rushed. They take their time building your arousal past the breaking point, slowly and steadily pushing and pulling you over the edge, touching you like an instrument they know by heart, creating symphonies with your body and theirs. 

When you crash in a tangle of sweat, exhausted from the long trip and extravagant day, your heart feels full and your head feels clear. This is the feeling you feared the most—the knowledge that if anything took this away from you, you may surely wither and die. It has been fear that has kept you from feeling the full embrace of love, but you fall asleep with a smile, certain that, for once, you are ready to let go and allow yourself the freedom of being happy. 

When you wake up, Yoongi is hurriedly getting dressed in his tan and beige suit from the night before, muttering about meeting someone over a last-minute deal. 

"I didn't expect to do any work, but an old friend is in town," he explains while planting a kiss on your forehead. "You should sightsee while I'm away. There are great cafés; treat yourself to a shopping spree."

"Sounds good," you respond, looking forward to wandering the nearby streets and taking in the sights. 

"Namjoon is at the gym, but if you want to wait for him, he should be back in an hour or so."

An hour feels like too long to wait, and you are already slipping into a black satin mini slip dress and black flats. 

"I'll be good on my own," you insist once you are dressed, pulling Yoongi close to plant a kiss against his jaw. "Good luck with your deal, kitten."

At the nickname, Yoongi nibbles on his lip, then he kisses you on the forehead and takes his leave. The afternoon is young, and you grab a small black purse and head out the door with nothing but your cell phone, Yoongi's black credit card, and a smile on your face. 

Although the storefronts are enticing, you feel restless by the prospect of shopping alone, and decide it would be best to bring the guys back another time, should the urge strike you again. Truth be told, you have more than you could possibly want at the mansion as it is, with the two of them surprising you with luxurious garments dangling from hangers on a regular basis. There is nothing you truly feel that you need, so instead you take in the sights, window shop, and snap some photos to be uploaded online at a later time. 

Hours pass meandering the streets, and you return to the room holding a big bouquet of pink and white long-stemmed roses and a bag of danishes in one hand while balancing a cardboard drink holder containing three lattes in the other. A sweet old man was selling flowers from a small booth near the café you stopped at, and you could not resist bringing a bundle of them back to the hotel, despite already having your hands full. The small marble table beside the door to your suite comes in handy as you gently place the drink carrier down and dig into your purse for the room key.

With a smile, you quietly insert and turn the key, doing your best not to alert the men to your return, with the intention of surprising them with treats. You lied, saying you would be out a little later, hoping to surprise them with your arrival. Namjoon should have returned from the gym by now, and you expect Yoongi may be back as well, so your hope is that they are both together, and possibly in the middle of something sweet or steamy for you to walk in on. 

As the wooden door creaks open, a strange vinegary scent hits your nose. But, Paris is full of strange smells, so you do not overthink it as you drop the key into your purse and pick up the drinks. The suite is surprisingly quiet, which sets a feeling of disappointment in your tummy; you were really hoping to return to at least one of your men.

It is precarious, but you manage to slip from your shoes while keeping everything in your hands balanced. From the bedroom, you think you hear a soft sound, almost like a hiss, and you turn your attention toward the noise with a smile. 

"Namjoon?" you call, slowly walking through the large suite to the tall double doors of the bedroom. "Yoongi?"

You catch the sound of a deep, low groan, and you stop in your tracks. It was definitely a Yoongi noise, but what is he up to? And is he alone? You nibble on your bottom lip as you tip-toe closer, eager to hear more sweet sounds. When silence continues to fill the space you step a little more quickly, feeling your heart pound while you carry the many items you have forward. 

One of the large double doors is open about an inch, and you tap it gently with your toe, willing it to move just enough to peek your head inside before stepping in completely. It takes a moment for the scene to come fully into view, covering you head to toe in an icy chill that holds you trapped in place. 

Yoongi sits on the edge of the mattress with his head hung low, drooping forward. His right arm is outstretched with the sleeve of his beige silk shirt rolled up past his elbow. A pinkish mark wraps around his upper arm, as if something had been tightly tied around it and had only just been removed, and cradled in his left hand, which hangs limply over his knee, is a needle.

"Kit—Yoongi?" you try, voice coming out shaky and hoarse. 

There may as well be a barrier between the two of you because Yoongi does not stir. The urge to run to him and check his pulse or slap his face or scream at him is high, but you are unable to move. 

You hear it before you feel it. The flowers, bag of danishes, and tray of coffee slip from your fingers and hit the floor in a heavy crash of paper and liquid. The scalding feeling of spilt coffee burns your feet and you slowly take two steps backward until you are met with the closed of the two doors, and you wrap your hand around the edge of it, clinging onto the painted wood like a lifeline. 

Slowly, Yoongi turns his head, blinking heavily. He appears happy and then, all at once, terrified, dropping the needle from his hand and attempting to get up. But his limbs seem too heavy, and he just places his hands on the edge of the bed and sighs, slumped forward with a dazed, distant look in his eyes.

"Darling, it's not—" he begins to mutter, syllables jumbled and slurred and coming out in a pile that is hardly recognizable as words. 

"What did you do?" you ask, frozen in place against the door. 

Frantically, it occurs to you that you need Namjoon. Where is Namjoon?

"I just—" Yoongi hangs his head low and although you hear no sound, you watch his shoulders bounce as if he is either laughing or crying. "Hyunjin and–and everything—I fucked up. What if…what if I lose you, too?"

Hot tears stream down your face as a large, deep exhale pushes from your lungs, and suddenly, you are able to move. Slung over your torso is your small black purse, the presence of which you are made aware of as everything comes back into focus and you are able to make sense of what is happening. Although the ringing in your ears grows in pitch, you do your best to stay grounded and present. 

All at once in a frenzy, you yank the purse from below your arm until it rests over your tummy, and you begin to navigate its flaps and zippers with shaking hands, desperate to find your phone. You nearly drop it as you pull it out and, fucking up your passcode—9394—twice before the screen lights up with your many useless apps and widgets shining brightly, making your vision blur. Rather than make sense of your contact list, you open your messaging app, find Namjoon at the top of the list, and then call him from there. 

Yoongi lays back against the bed with his eyes wide, staring at the ceiling while his arms move out to both sides. You want to go to him, to hug him and kiss him and beg him for answers. You also want to grab one of the expensive vases that litter this gaudy suite and bash his fucking face in. 

"Sweetheart?" you hear Namjoon ask distantly, and you blink heavily as you remember that you had placed a phone call. "Are you already back in the room?"

The phone had only been partially lifted to your ear, and you pull it quickly the rest of the way. 

"N-Namjoon," you whimper, feeling the weight of the world crushing your chest as a sob follows the sound of his name. 

"What is it? Are you alright?"

You shake your head uselessly and sniffle. 

"Yoongi, he's—I—" You cannot bring yourself to say it; you cannot wrap your lips around the words. 

"Is Yoongi safe? Is he there with you?"

"He's…he's…using—Namjoon, help…" 

A heavy sob breaks through you, and you collapse, sliding down to the floor, sitting in warm coffee. Namjoon is out at some unknown location, Yoongi is using heroin, and you are trapped in Paris with nowhere to go—with no home to return to that feels like your own.

"Fuck," Namjoon responds, which sounds far away as your phone slips from your ear and your arm begins to fall to the cold marble floor. 

You think you hear Namjoon say he will be right here before the call ends and the screen goes black, but all you can do is stare ahead at the crème-colored satin sheets in which you confessed your love with all your body and heart the night before, and cry. 

You hardly perceive the conversation—if you can call it that—which takes place once Namjoon arrives. All you parse amidst the storm is frantically demanding to be taken back to Korea, thrashing your arms as Namjoon attempts to comfort you, and calling Yoongi a barrage of terrible things. You wished you had never met him; wished you had never told him you loved him. 

The look of hurt on his face plays over in your mind whenever you blink. It feels as if hours pass before Yoongi is cognizant, and the moment he attempts to console you, you freak out, screaming and shoving him away. 

How dare he turn to a drug that serious, especially during this trip? What was he thinking; how could he be so selfish?

You feel flabbergasted and foolish, knowing that it was he who Namjoon and Jeongguk were discussing out on the mezzanine the other day. How dare Namjoon keep his suspicions over something like this from you? You confessed your love for them; does that mean nothing to them?

Unable to relax, Namjoon offers you a xanax. And although you are furious with him for doling out drugs at a time like this, you pop it into your mouth with a gulp of flat, warm champagne and allow yourself to sink into the cream-colored couch. You threaten them, telling them that you had better be on a fucking airplane when you wake up; the sight of both of them makes you so sick that you hug a pillow with your back turned to the room and fall asleep sobbing, feeling crushed under the weight of heartache and disappointment. 

To your surprise, when you wake from a dreamless sleep, you are not on an airplane, and it is Jimin's smiling face that greets you. 

"Hmm?" you grumble as you release the pillow and turn, stretching your sore limbs, which have been bunched up on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

The suite is dark, with only two lamps lighting the space, and you glance around, noticing that all traces of your visit are gone, with the exception of a long peacoat, your purse, and your shoes. All hints of Yoongi and Namjoon have been taken away.

"I'm here to take you home," Jimin says softly, lips fallen into a frown. 

A sob shakes through your chest as you sit up and wrap your arms around Jimin's neck, pulling him into you until he loses his balance and leans, hugging his arms around you. Jimin shushes you as the fight to not cry becomes a losing battle, rubbing his palms up and down your back. 

"I promise you, we had no idea," he mutters, and although you have no reason to believe he may be lying, his words do not soothe you one bit. The idea of Yoongi keeping such a secret from not only you but Namjoon chills you to the bone. What else might he be hiding?

"I was so scared," you sputter through sobs, sniffling loudly against the palm of your hand. "I said horrible things."

"I know," Jimin responds sweetly, hugging you tighter. "I'm sure he understands. And I'm sure he deserves some of those things. Maybe not all, but…you have every right to be afraid and angry."

"I just don't understand," you sob, feeling hopeless. 

With a sigh, Jimin tightens the hug before releasing it. 

"Let's talk more on the plane?" he offers, and you nod, sniffling and rubbing the back of your hand over your nose. 

Jimin stands tall in a long black peacoat, and he walks to where a matching one hangs and grabs it. You approach and allow him to drape the garment over your shoulders, still wearing the coffee-stained black satin slip dress, and you grab onto the lapels to hug it tight while Jimin gathers your purse and checks the room to make sure nothing is being left behind. 

The walk down to the lobby is quiet, but Jimin's presence speaks volumes. He is patient and kind, standing tall beside you, offering warm, delicate touches when you struggle to hold your composure. A black sedan waits outside, and Jimin retrieves the key from the man behind a valet podium, then he unlocks the door and opens it for you, waiting for you to slide inside. 

The sky is dark; an entire day passed while you slept in a ball on that couch. 

Although you are grateful, you dread what happens next. Once you get onto an airplane and return to Seoul, you will be stuck sharing a bed with a stranger. After all these months you feel like you are back at square one, if not further than where you started. Do you know Yoongi at all? Is it possible that he has been honest with you about anything?

Jimin gets into the vehicle and drives to the airport. It is then that you finally begin to get your myriad thoughts in order and attempt to make a decision.

"I can't go home," you blurt, half expecting Jimin to argue.

"Alright," he says simply, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. 

"Alright?" you ask, watching to see if he is fucking with you.

Jimin shrugs and glances at you before turning his gaze back to the road.

"You don't have to go home. Do you want to stay here?"

A shiver runs along your spine, and you respond, "No," unsure whether you can ever return to Paris again. At least, for now, you need to create some distance. 

"Do you want to stay with me?" Jimin offers, and you drop your gaze to your hands, which fidget in your lap.

"I don't want to be a burden," you mutter, surprised when Jimin chuckles. 

"Please, dove, I own a mansion. And I practically live at work; you would hardly see me."

