Yoongi Mafia - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

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?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ 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

🎵 visit the playlist

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

masterlist: greedy | myg x reader

being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

Chapter One: You Like Milkshakes?

Chapter Two: Church Lady Tights

Chapter Three: Toothpaste & Coffee

Chapter Four: Every Sin In The Book

Chapter Five: Do We Look Like Recruiters To You?

Chapter Six: The Last Exit Sign

Epilogue: Bases Loaded

part one: guarded | jhs x reader

part two: guilty | knj x reader

Series snippet!

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf and you must be protected. But the man who’s assigned as your personal bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut, ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD

masterlist

"Are you dangerous, Min Yoongi?"

"It's a little late to ask that."

this is my first fic! I’ve been working on this for a long ass time but only recently got the guts to start posting! This is heavily inspired by the bodyguard from the K-drama The King: Eternal Monarch. IYKYK!

GIF by casdecns

SHEEEEEEESH

Anyway. This is a longwinded story but I’m super proud of it even though it’s not all written out yet lmao. I hope you like it and I will always accept feedback and constructive criticism!

Masterlist

Series snippet!

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. You must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut, ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD

upload date: pending

"Are you dangerous, Min Yoongi?"

"It's a little late to ask that."

Not In the Cards Masterlist

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooow burn

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. You must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut (eventually), ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD

Snippet - september 7, 2024

Teaser 1 - september 9, 2024 20:35EST

Prologue - september 17, 2024 00:20EST

Part 1- october 2, 2024 00:00EST

Reminīscēns: strangers - pending

Not In the Cards teaser!

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l

summary: yoongi realizes something about you, about himself, and runs. It's what he does best afterall.

warnings: implications of sex, angst, trauma, yoongi has a dark past. i hope y'all will stick around to find out, this is a long winded story i'm sorry! also reader uses a pseudonym as it’s relative to the plot.

minors dni

wc: 1k

teaser I part i. I part ii. I

When he wakes up next to you, it’s still dark out and you’re still fast asleep. Your face is just a silhouette to him, but he knows you’re beautiful, even in slumber. His heart jumps when he remembers you’re in his hoodie and he doesn’t think too much about how much he likes that. 

How is it possible to like someone he just met this much? He hands it off to the (great fucking) sex he just had. 

He does his best not to disturb you as he maneuvers out of bed and into the bathroom, needing to wash off remnants of sticky sex and sweat now that he’s cognizant. He waits until he’s started the shower to turn the lights on, ignoring his reflection as he takes off his favorite silver chain and places it on the shelf above the toilet to avoid any drains, dog tags swinging on his chest when he steps into the tub.

You're still sleeping when he returns so he quietly gets dressed, trying not to hate putting back on the clothes he wore yesterday now that's he's freshly showered but it can't be helped. A little of the sunrise has made the room a low mix of blue and grey so he can see you better as he goes to the nightstand to put on his watch. He looks over at you and smiles to himself when he hears you snoring softly. You shift on your stomach, facing away from him and just as he turns to leave the room for a morning cigarette, an etching on the back of your neck catches his attention. He has yet to put in his contacts and it's still not bright enough to see well so he slowly sits on the edge of the bed to have a better look, curiosity piqued. It has the shape of some kind of bird or plane, something with wings so he leans a little closer, pressing a fist on the mattress to hold himself up. He expects the wings to be that of an angel, a nod to your name, but when he finally sees what it is, albeit a bit blurry, his heart stops and drops to his stomach.

It is indeed a small bird but just the skeleton of one. A sparrow. And it's drawn as if it were falling from the sky. To anyone else, it's meaning is ambiguous, but to him, to others like him, it's the symbol of enormous power, made by blood, money and greed. He would know - he has a tattoo that speaks to the gang he got caught up in as a teenager that branded him to force his loyalty. A gang that could be shredded and not missed by the organization that owns the symbol tatted on your neck.

Shit. Being who he is, relying solely on intuition and reading between the lines, he had a gut feeling that you may not be as innocent as you seem. To the average bystander, maybe. But not to him. The swallow’s skeleton on your neck confirms it.

And for the first time in a long time, he's terrified.

Before seeing that, he'd already considered leaving before you wake up, doubting what good would come out of him staying. You don't need someone marred and sinful like him in your life.

But now if you find out about the coiled cobra on the back of his left shoulder, one of the many reasons he didn't take his shirt off or keep the lights on once you both fell into bed, he’ll be screwed for a whole different reason.

So he makes the decision that there's nothing for him to do but leave you in the dust and never look back, tacking this night onto the murky cloud of his many mistakes. Even though it makes his heart ache. All the more reason to coat it in tar, making it impenetrable to him and anyone else. In the weeks to come, he'll force it to forget you.

But it will only make him colder and bitter. Forlorn. He fucking deserves that.

He grabs his phone and his keys he left on the couch and hauls ass to the door and down to the lobby so you don't wake in time to see him disappear without a trace. But in the rush, he forgets the one thing most precious to him that he took off before he showered. It isn't until he's zipping away on his motorcycle towards the ferry, blaming the cold and whipping wind for the tears piercing the corners of his eyes, that he realizes and curses himself. The one thing he was supposed to never lose, to always take care of, he forgot. His mother was right - if his grandfather was still around he’d be so disappointed. For the rest of the way home, his mother’s words ring in his ears - he’s a fuck up who’s lost all chances to redeem himself. No one will want him. So going forth, that's what he carries with him every day when you come up in his thoughts, no matter how hard he tries to keep you out.

It's better this way. He did you a favor.

..............................................................................................................................

When you wake up alone, it’s not the hangover that makes you feel nauseous.

You rush to the convenience store for a morning after pill, because you’ll be damned if you get knocked up, especially not by someone who doesn’t have the fucking decency to leave a note, much less a phone number, after a night like that.

Fuck him. Fuck him big time for being just like everyone else. You know what your father and brothers would say - that's what you get for letting your guard down. Naive and weak-minded people only get themselves hurt. So just like you have done countless times, you pick up the pieces of your heart that were stomped and crushed and left for dead, and bury them in the recesses of your mind, keeping all of your pain to yourself. Pain is weakness, especially the kind you can’t see on your skin, and weakness is forbidden in the blood you share with your family. Maybe now the lesson will stick. But for the years to come, his eyes, his touch, his voice will haunt you in your dreams and your nightmares. You hope to all hell you never see him again.

If you do, he better watch his fucking back.

.

.

.

part i. coming soon!!! masterlist

thank you for reading! this is all very nerve wracking to me bc i'm an anxious girl and a perfectionist when it comes to writing and i kind of pulled this scene outta my ass so i could get a teaser out there so i'm not 100% confident about it.

but let me know what you