You nod, willing to accept his offer without any more arguing. After all, the homes they all own are rather large; if you wanted to, you could probably go days avoiding him. Not that you imagine you would. 

"Can I come to the club too?" you ask, suddenly curious about what it is like inside the brothels. As far as you have been able to glean, they are nightclubs—like Serendipity—or strip clubs—like Paradise. 

"Sure," Jimin offers easily, smiling softly while glancing briefly at you. "But I am not teaching you how to dance. Yoongi would kill me."

Although you had not previously considered learning, the thought of having anything denied makes you cross your arms over your chest and pout. 

"But what if I want to learn?" you ask in a small voice, winning you a louder chuckle. 

"We'll see," is all Jimin says as he pulls into a gated entrance, flashes an identification card, and begins to drive over to a private jet that looks identical to the one you flew over in. 

Jimin parks beside the aircraft and a team of men in black suits open the doors for the two of you and usher you up the small set of steel steps. Wind whips around, and you are relieved to return to warmth as you take the final step into the jet. 

The interior is nearly identical to Yoongi's—black, gold, and mahogany—only the lights are all light blue, with red light shining from the small bedroom all the way to the back. 

"How did you get here so fast?" you ask as you make your way to the small leather couch and plop down. 

Jimin bows to the staff who close the airplane door, then he turns to you and shrugs. "I was in the area."

At this, you scoff, unsure what that might even mean. 

"In the area?" you parrot in a mocking tone, sniffling embarrassingly loudly.

"After everything that has been going on, I needed a break," Jimin explains as he approaches and sits beside you. Without warning, he pulls his legs up onto the small couch and slides onto his side, resting his head in your lap. The movement is so vulnerable and sweet, and you do not second guess it, wrapping an arm over his arm and chest and allowing yourself to comfort the both of you. "I own that suite you were staying in, and a penthouse not too far from there, and happened to be around, so Namjoon called and asked if I would take care of you while he gets Yoongi home. He was actually with me when you called, but I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate for me to join him, so I waited."

You grunt in response, displeased to hear their names and picture their beautiful, stupid faces. 

"Namjoon will assist him in getting the help he needs," Jimin offers quietly, and you huff out a sigh and rest your head back, staring at the shiny off-white ceiling. 

"What if he doesn't?" you ask weakly, feeling the heavy emptiness return to your chest. "I told them that I love them, Jimin. And this is what he does. I don't know what to do; how can I love someone who does something like that?"

Jimin sighs and nuzzles into your thigh, attempting to hug you at the angle he lays, and then he sits up, pulls his legs under him, and turns until he is facing you. As soon as he opens his mouth, the pilot announces that the plane is ready for takeoff, causing him to chuckle softly and shake his head. Then he takes your hands in his and you turn your body as well, facing him with your ankles tucked beneath you. 

"Heroin is a terrible drug," Jimin states with sadness in his eyes. "Yoongi…he got into it at a young age, using pills first. And when Ryujin left…things got really bad for a while. We all thought we might lose him."

"I thought he wanted her to leave," you mutter, more of a statement than a question.

Jimin squeezes your hands and drops his gaze down as he says, "Sometimes important decisions—ones that we know we have to make—still hurt like hell."

You think back to Felix telling you about Jimin and his ex, and the choice he made to take the man's life. You wonder what other decisions he has had to make that must have hurt like hell. You wonder what decisions you will be faced with. 

Suddenly, you remember Seokjin's proposition, and you wonder how difficult it might be to disappear completely. Maybe you do not take up his offer to help them spy on Ryujin. Maybe…maybe you leave Korea entirely, at least for a little while. 

"I have more questions, but…" you nibble on your cheek, feeling nausea rise as the plane lightly jolts and begins to ascend into the sky. "I don't think I want to talk about this more right now. Can we watch a movie, instead?"

Jimin smiles and pulls you into a hug, and you let out a large breath you had not realized you had been holding onto. Everything feels a little less uncertain and scary now that Jimin is around, and you are grateful for his friendship. 

"We'll talk when you're ready," Jimin says, hugging you tighter, and you close your eyes and feel more tears well up.

"Thank you, Jimin," you mutter, feeling sadness and hope quake behind your ribs. "Thank you for everything."

Take onе in the temple, my tonguе is a vessel I try to be careful with the thing inside my chest You shoot for the memory so you can forget me I'll leave if you let me, ooh

But I won't die for love But ever since I met you You could have my heart And I would break it for you

🎵 visit the playlist

in case baby armys don't catch the reference: when Yoongi says, "Figured I can't bring you all the way to Hong Kong without taking you to Hong Kong," is a reference to Cypher Pt. 3 where he refers to giving an orgasm as to taking someone to Hong Kong.

😬😬😬 how are we doing, friends? i know i have said this so many times, but please trust the process. things might seem really bleak sometimes, but stick with me!!! as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators! and likes are also appreciated.

tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog @annacroft23114 @angel-121 @artgukk @btsiguess-kpop @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful @codeinebelle @curryshesus @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @fringe-frank @illnevertrustmyselfagain @jalexad @juju-227592 @kissme-ornot @leanimal90 @likeshatteredrainbowglass @m1sss1mp​ @mayeolorie @mgthecat @mushroom-main @mwitsmejk @openup-yourmind @pamzn @sleepilysworld @stocking221 @spookyminyunki​ @thelilbutifulthings @valhallawhispers 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK THIS 😮‍💨 THIS ONE 😮‍💨😮‍💨 THIS ONE HIT ME IN THE FEELS 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

harrow this chapter was WOW and honestly felt like a fun little what if/snapshot mc had somehow stayed in the sex work/dance world, what would mc find joy in doing, what would mc focus her time on, what would mc truly be like

and I love the little nods to mmm perhaps this isn't the life that she would've wanted or chosen (like the moment where mc is angsty she's having trouble adjusting to the sleep schedule) perfectly contrasted with her fitting it to a T and integrating with the bachelorette parties and making all sorts of "single use friends."

the jk, hwasa, and jimin interactions and banter were FLAWLESS. the absolute tension between literally all of them with mc (maybe not jimin) was stunning and felt so smooth and very much a hell yeah

(the gay panic was so cute I love mc)

AND THEN the jk walking in on mc DANCING!?? PLUS HER TALKING THROUGH WHY SHE'S UPSET (sexy) PLUS PLUS PLUS LATER IN THE OFFICE 🤯

I adored jk and mc jumping into action to go take care of hwasa (10/10 friendship and platonic love win I love them)

omg don't even get me started on the dance cages eeeeeeeee

okokokokokokokok before I get any further in generic terms I need to share all of the lines that made me scream so here they are:

Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid

HARROW THE TITLE ALONE OH BOY

the moodboard is a MOOD (lol thank you captain obvious)

THE NICKNAMES

dove 🥹

hehehehe “the last thing you need while on sabbatical from both of the men who you continue to be in some unnamed but deeply romantic relationship with, is Jeon Jeongguk making you feel giddy.”

THIS LINE “You understand why men wage wars over love and lust”

"getting his attention by draping herself over him and slamming her hip against his side." HAHAH i can see this so vividly

chaiskxjs jimin in eyeshadow

heheheh a pet name bingo card i like: buttercup, doll, doll face, dove, fawn?

he’s getting help!!!!

she reaches out one hand and gently rubs her fingertips over your wrist, snaking them into the sleeve of your black denim jacket and sending a tingling warmth into your bloodstream.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii I'm ok I promise I'm so very fine uhhhhhhhhh

fills you with a heavy-weightless warmth, buzzing in a deep thrum that tenses and relaxes and relaxes and relaxes. 

oh oh oh oh oh the relaxes and relaxes and relaxes part is mmmm

the hwasa tension is EVERYTHING holy moly

"But a kiss between friends can easily spiral into something more, can it not?"HMMMMM CAN IT

WHORE MIX HAHAH

heheh jimin yelling at jk is so funny

OMG JK BESTIE WHAT

"I didn't consider how even playful actions might bring up bad memories for you, and I get what that's like." <pikachu face> is this,,,,, character development?????

"But then he sends a simple little sentence that stirs both immense joy and deep, profound sadness—  Namjoon: I miss you too, sweetheart. —and you stare down at it until your vision blurs with tears."

HARROW 😭😭😭

OH MY GOSH THE NAMJOON TEXTS

IM CRYING

MY VISION IS BLURRING WITH TEARS

THIS WHOLE PART IS AHHHHH

"How is it that something so tiny could make his absence feel so much heavier?" 😭😭😭

sweetheart is another pet name lol bingo board ✅ 

"and you nod to nobody as you drop your phone down and clench it to your heart.  He says, "Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid," and your heart goes wild behind your ribs, bursting with affection." 

IFHAIIANSHAKA

HARROW IM CRYING

CJJAKSMNA "and he trembles above you, gripping the blanket tightly in his fists on either side of your head." 

LMAO "Probably, the average person would ask if you were alright and attempt to help you find refuge. Probably, they would be in their right mind to do so." row this feels like an @ for your readers hmmmmmmmmmmm

THE DANCE CAGES

they’re so sweet :)) 

THIS is an incredible chapter so much happened aijfnldjnvanlfoae row wowoowowowowoowoowow you have an incredible skill and have made me fall in love with all of your characters to no end. I'm shook in all the best ways, I'm emotional in more, and I am going to need to read this all again ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Collateral 🗡️ 17 - Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader 🗡️ word count: 15.6k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, minor character death, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ chapter warnings: excessive drinking to numb/forget; so much fucking tension lolol; Hwasa (yes, that is the warning); new nickname for the bingo card (doll/dollface); Jeongguk is a flirty little shit & he got his eyebrow and lip pierced; mc learns to dance; use of "whore" (not derogatory but also kind of derogatory); smoking weed; mc confessing to "going all ways" (sorry straight readers, but i don't know how to not write a queer mc); mc has some complicated feelings and is doing her best; Jeongguk sometimes says the wrong thing but he is also doing his best; a healthy amount of crying; mention of dead moms; discussion of drug use & addiction; inexplicit discussion of sex (sorry lads, the smut is in the second half. it's worth the wait!!!)

🗡️ note: this chapter spans about three weeks, and there is no clear definition of time in between some scenes because mc is just kind of...dealing with the passage of time in her own way. so if it seems kind of disjointed, that is because it is meant to. also, as you may have seen, this chapter wound up being 30k words, so i have broken it in two parts and beefed up some of the scenes. i intend to post chapter 18 very, very soon. ok i love you, enjoy!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3

You love Yoongi; there is no question about it. 

Despite the hurt and confusion and pain, one thing that you are certain about, above all else, is that you love him. 

And that is why you drink. 

You drink to numb the myriad feelings. You drink to pass the time. You drink to forget. With a twinkling haze of intoxication, loud club beats, and bright lights, you drink, and drink, and drink. 

Jimin caves instantly on his insistence to not teach you how to dance, and you realize that he is not only a brilliant dancer, but that he seems to really enjoy having someone around to join him. Behind Paradise is a ballet studio that he owns and rents out to instructors. When he has free time, he goes there to practice in front of the wall of mirrors while some sultry melody plays on an old-fashioned boombox in the corner. 

Sometimes he throws on a hip-hop beat and does experimental moves with his body, contorting his limbs in square, jarring movements. Other times he drifts gracefully through the space to ballet pieces, muttering about Tchaikovski, Prokofiev, and other names of long-dead men that you struggle to pronounce. He is always magnificent—a true artist of his craft. 

It takes no time at all to become a friendly face at Paradise. Within just a few nights, the cocktail waitresses, dancers, bartenders, and regulars all seem happy to greet you. Jimin has introduced you to everyone as dove, a nickname you quickly warm up to, which is what everyone there calls you. 

Everyone, that is, except the new bar manager, Jeon Jeongguk. 

At Paradise, under the flashy red, purple, and fuchsia lights, he calls you dollface, or doll for short. And at first, you fucking hate it; the words stick like bile to your tongue, heavy and tacky. 

But the more he struts over with his black satin shirt unbuttoned just a little too low, hair slicked back, standing too close with his sticky-sweet whiskey breath and muttering shit like, "Looking gorgeous tonight, doll," you begin to warm up to it a little. 

"What happened to buttercup?" you teased the first time he tried the new nickname, and he rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of pink bubblegum wide-mouthed like an adorable a fucking cow as he said, "That was the old me, dollface; I'm not the same person I was yesterday."

It should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is really beginning to grow on you. Now that he works the bar and you see him a lot more often, his attitude is much softer. He still teases you, and at times, it makes your fucking blood boil, but there is a softness to his gaze, especially when his smile stretches wide, that makes your tummy do a backflip whenever his presence lingers. 

All of this is extra dangerous in your current situation because the last thing you need while on sabbatical from both of the men who you continue to be in some unnamed but deeply romantic relationship with, is Jeon Jeongguk making you feel giddy. Try as you might to convince yourself that your feelings are purely a product of your loneliness, you know that is untrue; your feelings for Jeongguk had already begun to sprout, and, as time goes on, they continue to grow. 

You are also finding yourself charmed by Jeongguk's second-in-command, a wisp of a woman with a wide smile and even wider hips named Ahn Hyejin—stage name Hwasa. Hyejin is tiny, barely standing taller than Jeongguk's shoulder with her sharp stiletto heels on. But she commands a room, voice booming and deep when she needs it to be, making all the dancers do exactly as she says. 

Although you are surrounded by beauty in a place like Paradise, nobody steals your attention like Hyejin. Her beautiful diamond-shaped face is always made up with sharp black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. With wide, dark brown eyes that pierce into your soul, all it takes is one pointed smirk, and you are practically melting to her feet. She is always dressed a little revealing, showing enough skin that your eyes continuously trail back to her, just to get another glance.

You understand why men wage wars over love and lust. Hyejin is living proof of why so many sonnets and classic literature pieces are steeped in maniacal desperation over a woman some lonely man saw at a passing glance one time. 

Hyejin was once a dancer, too, but she worked her way into a management position, and all the family men who come to the bar treat her like a sister, including Jeongguk, who only reluctantly calls her Hyejin-noona because she is two years older than him and likes to insist on the nickname. 

She teases Jimin at times, too, being several months older than he is, and she uses it to her advantage when she wants him to do something for her. Jimin always grumbles, rolling his eyes while fulfilling her requests to make the stages and dress rooms better for the dancers, but he does everything out of love for her, and for his dancers, and he is grateful to have her on his management team, giving him advice on how to improve.

Hyejin is, in a word, amazing.

"I see the way you look at her," Jimin teases you tonight the moment she walks in sporting a red one-piece latex bodysuit with long sleeves and a deep v-collar, putting her thighs on glorious display. She wears matching red thigh-high boots, and her long, dark brown hair falls past her shoulders in waves.

Although you turn your head in the direction of Jimin's voice, your eyes stay on Hyejin as she struts over to the bar where Jeongguk is leaning forward on his elbows, getting his attention by draping herself over him and slamming her hip against his side. 

"Hmm?" you finally ask when seeing the two of them standing side-by-side has your cheeks feeling entirely too warm, though it still takes a few stray seconds to pull your gaze to Jimin. 

He has one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and he tongues the inside of his cheek, making you feel even more embarrassed. You are only human…what does he expect from you?

Tonight, Jimin wears silver shimmer on his eyes, with his brown hair styled off his forehead. His black satin button-up is undone to the center of his chest, and it is tucked into very tight, fitted black slacks, styled with black boots. 

Everyone at Paradise is honestly so breathtaking; it is no wonder the place brings in so many high-rollers willing to spend top dollar. Although you are determined to keep Jimin as a friend only—not that he has ever shown signs of wanting more from you—you still find yourself stunned by his beauty.

"Gonna start calling you fawn instead of dove," Jimin teases, and you snicker at the wordplay, unwilling or able to deny you have been fawning over Hyejin since the moment you met her. 

"I need a pet name bingo card," you tease, scrunching your nose to feign annoyance, despite finding it cute. 

You smell a familiar perfume—bright floral and lightly fruity—dance softly in the air before you feel an arm sling around your waist, and you take a fortifying breath before turning to find Hyejin's beaming red smile inches from your face. 

"Hey, dove," she greets in a deep, sultry tone that makes every little hair on your body stand up. 

"Hey, Hyejin," you respond as your cheeks become hot.

"What are you up to tonight?" she asks, giving your waist a squeeze before sliding her arm away but staying just as close. "Practicing any more of your dance moves?"

You chuckle and shake your head, feeling nervous about talking to her, of all people, about dancing. Once Jimin let it slip that he was showing you floor moves, both Hyejin and Jeongguk began hounding you for a demonstration. 

"Ahhhh, probably not," you respond, sounding just as awkward as you feel. "I was planning on sitting here tonight and drinking all of Jimin's expensive whiskey for free."

Hyejin pouts and it sends your heart haywire, making you nearly cave. "I want to see your moves," she says in a sweet, baby voice that has you floundering for words—deciding that you would probably do anything to satisfy her. 

"Maybe once I feel more confident," you respond demurely, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

This seems to satisfy her, and she winks as she says, "Looking forward to it," before walking off to the dressing rooms to check on her dancers. 

"Holy shit," you mutter under your breath once she is gone, catching your breath as if you had just run a marathon. 

Jimin scoffs, teasing you as he says, "You are such a whore," and you laugh with him, rubbing your palms over your face. The effect that she has on you must be as obvious to her as it is to everyone else, and the prospect of that makes you nervous.

You have begun to dress a little nicer when you visit Paradise, starting from the first night Hyejn was introduced to you—wearing the more casual designer dresses that Jimin graciously brought from your room at the mansion, and letting him do your hair and makeup. She always gets a little too close when you have your cleavage showing, so you have been displaying it more and more lately.

"She's just so pretty," you complain as if it is an inconvenience, making Jimin laugh anymore. 

"Careful, doll," Jeongguk's voice speaks way too close to your right ear, causing you to gasp and flinch, turning in the direction of the sound. "Keep flirting with her and it might make me jealous."

You scoff and lean away from Jeongguk, who only crowds closer, teasing you with a grin. Recently, Jeongguk has gotten his eyebrow and lip pierced, both on the right side—your left—and he keeps his hair cut short with a sharp, dark undercut. Today, his hair is styled in a swoop over his forehead, and his delicate, floral musky scent is dizzying the closer he gets. 

Since working at Paradise, Jeongguk has begun to dress a little differently, and you find yourself unable to keep from sneaking glances at the slivers of skin he kept hidden behind buttons and t-shirts before. He continues to don his standard all-black attire, but he has also switched to satin, much like Jimin. His shirts are always unbuttoned to the center of his toned chest with no undershirt, and tonight he has several silver chains of various lengths and widths cascading from his neck. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," you tease as you take a step away from Jeongguk and spin on your toes, toward the bar. A sexy R&B song plays loudly, and you swish your hips to the rhythm, knowing without having to glance back that he is watching you. 

And although you tell yourself that you should not enjoy his attention so much—or anyone's attention, for that matter—you revel in the thrill it gives you. Yoongi and Namjoon have both encouraged you to pursue him, anyway…surely they wouldn't mind if you have a little innocent fun. After all, you have no idea when you may see the two of them again.

Nights at Jimin's house are lonely. His mansion is huge and empty, and you prefer not to spend much time there by yourself, which means you tend to be at Paradise from late evening to mid-morning most nights. At first, you thought your sleep schedule would adjust and you would become a night owl just like Jimin and Jeongguk, but as the days wear on, you find yourself exhausted, floating through a realm of half-wakefulness. The drinking likely does not help. 

But what other choice do you have? Despite the deep ache behind your ribs, it feels too soon to return to Namjoon. During a brief phone call shortly after returning from Paris, he mentioned Yoongi was in the countryside at a facility to help him get past the first three weeks of withdrawal. 

From time to time, you find yourself wondering how long it has been since you returned from Paris. It could have been weeks, but it could have been days; you have been disinterested in keeping track, finding the tangible passage of time too painful to confront. You figure the time will come when they are both ready to return to you and not a moment sooner; no use dwelling on it.

On the nights when all you wish to do is let go and forget, you either sit at the center stage and watch the strip shows with a drink in hand, or you head to the upper-level VIP section of the club and dance by the railings. When you are feeling outgoing, you find a group of drunk, friendly women by the back bar to become single-use friends with for the night and dance until bar close. 

Back when you first moved into the mansion, Paradise was apparently a dance club with a brothel beneath, just like Serendipity. But during the weeks leading up to your Paris trip, Jimin had been working on getting the space remodeled—hence why you had not seen him around much, for a while. There still is a dancefloor, but it is rather compact near the back bar; not too many people come to Paradise just to dance. 

The main room now consists of three stages—two smaller ones on either side of the room, and one large stage in the center, all equipped with a spinning poll. Everything is made up of dark wood, black leather, and chrome.

Beneath Paradise, there are still brothel rooms, but it is a very hush-hush affair that not too many patrons seem aware of. A patron can book any of the dancers for a private strip show and lap dance in a back room, but anything explicitly sexual is kept strictly to the lower level, and unless someone knows how to ask for it, they will get removed from the premises in a heartbeat. 

Jimin oversees all Paradise operations, but his main focus is on the activities that take place underground. Jeongguk and Hyejin oversee everything on the main floors, including the strip stages, the back bar and dancefloor, and the VIP bar upstairs, which is more or less just a mezzanine with a bar and booths that cost a pretty penny to use. 

Paradise is your oyster, and you more or less have free reign to do anything you would like.

During the nights when you do not feel like drinking, you go to the dance studio. Sometimes, Jimin goes along to let off some steam, either before he needs to run things at Paradise, or when he has a break in his duties. Other times, you go alone. 

You have been getting a hang of moving your body in ways Jimin has shown you, and in new ways that you are discovering on your own. And although you are nowhere near as flexible or fluid as he is, you are surprised by how your body can bend and move and stretch when you allow it patience and grace to learn how. You get why he, and the other dancers at Paradise, take so much pride in their craft. To the patron, it may just seem like stripping and ass-shaking for some loose notes, but to them, and to you, it truly is an art form.

On nights when you dance, the loneliness is not at all quelled, and you find yourself spacing out often and getting lost in your thoughts. But the more you move and let out all of your pent-up energy, the lighter the loneliness seems to feel. Some nights you are able to relax and feel at peace, rolling and stretching your body without a care in the world. It gives you hope that there truly may be a light at the end of this tunnel, no matter how long it takes for you to reach it.  

"Hey, pretty," a familiar sultry voice purrs, giving you goosebumps. 

It is some unknown night in the middle of the week, and you left a group of bachelorettes by the back bar to step outside and smoke a joint. It is rare that anyone is out here, and you are surprised to find Hyejin, of all people, leaning against the brick wall in this quiet, employees-only escape tucked away in a dark alley. This spot is nestled behind a tall fence, past which is a set of dumpsters and a narrow path out to the main roads.

Hyejin is beautiful as always, wearing a black long-sleeve crop top shirt and high-waisted short shorts, under which black garters stick out and are clipped to black thigh-high socks. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, slicked on the sides, and as she approaches, her mary jane heels clack against the pavement. 

"Hyejin," you mutter, swallowing thickly and abandoning the joint you had forgotten to light, cradling it in your fist. "Didn't realize you would be out here."

Tonight, she wears a nude lipstick rather than the red you have grown accustomed to, and her smile is not quite as warm. As she approaches, you are greeted by her lightly fruity, floral perfume. 

"Stepped out for a breather," she sighs, eyes falling to your hand before they meet your gaze. With a raise of her eyebrows, she adds, "Mind if I help you smoke that?"

Your brain has to reboot before you lift your hand to inspect its contents, and you remember what you came outside for, chuckling as you hold out the joint and lighter to her and say, "Of course. You can hit greens."

Every once in a while, Hyejin will smile shyly. She has a practiced shy smile that she uses on Jimin, Jeongguk, and plenty of her customers—honed to perfection to get just what she wants. But this one is soft and delicate, filling her beautifully golden-tawny-toned cheeks with a deep red blush. 

As she unfurls the soft smile that opens into a toothy grin, she reaches out both slender manicured hands and takes your offering, gently scratching her long, painted-black fingernails against your palms. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you giggle, squeezing your hands shut before opening them again.

"That tickles," you admit when she looks curiously, laughing softly at you.

"You're easily ticklish, hmm?" she mutters with the joint cradled between her lips, then flicks on the lighter, giving her face a beautiful golden glow while igniting the tip and sucking in. 

Hyejin takes a slow inhale followed by a sharp one, then holds her breath and passes the joint to you. When she lets out an exhale, smoke plumes in front of her, and you take a nice, big hit and hold it in, just the same. 

The smoke is warm in your lungs and licks at your senses. As you breathe it out, you feel a small sense of release, letting your shoulders drop and your body relax. 

When you turn to hand the joint back to Hyejin, she is standing much closer, leaning on the sliver of brick wall between you and the closed back door. You instinctively take a step back but rotate so that you are facing her, with barely any space between you. This time, when she smiles, her eyes have the sparkle that you are used to, but there is still an unmissable hint of sadness swirling in their deep umber depths. 

"You know, you can always talk to me if you need someone," she offers unprompted as she takes a hit and hands the joint back. 

You nod and mull it over, unsure where you would even begin. You have no idea what Hyejin knows about your situation, and although you think you can trust her, there is a part of you that is unsure whether you really want to talk about it, especially right now. 

"Thank you," you say before taking a hit and holding it in. Hyejin turns her head to blow the smoke away from your face, then she reaches out one hand and gently rubs her fingertips over your wrist, snaking them into the sleeve of your black denim jacket and sending a tingling warmth into your bloodstream.

You turn your head to exhale, then hold up the joint, asking, "More?"

"I'm good right now," she responds softly, and you move your hand away from her inviting touch to pinch the lit end off onto the ground. In your pocket is a small plastic tube into which you slide the joint, placing a little plastic cap over the end so that its smell does not stick to your clothing, and then you return your arm to its spot and allow her fingers to resume exploring your wrist and hand.

"I appreciate the offer," you try, hearing the way your voice trembles as the weed settles over you and fills you with a heavy-weightless warmth, buzzing in a deep thrum that tenses and relaxes and relaxes and relaxes. Sheepishly, with a giggle, you add, "I don't…really know where to begin."

Hyejin's hand sides into yours, palm against palm, fingers wrapping and holding on tight. 

"That's okay," she responds with a disarming smile. "I just wanted to offer, just in case. I know you have Jimin and Jeongguk, too."

At this, you laugh and sink further against the brick wall, tilting your head to rest against the scratchy, unwelcoming surface. "I do have them…for better or worse."

Hyejin laughs in understanding, then she rolls her eyes and says, "Jeongguk is so possessive; I thought the two of you were dating when you first started coming around."

"Oh?" you respond, a bit surprised by this news. Admittedly, when you first began coming to Paradise, you thought there was something going on between the two of them. It took a couple nights to realize that the way Hyejin hangs off of and pouts at her manager is all an act. "We're…not…" you begin, trailing off, unsure what to say.

"He clearly has feelings for you, regardless," she adds, and you search her face and fidget in place. Hyejin seems genuine and sweet, but you are so used to women in this line of work having ulterior motives and using kindness as a tool to gain information and an upper hand. But that does not seem to be what she is doing, and you let out the breath that had gotten trapped in your lungs and nod, chuckling lightly. 

"Yeah," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm. "He…certainly does."

"Oh my god," Hyejin teases, squeezing your hand until you look at her wide, beaming smile. "You like him too, don't you?"

Try as you might to shake your head and mutter, "No," she mirrors the movement, laughing and practically shouting, "Yes, you definitely do! You are a terrible liar, dove!" 

"It's…complicated," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut with embarrassment. 

A sweet giggle flits through the air like a flutter of butterflies, and you open your eyes to find Hyejin regarding you with the sweetest smile. 

"I won't judge you," she assures, giving your hand another squeeze. "I don't know a lot about your relationship, but Jimin has mentioned you are dating two men, which…honestly, sounds like a dream come true."

Your heart seizes a bit around the word dating, and you swallow thickly and nod, unwilling to go down that path. Nothing has ever been established, despite your confessions of love and the huge, expensive fake-engagement ring that sits in your dark, empty bedroom. Sometimes, if you allow yourself to dwell on it, both the distance and time spent away from them make you worry that things may have an end date that is sooner than you expect. 

But none of this is pertinent enough information to share at a time like this, so you smile as convincingly as you can while saying, "It has its perks."

Hyejin returns your smile and closes the already meager space between the two of you to press a kiss against your cheek. Her mouth is soft and warm, and you let your eyes flutter closed, smiling from the smell of bluebells and apple that fills your senses. As she pulls her lips back, she stays close, cradling your chin with her hand while opening her mouth to continue speaking. However, the back door flies open, cutting off what she was going to say.

The sight of Jeongguk looking around the corner makes you gasp and back up, kicking up a flurry of feelings in your chest. Despite nothing happening between you and Hyejn, this feels like too precarious of a position to be caught in suddenly. Daresay, it may appear somewhat intimate. 

Jeongguk's expression is wide and shocked, but it quickly melts to intrigue. He steps outside and approaches, slinging an arm over both your shoulder and Hyejin's. 

"Well, what have we here?" he asks with a tone that is far too gleeful for anyone's good. 

"I was just telling our dove that I am here if she needs anything, and then I gave her a kiss on the cheek," Hyejin says, turning to Jeongguk and standing on her toes to plant her lips against his jaw. 

Jeongguk looks affronted and gasps as she says, "There, now nobody is left out."

"Listen, I'm not here to break up whatever is going on between my favorite girls." Jeongguk says, gaze on you as he raises an eyebrow and adds, "I just didn't know our doll swings both ways."

Feeling indignant and a little claustrophobic, you shrug away from Jeongguk's arm and give his shoulder a shove. 

"For your information, I go…all ways…" you mutter with a grimace, trailing off because you do not owe him an explanation. Labels for sexual orientation may work for some, but they have never been your thing; you like people for people, and it is as simple as that. Defensive, you add, "But she was just giving me a friendly little kiss on the cheek, so it doesn't matter."

Jeongguk grunts unconvincingly, then leans in close to say, "But a kiss between friends can easily spiral into something more, can it not?"

With that, Jeongguk takes a step back, leaving you standing shell-shocked and ready to smack him. Jeongguk winks and says, "Hyejin-noona, when you're ready, I have some things I wanna go over with for tonight," then he walks inside. 

Hyejin holds out her elbow, asking, "Shall we?" and you lift a hand to slide against her soft skin, allowing her to lead the way. 

Once you are back inside, the bachelorette group is still at the back bar, drunker and louder than when you left them, and you wave Hyejin and Jeongguk off as you walk over and allow the women to pull you into their chaotic little group for shots. 

You wake up late in the evening with a hangover after hanging with the bachelorette group the night and morning before, taking shot after shot of overly sweet liquor that was far too strong for its own good. It feels like it has been ages since you have felt so awful, and the thought of having even a drop more of alcohol makes your stomach churn.

So, tonight, rather than go to Paradise, you decide to visit the dance studio to practice the floor moves Jimin has been teaching you. Although you are still certain you have no desire to dance at the club, practicing the moves has been cathartic. And it helps you slow down on drinking. Being a lush for a while has definitely been one way to handle your myriad tumultuous emotions, but the hangovers are too frequent, and after what you felt earlier today, you are eager to change your ways.

Dancing also makes you feel sexy. You enjoy watching the way your body can curve and flex, bending and swaying in ways you had never really attempted before. Tonight you alternate between taking moves slowly on the floor, facing away from the mirrors, before attempting to add speed and flow to them while watching your reflection. 

With the cassette mixtape that Jimin has scribbled Whore Mix onto playing through the boombox, you stretch on a dark purple yoga mat that sits in the center of the floor while a sultry voice sings and raps over a beat that begs your hips to move, with the mirrors to your left and the studio door behind you.  

The approaching click-clack of boots against the wooden floor that greets you does not strike you as odd at first; you have grown accustomed to Jimin and his affinity for boots. So you continue practicing without turning to greet him.

Anchored back on your elbows, sitting on the mat on your left hip, with both legs bent, you stretch your right leg straight and fan it out at an angle lifted in front of you. In the same fluid motion, you lift your left leg, creating a v-shape in the air. Then you curl your legs in, trying to perfect the graceful movement that Jimin is so good at, twisting until you are on your right hip.

Only when clapping echoes through the room do you realize that the boots had stopped moving and that the tell-tale frenetic energy Jimin always brings to the studio is missing. You turn with a gasp and find Jeongguk standing in the center of the room, wearing his standard all-black. His button-up is undone enough to show a dip of his chest, as always, with no shirt underneath, and it is tucked into black slacks that are so fitted, the material strains against his thighs when he shifts from one foot to the other. 

"My, my," Jeongguk teases, approaching before squatting beside you. "What have I walked in on?"

Instinctively, you lean away, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. You sit wearing a tight purple sports bra and very tight, very short black athletic shorts, making you self-conscious to be met with such a hungry stare, especially knowing that he had been watching you, just now. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, having to clear your throat to get more sound out. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to see if Jimin was here. Wanted to run a few things by him."

You nod, feeling like a fish out of water with how your mouth hangs open. Jeongguk's cologne is stronger than usual and a little different tonight—musky and floral with hints of spice—and you find it incredibly intoxicating. 

"But what I found is far more enticing," Jeongguk continues with a smirk.

Silence falls between you, and you feel your hands prickle with sweat. All you can think about is that kiss in Hong Kong and the chemistry you found in his lips—how delicately he asserted control but never pushed or pulled too much, causing you to unravel in moments. You want to feel that again—want to feel him again—so much that it seems like a bad idea for you to be left alone with him, like this. Flirting in the club, with people around, is one thing, but here, alone, seems dangerous.

Jeongguk stands, and you let out a heavy breath, then swallow a lump, feeling relief wash over you at the thought of him leaving. But then he walks over to the corner, to where some black chairs are shoved together, and he grabs one. Anxiety washes over you when he begins to bring the chair over, boot heels echoing loudly against the floor as he places it beside you and has a seat. He spreads his legs and leans forward, resting his wrists against his knees, tattooed hands so close you could reach out to him. 

With his lips tugged into a sharp grin, he says, "Let me see that move again."

You must look as stunned as you feel, blinking up at him, because he chuckles and raises his pierced eyebrow, clearly amused by your lack of response. 

"Come on, dollface," Jeongguk teases, leaning even closer and dropping his voice far too low for comfort. "Don't be shy."

Even as nervous as you are under his piercing stare, you like the attention he gives you. But continuing what was started between you without Yoongi or Namjoon present feels wrong, and it stirs up guilt and shame, starting in your tummy and working its way to your throat. You want to show Jeongguk your moves and crawl to him, grind your hips over his lap until he calls you noona and begs you for more. But not here. Not like this. 

Luckily, the click-clack that actually belongs to Jimin's boots storms down the hallway and into the room, giving you an out. 

"I told you to meet me in my office," Jimin complains, approaching with his hands on his hips, one balled into a fist that holds onto a manilla envelope. "Why did you come here? To bother her?"

"I must have misread the text," Jeongguk responds, eyes still on you while they glimmer mischievously before turning his attention to Jimin. "Office…dance studio…same thing."

Jimin lunges forward and slaps the envelope against the back of Jeongguk's head, saying, "Not the same thing, and you know it!" before shoving the document into his hands. 

You watch somewhat stunned as Jeongguk's mouth falls agape, and he chuckles. Then, as he begins to open and read through the contents of the folder, you take your leave, rolling the yoga mat in your hands as you walk away. Draped over one of the black chairs in the corner is a black hoodie and sweatpants, and you pad over, set the mat onto a chair, and slink into the garments, keeping your hair tucked into the shirt and the hood pulled low over your face.

"Gonna head back to work," Jimin says in a flurry, exiting just as fast as he arrived with the folder in his hand. "Come to the club if you want. Or call me if you need anything."

With a nod, you turn on your toes and begin for the door.

"And just where are you going?" Jeongguk asks, stopping you in your tracks and pushing a sigh from your lungs.

"Home," you say before your lips flounder, and you correct yourself, heavy-blinking. "Jimin's place."

With a hum, Jeongguk stands and says, "I'll drive you," picking up his chair to bring it back to where he got it from. 

Although you have made no plans for a ride, you know that Hoseok was at the club earlier, and you had planned to call and see if he was around. Jeongguk giving you a ride would definitely be convenient, but is that something you want right now?

"You have work to do," you insist, shaking your head and feeling nervous at the thought of being in a vehicle alone with him. 

But Jeongguk sets the chair down, takes you by the back of the arm, and begins to usher you rather forcefully out the door. As your sneaker heels dig into the wooden floor, rubber squeaking with each step he makes you take, you feel petulant, and you are dragged to the dark hallway before you manage to yank yourself out of his grasp and take an uneasy step back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, feeling anger rise and fighting the urge to slap him. 

"What?" Jeongguk says through a chuckle, looming over you while he steps forward, closing the distance with each step you take backward until you hit the wall. "You're dancing like a whore now, so I figured you wanted to be treated like one, too."

Although you feel anger buzzing through you like a livewire, sending every nerve on high alert, more than anything, you feel deflated. Despite Jimin jokingly using that word to tease you, there is something about the way Jeongguk says it—something almost sardonic and mocking in his tone, met with how forcefully he dragged you out of the room. It settles like bile in your guts and makes you feel extremely uncomfortable. 

But, rather than put up a fight and challenge him, you storm away, shoving past his weak attempt to hold you back as you stomp toward the door. 

"Hey," Jeongguk calls, heavy footsteps trailing behind you. "What's the matter with you?"

Unable to hold in your rage, you spin on your toes, shoving your palms against Jeongguk's chest as you say, "What's the matter with you?"

Jeongguk hardly flinches, and when you step forward to push him again, he grips onto your wrists and holds you still, tugging you close to him but not in a way that is meant to be rough or suggestive. He almost looks worried, brows knit as he studies your face. 

"Hey, hey," he mutters, holding onto you just tight enough that you have no choice but to stop lashing out. 

Somehow it works. Maybe because you are exhausted, or maybe it is the floral, musky scent of his cologne—or a combination of things wrecking your tiny sense of sanity—but you hold still and let Jeongguk softly shush you while rubbing his thumbs over the knobby joints in your wrists.

"I don't like it when you talk about women that way," you say, feeling a swell of sadness fill your chest. You are aware that this is likely a trauma response to the way men have treated you in the past, but you need to at least attempt to establish a boundary. "I know we joke about it at the club, but the way you said it, I—" You close your eyes and shake your head. 

"When have I ever talked about women that way?" Jeongguk asks, voice sounding more defensive than apologetic. "Look, I was joking. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it, okay?" you insist, yanking your hands away until Jeongguk relents and folding your arms over your chest. "I was a whore before, Jeongguk. Is it so terrible? Do you really need to make it sound so demeaning? Yoongi's mother was a whore, too, you know."

Jeongguk's face pales, and he appears angry for a split moment, but you do not attempt to argue. Perhaps it is out of pocket to bring up Yoongi's dead mother, but you were a part of the honey bees who came after her; you belonged to the same organization, come hell and high water. 

"You're right," he says, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don't look down on sex workers, and I shouldn't talk as if I do. I'm sorry I offended you. I know that we make jokes, and I guess I got carried away. I didn't consider how even playful actions might bring up bad memories for you, and I get what that's like."

Surprised and unsure what to say, you rock on your feet a little before settling on, "Okay."

"My mother was a whore too," Jeongguk adds, stepping forward slowly. "I never held it against her. Even when it got her killed, I never thought badly about her."

There it is, once more—the taste of guilt.

"Jeongguk," you say, taking a step forward, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head. 

"I offended you. I'm the one apologizing. Let me make it up to you by driving you home?"

You nod, conceding. "Alright."

The walk to Jeongguk's black sports car is quiet in a way that feels charged and awkward, but as you settle in, you begin to relax. Silence continues to hang during most of the drive, and all the while, you think of Yoongi. As you stare out at the city lights that fade the further you get from the city, you wonder how he must be doing and whether he will return home soon. 

"Did you supply the heroin?" you ask without thinking, staring out at the dark roads past the city line. 

As silence stretches, part of you worries that Jeongguk might be offended by your question, and you keep your eyes on the shadowed hints of trees, refusing to acknowledge the expression on his face. 

Finally, Jeongguk mutters a simple, "No," and you allow yourself to regard him. 

Jeongguk's jaw is tense, and he stares ahead at the road, tonguing on the inside of his mouth while both hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

"I didn't think you did," you respond softly, watching as his pierced eyebrow raises. "I don't know why I felt compelled to ask."

Jeongguk's gaze flicks to you, then back on the road. "Because you overheard my conversation with Namjoon that morning outside your bedroom. And because I was the one in charge of the drug operations."

"Yeah," you respond with a shrug. "But I don't think you would be that careless."

With a hum from Jeongguk, silence settles once more. You relax back in your seat, watching the road curve and become a little hilly before evening out. By now, you are familiar with this stretch, anticipating the sight of the property to come into view very soon. 

Whenever you pass the mansion these days, it is dark and quiet. If not for the outdoor security lights, it would be nothing more than a looming shadow—a silhouetted remnant of lives at a standstill. Namjoon must sleep in his own home, and from time to time, you consider walking down the dirt and gravel path to his property to see him.

But everything feels off balance in a way that you struggle to reconcile, and you feel like you need a little more time. You fish your phone from your hoodie pocket and check his Instagram feed, sad to see he has not posted anything to his story. 

Namjoon likes to post his workout routines, what he is listening to, and shots from trips to museums. Lately, though, he barely shares anything, making the lack of his presence feel heavier. You nearly ask Jeongguk to drop you off at his place, but you cannot seem to open your mouth to get the words out.

Instead, you text him. 

Me: It's hard to keep tabs on you when you don't post story updates.

The message feels stupid, and you chew on the inside of your mouth once you hit send, staring at the screen and hoping that when he sees it, he does not find it annoying. Is there a chance of him being offended?

Three dots appear and disappear, over and over, making the anxiety in your tummy frantically build and crash like a wave pool that has just been switched on. But then he sends a simple little sentence that stirs both immense joy and deep, profound sadness— 

Namjoon: I miss you too, sweetheart.

—and you stare down at it until your vision blurs with tears.

As you open your mouth to ask to be taken to Namjoon's house, the dots appear and disappear again, and rather than speak, you clear your throat and wait for him to say more. 

"What is it?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn your head to him, confused at first, then realize he may have taken the sound as a feeble attempt at starting a conversation. 

"Oh," you respond, "Uh, nothing."

"Alright," Jeongguk says simply as he begins to turn into Jimin's driveway, waiting as the metal gate opens and allows you entrance.

As you pull into the drive, listening to the gate close behind you, the urge to cry becomes more difficult to tamp down. You swallow thickly, blinking away tears as Jeongguk stalls in front of the door. 

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn to regard him, but as soon as you open your mouth to tell him you are fine, the sounds die in your throat, and you have to swallow everything back down again. 

"Th-thanks for the ride," you manage to mutter as you get out of the vehicle and run to Jimin's door, punching in an eight-digit code and holding your eyes open as wide as you can manage for the retina scan. 

Once inside the dark, empty mansion, you sink against the cold, wooden door, feeling your chest heave with emotion so deep, you become nauseated. Gripped in your fist, your cell phone vibrates, and you lift the device in a shaking hand, checking the notification—

Namjoon: I miss your voice. And your smile. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

—which sends you crashing over the edge as tears pour and your voice comes out in a loud, terrible sob.

Your heart pounds as you cry, feeling the crushing weight of how deeply you miss Namjoon. Although each breath that enters and exits your lungs is a storm, rattling and shaking you to the core, you sniffle and hold your phone tightly in both hands as you place a call. It is late, but Namjoon is responding to texts, so perhaps he is free to talk. 

Namjoon picks up on the first ring, and when his deep, surprised voice says, "Hey, sweetheart," you sob even harder. How is it that something so tiny could make his absence feel so much heavier?

"Hey," Namjoon says, sweet and alert, "are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm okay," you cry, punctuated by a sniffle. "I'm at Jimin's. Everything is fine."

"Everything does not sound fine," Namjoon insists, and you smile softly at his concern, taking in a deep breath. "Do you need something? Can I…can I do anything?"

Namjoon still owes you an explanation, and it is not something you will easily let slip. But you are certain that you cannot continue to keep him at a distance, even if it means putting the much-needed conversation on the back burner. Although life with Jimin has been fun and a little exciting, the loneliness you feel from being away from Namjoon and Yoongi has a tendency to become excruciating. 

"Can I see you?" you ask weakly, like a child who is afraid of being scolded. 

The soft chuckle that proceeds, "Of course, you can," warms your heart, and you close your eyes and smile wide, clutching your phone tightly to your ear. "Give me ten minutes? I'll be right there."

With a wet, disgusting sniffle, you say, "Okay," and rub the back of your hand against your nose. 

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon says as he ends the call, and you nod to nobody as you drop your phone down and clench it to your heart. 

It takes effort, but you peel yourself from the floor and kick off your shoes before heading up the stairs to your borrowed bedroom, squinting as you switch on the light. The room is similar to your room in Yoongi's mansion, but the bedding and curtains are pinks and oranges—a permanent sunrise. 

As you cross the room to the walk-in closet, you pull off the joggers and athleticwear from earlier and find a cute, soft pair of pink sleep shorts and a matching, loose pink tee. Then you run into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Even though you did not drink anything tonight, you want to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruise, and you need to be minty fresh. 

By the time you are rinsing your mouth and wiping your chin off, you hear a loud knocking on the front door, surprised that ten minutes could have passed so quickly. You run out of the en suite and find your phone on the bed to shoot off a message before heading down to let Namjoon in.

Me: One minute!

Although the rest of the mansion is dark, Jimin also has security lights on outside, and they shine through the windows enough to cast a silver glow over the small mezzanine and down the steps. You scurry down quickly, feet carrying you light and fast, and when you get to the front door and fling it open, you hardly have a chance to take in the sight of Namjoon before he is crossing the threshold and lifting you into his arms. 

A sob quakes through you as you wrap your arms and legs around him, burying your face into his neck. He smells musky—a bit sweaty—but the bright cologne with gentle floral hints you are used to are present. Namjoon closes the front door, haphazardly steps from his shoes, and makes his way to the stairs, stepping slowly, as he holds you tight. If you are not mistaken, it feels like his breathing shutters through him, and you wonder if he may also be crying. 

"I'm sorry," you find yourself muttering when the silence stretches on long and oppressive. 

Namjoon squeezes you harder. 

"No," he says softly, voice trembling, "sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I made you cry," you sob, feeling guilt and sadness fill your lungs until it hurts to breathe.

Namjoon chuckles and sniffles, reaching the top landing of the stairs and turning to the right, toward the only light in the home that is on. He says, "Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid," and your heart goes wild behind your ribs, bursting with affection. 

"I've missed you so much," you whimper against Namjoon's skin, and when he leans forward and attempts to put you down onto the bed, you tighten your limbs, clinging to him like a koala.

"Let me set you down so we can get comfortable," Namjoon suggests, and you shake your head, groaning as you hold on tighter. He sighs, and tries, "Come on, I want to see you. I want to kiss you."

Once his attempts are futile, Namjoon gets onto his knees on the bed and bends until you are lying on your back with him towering over you. You finally move your head away from his neck and heavy-blink as you meet his eyes—which are bloodshot and blinking back tears.

"I've missed you too," Namjoon says as he kisses you, soft and sweet and warm. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. I should have told you about everything, but I was scared to."

Namjoon's kisses are salty and wet, and he trembles above you, gripping the blanket tightly in his fists on either side of your head. Finally, you concede to his need to get comfortable, and you press against his chest, rubbing your fingers over soft black cotton. 

"Hey, lay down," you say softly, pushing a little harder. "You were right, let's get comfortable."

Namjoon sighs through his tears and gets up onto his knees, then crawls over to the pillows and makes a feeble attempt at moving the bright pink and orange floral comforter away. You sit up and help him, then run to the door to close it before adjusting the dimmer switch, lowering the lights just enough so that you can still see him. 

When you turn back to the bed, Namjoon has figured out the comforter, which is bunched up at the end of the against his feet, and he is sitting against the wooden headboard with his hands in his lap, watching you with a soft expression while tear tracks shimmer against his cheeks. He wears a black tee and black joggers, with his legs extended out but one leg bent slightly at the knee, and he is breathtaking—just as you remembered him. Maybe even more so. 

He has gotten a haircut recently, just above his ears, making him look younger. And it is darker; a more natural color. Some time ago—maybe a few days, or maybe a week—Namjoon posted a mirror selfie of the cut, obstructed mostly by his phone, and you are happy to finally see it in person. 

As you get onto the bed, on your knees, Namjoon reaches for you, pulling against the backs of your thighs until you have no choice but to straddle his lap, giggling at his insistence. You settle and drape your wrists over his shoulders to rub your fingertips over the short hairs on his nape while Namjoon's smile oscillates between joy and sadness. 

"I want to tell you I'm sorry," you begin, without giving him a chance to speak. You have been thinking about this every sober waking moment of however much time has passed—and some intoxicated moments, as well—and you feel it is necessary to get it off your chest. Emotions rise as you gather your thoughts, and your next exhale comes out shaky. "I was angry in Paris, but the things I said to you and Yoongi did not come from the heart. I was hurt, and I still am, but…I don't understand addiction. I have no idea what Yoongi must be going through, and I—"

You choke on a sob suddenly as a flash of Yoongi's face comes into view. The hurt way in which he stared ahead, straight through you, while you screamed and cried and demanded to be taken home.

Gently, Namjoon rubs his hands up and down your back, covering you in comforting warmth. His smile is sad, but he does his best to show that he is listening and that he is receptive to what you need to say.

"I just feel so awful," you continue as tears fall. You are so tired of crying and hurting, but it is a necessary step in healing, and you do your best to let it quake through you and settle into your bones. "I love Yoongi. I don't want him to be in pain."

"He knows," Namjoon finally says, but you screw your eyes closed and shake your head. He may have an idea of what you are going through, but he needs to hear from you that you are sorry. You need to tell him, yourself. "Yoongi using again was a bit of a surprise to all of us. Although it is something I always fear may happen again, I really had no idea it would happen like that, especially on vacation."

"When is he coming home?" you ask, feeling hopeful.

"Less than a week," Namjoon responds, smiling sweetly as he lifts his hands to thumb away the tears on your cheeks. "I have cleaned out the mansion, and Jeongguk has made sure the team taking over his responsibilities knows that heroin and other opioids are off limits. Jeongguk was already avoiding selling either, in the first place, but he has reiterated that fact, to be on the safe side."

"That day, outside my room, you said there was a package with what looked like heroin," you say, watching as Namjoon's face screws up with worry. You grimace, adding, "I'm sorry I was eavesdropping."

"That…I still don't have all the details ironed out," Namjoon responds sullenly, "but I am certain that Jeongguk had nothing to do with it. Yoongi admitted that he had sent for the package on his own, and it arrived from overseas with a bunch of tailored suits. I don't know how he got a connect in Italy, but I really shouldn't be surprised; Yoongi knows people everywhere."

You nod somewhat listlessly, waiting for the crucial detail where Namjoon tells you he threatened the Italian guy, or found some way to rough him up—whatever the case—in order to keep him from sending Yoongi junk again. But when he does not continue, worry and sadness sink into your tummy like a brick. 

"So…" you begin, heavy-blinking and feeling at a loss for words before settling on, "...how do we make sure he doesn't use again?"

Although Namjoon continues to smile, his eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he returns to rubbing your back. 

"We just love and support him," he offers, which feels both gigantic and minuscule, all things considered. "We continue to be there for him and…hope that it is enough."

"That's it, huh," you sigh, defeated. 

"Yeah."

Silence hangs, and you let your vision blur, attempting to sort out what you could possibly do. What if loving Yoongi is not enough? What if the pressures of his lifestyle only continue to press and press on him until he sinks another needle into his vein, desperate for relief?

"I wish he could just…not do this anymore," you mutter, blinking Namjoon back into focus. "Maybe having all this power and responsibility is too much."

With a sad chuckle, Namjoon nods. "Yeah, well…the only way out of a life like his is death."

Although that is not the response you want, it is the one you expect, and you lean heavily into Namjoon, accepting it for now. There is not much more to say until Yoongi is back. 

"Can we sleep?" you ask, feeling your body become weighted down with exhaustion and warm with a comfort you have not felt in what has seemed like eons. 

"I would love to sleep," Namjoon responds sweetly, releasing you from his hold as you slide down to the bed and begin to reach for the comforter. 

Namjoon gets out of bed to turn off the light, and for a split moment, in the cold, crushing dark, you begin to feel anxiety rush over you. In the cold, crushing dark, you are alone, alone, alone, isolated and heavy and so terribly scared. But then the bed dips, and warmth slides into place beside you. Limbs settle with a familiar weight, and suddenly, the darkness feels and smells like home.

"I love you," you tell the darkness, gasping when lips graze your cheek, your nose, and finally, your mouth. 

"I love you, too," the darkness tells you sweetly as you begin to drift to sleep.

Tonight, you did not get to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruised, but you feel satisfied with the fact that you were able to lighten the burden of heavy sadness just a little. And, in a matter of days, when you have the same conversation with Yoongi, it may not go the same way, but at least the three of you can continue to take steps in the right direction, and that allows you to sink into sleep with a smile on your face. 

When you wake up alone, your first instinct is to panic. You sit up with a start and check for any sign of Namjoon, but the en suite door is wide open, and there is no sound coming from inside. The spot where he had slept is cold, and you begin to worry that it was all a dream and that he was never here at all. 

Frantically, you begin to search for your phone, which is not on your bedside table where you usually keep it, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry take over. What happened last night, and why is there no trace of him to be found?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes and run over the events of the night. You came in and changed, then you messaged Namjoon to let him know you were going down to let him in. Vaguely, you remember tossing your phone to the bed, and you begin yanking at your comforter, desperate to find it. 

Your phone must have been wrapped up in the bedding, because after only a moment of tussling and searching, you hear a nice loud thunk against the floor, at the foot of the bed. You let out an exasperated sigh and crawl to the edge, draping your body over the end as you reach and search for the device that has managed to find its way just under the bed frame. 

As soon as it is in your hand, you turn on the screen, eager to find evidence of Namjoon's existence, with your torso suspended in air. As soon as you see a notification from two hours ago, you smile and wiggle backward into a seated position to properly read it.

Namjoon Hey, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I left while you were still asleep. I tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I'll be visiting Yoongi this afternoon. If you want to come along and you see this before 2 PM, let me know. Otherwise, I hope to talk to you soon. Thank you for letting me in this morning; I slept better than I have in weeks. I love you. 

Although affection blooms brightly in your chest, you feel sadness squeeze you tight, like an old friend. You do want to see Yoongi. You want to see him so badly, it hurts. But you are not sure you want to see him before he comes home. Wherever he is staying, and whatever state he may be in…you are not sure that you are prepared for that. 

It is only 1:45 PM, so you decide to call Namjoon. Not only are you eager to hear his voice once more, but you are not eager to voice what is in your heart over text. 

He picks up on the second ring, sounding a bit winded when he says, "Hey, sweetheart."

"Namjoon," you respond brightly, smiling widely. "Hey, I just woke up and saw your message."

"Ah," he responds, breathing heavily, "what time is it?" After a pause, he shouts, "Oh, shit, Gguk, I gotta go!" 

You laugh as you hear them chatter lowly, then say their goodbyes, imagining how adorable Namjoon becomes when he is frantic—eyes wide and worried while he flails his muscular limbs around somewhat aimlessly. 

"Gguek and I were working out," Namjoon says as you hear the sound of a door open and shut. "Lost track of time."

You smile, nibbling your lip. "Good thing I called."

"Good thing, indeed. So, did you—"

You don't mean to cut Namjoon off, but there is enough of a break between his statements, that you say, "Listen, Namjoon, I'm—" then halt, realizing you had spoken over him.

"Go on," Namjoon urges, and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds of his breathing, of birds singing around him, and of feet walking somewhat frantically down the dirt and gravel path between mansions. 

"I don't think I can go," you finally say, feeling meek and embarrassed as your voice drops and comes out with a tremble. "It's just…I don't know what to expect, and it…it scares me."

Namjoon says nothing for a few moments, and it makes you worry. But then you hear him keying in the passcode to his home and let yourself breathe. He is probably too stressed to be multitasking while in a rush. 

"Can I call you back? Or maybe we can talk about this later?" Namjoon finally asks, and you let out an even deeper sigh in relief. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to come, but it feels like there is more you need to get off your chest. I have to take the fastest shower of my life, though, so that I can leave soon."

"Yeah, no…yeah. That's…" you stammer, squeezing your eyes closed and allowing yourself to smile while hot tears run from your eyes. Namjoon is so kind and understanding—so caring and giving. Affection burns for him, and you want to hug him so tight and never let him go. "If you want to tell Yoongi that we talked, I think it might make things easier for me later, but do whatever feels right…I don't know."

"I'll tell him what we discussed," Namjoon responds breathily as feet storm up a flight of stairs. "I know it'll make him happy to hear how you are doing, and how you have been handling things. I'm bringing him home in four days, so we can all sit down whenever you feel ready."

Four days is not soon enough, yet it feels like no time at all. Looming and terrifying, yet promising. 

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Namjoon."

When Namjoon says, "I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for calling," your heart squeezes, and more tears fall, cascading like tiny waterfalls. 

"I love you, Namjoon. Drive safe."

"Will do. Bye."

You mutter, "Bye," but your finger is already pressing the end call button, giving Namjoon all the time and space he needs to get ready. And then you hug your phone tight to your chest and continue to cry. 

Somehow, the happy tears feel thicker and hotter than sad tears—more present and urgent. If Yoongi comes back in four days, that means it has been just over two weeks in Jimin's home. You heavy-blink in an attempt to conceptualize the time, feeling ashamed by how little of it you remember. Briefly, you worry that you may have imposed, but Jimin has never so much as hinted at that fact, so you allow yourself to let the idea go.

It is difficult, at times, to accept the many ways in which you are loved. It feels strange to look back on how you ended up tangled in this web, with these men. Part of you wishes you and Yoongi could start over—meet organically and fall together not because of proximity and a need to cure a deep, aching loneliness that had built over years, but because you simply want to.

But could you simply want to fall in love with the head of a crime syndicate? No, you think. Probably not. 

Still, how do you explain that to someone who asks? I was kidnapped as collateral, but we fell in love feels like a story not too many people would understand. Probably, the average person would ask if you were alright and attempt to help you find refuge. Probably, they would be in their right mind to do so. 

The next three days drag. Knowing that you will see Yoongi and Namjoon again soon has you a little on edge, but not necessarily in a bad way. Your dancing suffers for it, and you find your movements too stiff, too off-beat; your head and your heart are clouded, and you cannot seem to get your body to do anything. Still, you try. Wasting away drinking at Paradise does not feel like the best way to spend your lonely nights, but you want to wait for Yoongi's return before spending too much time with Namjoon. 

Although the three of you have different bonds and dynamics, you almost feel guilty at the thought of hogging Namjoon to yourself while Yoongi is out healing in the countryside. Despite knowing he would tell you not to worry—to be with Namjoon and keep him company. 

And, part of you thinks of this time as getting your last moments in with Jimin before moving out of his space. You have not voiced it, but you have been going out of your way to spend just a little more time with him after work, before the two of you crash for the morning and sleep, curled up on the couch with whichever anime he feels like playing in the background—currently, Attack on Titan. 

Jimin is phenomenal company, and you have really enjoyed following him around the house while he cooks, practices impromptu dance moves around furniture, and talks about nothing and everything. Even in quiet, still moments eating ice cream in the glow of the television, you feel the bond that has formed quickly and effortlessly, thankful to have a friend and ally on your side.

Despite the budding friendship, Jimin remains a somewhat secretive person. You have learned that his upbringing was privileged and full of wealth, but his parents were not kind about his desire to chase his own dreams instead of taking over the family business, and they quickly cut him off when he went to school for contemporary dance. It took no time at all for Jimin to wind up houseless, using his beauty to sleep with wealthy men and women for a meal and a warm bed. 

When Yoongi's mother found Jimin on the streets, she took him in with the promise of a better life, but how he came to replace her is unknown. How long Jimin spent on the streets, the kinds of things he saw in that time…all of those details, he hides behind a bright, practiced smile, only given away by the sadness that pours from his beautiful, round eyes. 

"I see myself in you, dove," Jimin says often, usually accompanied by a side hug or a kiss on the cheek. 

And at first, it made you feel strange. Jimin has come so far that maybe, you had originally thought, he sees you as a pet project; someone who needs to be fixed and turned into something beautiful. But now, you know that is not true. You know that Jimin sees persistence and survival; he sees someone imperfect but caring who just needs a little push to understand and figure things out, at times. 

Everything he has, he gained with persistence and survival; nothing was handed to him. Yoongi and his men, and possibly Yoongi's mother, taught Jimin the skills he knows today, that make him who he is. None of them became this successful alone; all seven of them play a crucial role. Eight, now, with you. 

You feel sentimental tonight when you lean against the bar cradling a glass of whiskey that you have been nursing for the last hour. Tomorrow, Yoongi returns home, and although it has not been voiced aloud, you can tell that the prospect has Jimin and Jeongguk in a better mood. You even spot Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung coming in and out of Paradise, and they all seem chipper. 

Jimin is done up with pink and silver stage makeup, with his eyes and lips bright and shining. He wears his standard black satin top tucked into tight, leather black jeans, and tonight, he has a thick black rhinestone choker around his neck. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is pattern-clashing in a way that is both alluring and confusing. As standalone items, his silk, long-sleeve, plunging neckline leopard print shirt, and tight silver and blue floral lurex pants are solid choices. The shirt's neck falls nearly to his navel, showing beautiful topography of his chest—dips and hills of muscle and golden-tanned skin, accentuated by several mismatched gold necklaces; and the pants shine brightly in every light that dares grace his figure, drawing the eye to his muscular thighs and perky, round ass. But they look so strange and mismatched together, you cannot help but question what on earth he was thinking. 

"You sure have a staring problem, tonight," Jeongguk chides as he walks by, sending an inviting wink that makes you laugh far too boisterously.

"Just trying to figure out what you have going on, here," you respond with an incredulous smirk. "Did you get dressed in the dark, Gguk?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk responds, "Both items are Dolce and Gabbana, but okay."

And, without missing a beat, you say, "Pretty sure Dolce and Gabbana also produce plain clothes that would match better than this. Your black satin shirts would look really good with those pants, and…well, anything else would look good with that shirt."

"I don't expect you to understand fashion," Jeongguk teases, raking his eyes over your form as he takes a step closer. 

"Black, Jeongguk," you say, chin tilted high. "You have a closet full of black that would look phenomenal with both pieces."

With Jeongguk stepping into your personal space, that damned cologne hits you, and you begin to lose your composure. He really is suitable for smelling like a bouquet of wildflowers, especially with the spicy musk underneath; it is perfectly him. 

"I don't expect someone in boring Vuitton rags to appreciate the nuance," Jeongguk teases, voice dropping lower as he towers before you. 

"This dress costs as much as both that shirt and those pants combined," you bicker more quietly than before. The dress you wear tonight is certainly less flattering or flashy than what he wears—a Louis Vuitton brown and black knit mini dress with glitter thread mottling throughout. It has a square, rolled neckline and thin straps, but it hugs your curves nicely, falling mid-thigh. You raise your eyebrow to add, "Boss Min happens to like the way I look in Vuitton rags."

At the mention of Yoongi, Jeongguk softens, and you know you have won this round. Jeongguk scoffs, then slams back the rest of his drink, spinning on his shiny black leather boots before stomping off to where Hyejin and the dancers are congregated behind the main stage, going over something pertaining to the newly installed dance cages on either side of the bar, judging by how she points to them. 

You watch as Jeongguk walks away, allowing your gaze to linger on how those gaudy, silver-blue pants shimmer when they hug his ass, thanking your lucky stars that his silly fashion sense has, at the very least, provided you with a good show. 

When you turn back to the bar, you drink the rest of your whiskey and ask for another. The night is still young; the club has barely just opened and only a few patrons linger during the hours before the dancers take to the stages, but you have a feeling you are going to need to at least have a steady buzz to handle whatever bullshit Jeongguk is on. 

Two hours into your night, you are proven correct during a very flirty conversation with Hyejin about the dance cages—about how she thinks you should make your Paradise debut in one, asking if you would ever let her handcuff you to the bars—when the bartender informs you that the boss would like to see you in his office. 

Jimin seldom calls you to his office, but he is the only one who properly has one, so you head toward the back of the main room, past a security guard, and into a hallway that leads to Jimin's office, the dressing rooms for the dancers, and a meeting room that Hyejin and Jeongguk use when they need to. 

As you make your way to the door, you can hear the sounds of dancers chattering and laughing coming down the hall, and you assume that Jeongguk must be giving them their nightly pep talk in one of the dressing rooms. You knock twice on the office door, then try the handle. To your surprise, when you enter, the room is empty. 

Jimin has allowed you in his space alone plenty of times, so you make your way to have a seat in the leather armchair just in front of his desk. You decide to check your notifications while you wait and pull your phone from a small black purse that is slung over your shoulder.

The door opens and closes behind you, so you put the phone away before you have a chance to turn the screen on. And, instinctively, you stand to greet Jimin, surprised when you turn to find Jeongguk closing in, fast. 

Before you have a chance to speak, Jeongguk has the armchair shoved away, caging you against Jimin's desk, leaning close and low with both of his hands gripping the wooden surface. You practically sit against the edge, doing your best to lean back and away from Jeongguk, but he is a persistent, towering presence, and he wastes no time dragging his lips over your neck, just below your ear, sending a rush of arousal tingling through you at the touch. The scent of his cologne has your senses simultaneously dulled and on high alert.

"Jeongguk," you gasp, attempting to twist away but finding you do not want him to stop. "We can't—"

"I know," Jeongguk responds, voice deep and silky, lips dipping lower, dragging across your throat and leaving only the faintest hint of a spit trail. "Just want to tease you a little; make you squirm."

"Why?" you breathe, leaning back to create more space. 

When Jeongguk does not move, you lift your hands and press against his chest, attempting to push him back, but your palms slide on the silk shirt, and you wind up rubbing over his nipples, feeling metal under the drag of skin, causing Jeongguk to hiss as you gasp. Arousal builds and builds, and you squeeze your tights together, desperate to stave off the effect he has on you; you are, admittedly, touch-starved and somewhat feral. 

"I know you feel it, too," Jeongguk practically groans, still leaning way too close, voice spoken beside your ear. "We have undeniable chemistry."

"Of course I feel it," you respond, closing your eyes in an attempt to get your bearings while your heart pounds dizzyingly fast. 

Jeongguk asks, "Do you know how fucking hard it is to keep my hands off you?" in a tone that almost seems steeped in pain.

"Yes," you mutter softly, nodding shallowly. "I think I do."

With a sigh, Jeongguk finally takes a step back, but he stays close enough that you have to crane your neck; there is no room for you to stand away from the desk. The two of you stare at one another, and then Jeongguk scoffs and shakes his head. 

"Seeing you around so much has been…god, you drive me insane."

You chuckle, though you feel somewhat awkward being faced with his admission. Although, truth be told, being in Jeongguk's proximity so much during the last few weeks has also made you want to see him more and more; you know that, once you return to your normal life, you will come to miss him a lot. Or, perhaps, you can continue spending time at Paradise; there is nothing saying you cannot. 

"Last night, when I dropped you off," Jeongguk says, reaching up to gently cradle your chin in his hand, surprising you with his shift in demeanor, "were you crying?"

Although you glance away to respond, shyness rises, you nod slightly and say, "Yeah."

"Was it something I said?"

Quickly, you nod and return your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks genuinely concerned. "No. I was crying because I was missing Yoongi and Namjoon."

Jeongguk hums, drops his hand away, and takes a step back. 

Suddenly, the silence feels heavy, and you struggle to identify his reaction. He very clearly knows your involvement with both men, so why tense up at the mention of them?

"What's the matter?" you ask, unwilling to let anything weird hang between you. 

Jeongguk shrugs, but his eyes are on the floor, and it is clear that something is bothering him. 

"Jeongguk," you insist.

He sighs, and, without looking at you, says, "It just sucks that when things become normal again with you guys…I just…it's been nice to see you here."

"Ah," you respond. And you get it; it has been great to be around here and see him, Jimin, and Hyejin regularly. 

"But Yoongi will return and demand all your attention—" Jeongguk practically snarls, and you tut your tongue at him, staring incredulously as he balks at the interruption. 

"Yoongi does not demand anything from me," you say, standing up straight now that there is some space between the two of you. You feel defensive, but you can understand where Jeongguk is coming from; you really have not had any independence since moving into the mansion, but part of that is not having any direction or much desire to venture out, finding comfort and safety behind the familiarity of those walls. "Honestly, I have been loving it here. It's nice to leave the house for no occasion and see other people. I consider Hyejin and Jimin friends, and it has been so great having friends again. I don't want to suddenly stop seeing them. Or you."

"Won't you have your hands full with both of your boyfriends?" Jeongguk teases, and you are glad to see his mood has at least somewhat lightened; his smile has returned, even if his gaze remains sad. 

"Oh they definitely know how to keep my hands full," you respond with a wink, watching as Jeongguk's eyes and mouth widen comically. "But it is also nice having some space. Although I hate how all of this came about, I think taking a step back and allowing myself to really miss them and think about the many facets of our relationship has been important. I needed it."

"So I might actually see you from time to time?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close once more, seeming hopeful. It still amuses you when Jeongguk is all soft edges after so much time spent bickering with one another. 

This time, you step in close and rub your palms over his chest, making sure to drag your hands over his pierced nipples, smiling when he shivers beneath your touch. 

"We still have to finish what we started in Hong Kong," you say, voice dropped low and intentionally sultry. "I just haven't wanted to do anything without the others present…we haven't really discussed that, and I would feel too guilty leaving them out."

"I understand," Jeongguk responds, leaning into your touch and surprising you with a very soft, very chaste kiss on the lips before he mutters, "Taehyung will fucking kill me if we do anything without him."

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you drop your hands while taking a step back. Even after such a tiny taste, the urge to kiss Jeongguk is too great to stay in such close proximity. 

"We're going to have an entire audience, huh?" you ask, feeling more turned on by the prospect than shy.

Jeongguk chuckles and says, "Sounds like we will."

It almost feels surreal to discuss the topic of you and Jeongguk having sex so openly. Although you have had enough whiskey to give you a steady buzz, you are still clear-headed enough to spiral just a little over the thought of his body, and having it all to yourself. That is, unless the others want to play, as well; you really have no idea what to expect, and you are not certain you would deny them if they wanted to.

As you search for a way to end this conversation and return to the main bar before someone begins to notice the two of you are missing, Jimin comes barging in with his brows knit. Although you have done nothing wrong, there is a split moment of panic over how this may look, with the two of you in Jimin's office alone. 

But he simply glances between you and Jeongguk, huffs out a sigh, and says, "Oh, thank god. I was hoping to find you two in here."

"What's up?" Jeongguk asks, and you straighten out, worried that something may be wrong. 

"One of the regulars came in piss drunk and started harassing Hyejin. He groped her ass and when she slapped him, he got in her face. Security was able to intervene, but I need you to take him out back and fuck him up. Let him know shit like that doesn't fly at Boss Min's lovely establishment." 

Anger spikes heavily in your chest, and when Jimin turns to you and adds, "Dove, if you don't mind, I think she could use a friend," you nod, determined to do whatever it takes to make Hyejin feel safe. 

"On it," you say, walking past the men, down the short hallway, and out into the bar. 

Loud R&B music with a quick, enticing trap beat plays, and you stomp in your overpriced patent leather chelsea boots to the beat, storming into the main bar room like you own the joint and scanning the room for your girl. 

Standing at the main bar with her arms pulled tightly over her chest, is Hyejin surrounded by dancers. As soon as you approach, a girl who goes by Lily backs up and opens her arm wide to welcome you into the space. Hyejin is shaking when you drape your arm around her, hugging it loosely across her chest.

"Hey, beautiful," you say, and she turns and melts into you, throwing her arms over your shoulders and letting out a deep sigh. "Want to go out back and have a smoke?"

Hyejin hugs you tight and shakes her head, and you rub your hands over her back, waiting for her response. The dancers begin trickling out, having to get ready to perform, leaving pats on your and Hyejin's backs and soft words of support and encouragement. Once there is more space for her to breathe, Hyejin stands up straight and lets out another deep breath.

She is not crying, though her eyes are red, and when she looks at you with a frown, you gently place your hands at her temples and thumb at the smudged mascara under her eyes before muttering, "Perfect," with a grin. 

"I hate men," Hyejin says with a fake snarl, and you roll your eyes and nod dramatically, making her giggle. 

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask, and Hyejin shakes her head and says, "No. I want to dance."

Sitting on the bar is a half-empty pint of something bright blue, and Hyejin chugs it back, then leaves the empty glass behind and takes your hand, dragging you to one of the dance cages. The floor of the cage is raised about three feet from the ground and is a glowing octagon of rainbow color. Hyejin, wearing only a black satin bodysuit with lace trim and black stiletto heels, walks around to the back of the cage, closest to the nearby wall, and opens a door that blends in with the bars, then she takes a step up and hoists herself onto the platform. 

You follow behind and step up and into the cage, moving to the other side of the space to allow Hyejin to close the door. Although you are no stranger to dancing in sight of others, being in an elevated cage has your nerves spiked, and you wish you had taken a shot or three at the bar before agreeing to follow her. 

Hyejin wastes no time closing in on you with her fists around bars on either side of your head, and she holds on as she drops her hips low and swishes back up, all the while keeping her eyes on you. You sway to the beat with slower movements than the ones you watch Hyejin make, feeling entranced by her beauty and struggling to actually move the way she does. 

"Are you shy?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and you chuckle, letting go of some of your anxiety while you nod and mutter, "A little."

Hyejin spins with her arms still lifted, and wraps them over your shoulders, then dips down again, rubbing her ass against your thighs before standing up straight. You realize too late that you are frozen in place with your arms somewhat bent, like a Barbie doll, and Hyejin turns and immediately starts to laugh, bending and flinging her hair in front of her face. 

"I'm not apologizing for who I am," you whine as you join her in laughing, feeling embarrassed by your inability to act like a normal person around her. 

"I would never dream of asking you to," Hyejin says as she leans back against the bars across from you, swaying her hips with an amused grin. "But it is very cute how flustered you get."

You roll your eyes and smile, glad to at least be considered cute. Flirting and being flirted with is hardly an issue, and you would probably relax more around her if things were not so uncertain at the moment, in your love life. You are sure Yoongi and Namjoon would not mind, but it is a conversation you would like to have before you allow yourself to get carried away. 

Or, perhaps, there is nothing to allow. Probably, there is no way in which things could get carried away, but you are once again spiraling because Jeongguk has gotten under your skin. With a deep inhale, you remind yourself that Hyejin is likely just being friendly and that you are allowed to relax and have fun with her. 

So have fun, you do. The song changes to something with more of a club beat, and Hyejin begins to pump her hands in front of her chest while shaking her ass in overexaggerated movements, gyrating in a chaotic circle. With your hands pulled over your head, you begin doing some wiggle-shake move creating waves all the way down to your legs, laughing as Hyejin throws her hands over her head in an attempt to do the same. 

"What do you call this one?" She shouts over the music, and you shake your head and say, "I don't know! The overcooked noodle?" 

Hyejin practically throws her body against yours with laughter, and you trip backward, catching yourself with a hand on one of the bars to lessen your collision. There are definitely patrons behind you who have a view of whatever it is the two of you are doing, and you try not to feel too embarrassed. 

"Yah," Jeongguk calls, making you attempt to turn around, trapped in place by a hysterical Hyejin. He rounds the platform enough to come into view and grabs onto two of the bars as he teasingly says, "You girls are gonna scare away the customers."

You raise one hand toward him as if threatening to strike him, shouting, "Oh, shut u—" but the word dies as soon as your eyes fall to Jeongguk's knuckles, which are scraped and bloodied. 

"Jeongguk, what the fuck?" you ask, reaching for the nearest hand, which he slides away. 

Hyejin stands alert, then squats to be at eye-level with Jeongguk, and you fully turn, checking to make sure he has no other cuts or bruises, glad that he seems otherwise perfectly fine. 

"Relax," Jeongguk grumbles, tonguing the inside of his mouth while he cracks the knuckles of one fist against his palm, then switches to the other side. "This is nothing; scuff marks. That guy didn't land a single punch before he was lights out."

You sigh but accept that there is nothing you would be able to do to convince Jeongguk not to fuck someone up. It is, after all, something he has likely been trained to do and is celebrated for within the ranks of the family. Still, you hate to see his pretty hands bloodied. 

"Well, you know I don't condone violence," Hyejin says, reaching her hands between two bars, smiling when Jeongguk steps closer and allows her to grab onto his wrists. "But I really appreciate you sticking up for me."

"Of course," Jeongguk grumbles, smiling the soft smile that he does when he is attempting to hide the sweetness that festers inside him, threatening to burst. Cute. 

With a sigh, Hyejin lifts the wrist that Jeongguk wears his watch on, yanking it close while tilting her head to get a look. "I should go tend to the girls," she grumbles, releasing Jeongguk and standing to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You follow Hyejin's movements, watching which bars are part of the door, nervous that they blend in well enough and that you could be trapped in this cage for the rest of eternity, then you turn back to Jeongguk, who has two hands on two bars, and is staring up at you. 

"So," he says, stretching himself tall to speak to you, arching his back and tipping his chin upward. "I was wondering…"

Since you are already in the cage, and Jeongguk had already been a menace to your health and well-being earlier, you decide to take a page out of Hyejin's book and swish your body in an inviting wave as you squat, dragging your hands down the bars but keeping them lifted above your head. 

Jeongguk visibly swallows, losing what he was just in the process of saying, and you watch as his eyes trail to where your short skirt hugs your thighs, undoubtedly giving him a view of the black panties you wear underneath. And although you do not mind letting Jeongguk sneak a peek, you are glad that the lights are fairly dim in the club.

"What was that?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving a look that feigns innocence. 

The expression on Jeongguk's face flashes comically from needy to pained to frustrated, and he huffs out a sigh, shaking his head as if trying to rattle his thoughts free.

 "What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me, is that we should have dinner soon."

Jeongguk's offer takes a moment to compute, and you stare at him, heavy-blinking, trying to determine whether he is asking you on a date, or if we means more than just the two of you. 

"We, as in…"

"You, me, and our men."

"Ah," you respond; that makes sense. "Yeah, we should. That would be fun."

Jeongguk nods, letting his gaze fall once more to your legs before drifting slowly back to your face. "I'll talk to Taehyungah. Perhaps he can host, and I'll cook."

With an incredulous raise of your brow you ask, "Oh, you cook?" in a mocking tone of sheer disbelief. 

Jeongguk reaches up and holds his hands over yours, gripping firmly while he leans in, head between the bars and close. From here, you smell his cologne; from here you resist the urge to lean in close and kiss him. 

"I happen to be an excellent cook, dollface."

"Is that so?" you ask, voice much less confident than a moment ago.

"That is so," Jeongguk says, then he leans in somehow even closer, making your head spin. "So, it's a date?"

"Yeah," you respond, feeling your heart go wild behind your ribs. "It's a date."

What you did to me made me see the world differently Mis lágrimas se secan solos, solos Pues mírame a los ojos Dime si ves el vacío que deja amor perdido Yo no duermo hasta que mis sueño' están cumplidos Sé que estoy perdiendo, pero el juеgo no ha concluido

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ahhhh!!! how are we feeling??? i presonally really love this chapter. the next one containing the promised smut™ is coming very, very soon!!!! i promise. i was sad to leave Yoongi out of this chapter, and it was not my intention to have a full chapter without him, but it made sense to split the mega chapter this way, and it felt wrong to rush him back without mc taking time to sort her thoughts out and attempt to gain some independence.

thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go 'round, and likes are nice too!!!

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Harrow's Holiday Cheer Event 🎁

hello, friends! 🥳 i am excited to announce that i have reached 2k followers!!!

since my semester is winding down to an end and i have been having some troubles with writing lately, i thought that doing a little excerpt/drabble event might be a fun way to get the creative juices flowing, so here is what i have in mind...please read all the rules before joining in on the fun!

Rules & Guidelines:

there are two levels of participation to this event:

anons & blank profiles can only get sfw excerpts

folks with age or age range listed clearly on their profile can get nsfw excerpts & drabbles

this means you can either have an exact birthday ("21") listed or you can have a range/year that you are born in ("80s baby" "in my 30s" "94 liner" etc.) this is because i do not give smut to minors, nor do i encourage it, and i need to be able to see that you are at least 18+. this also has to be clearly listed in the open; i am not going to dig thru 'about me' and 'faq' posts/pages to find anyone's age.

anyone under 18 with their age listed will be blocked because i do not want minors interacting with me at all.

how to participate:

pick a prompt from this smut list

pick a character of mine or let me choose by telling me whether you want any member x member or any member x reader

send me a little dm with your choices

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more guidelines & disclaimer:

all of my past characters are acceptable, unless it is for a fic that i have orphaned. a short list of orphaned fics can be found at the bottom of my master list.

please only submit once! if the event is slow, i may call for more people to join, and at that point you can submit another.

i reserve the right to deny any request, or to only fulfill as many as i have time for. should i receive more than i can fulfill during this event, i will save them in my inbox for future events!

depending on how inspired i am by each request, i may write just a couple lines of dialogue or i may write a full on drabble.

depending on how many requests i receive, i may continue to write these into the new year. i have no end date planned, just vibes, so i will make an announcement in the future when things begin to wind down!

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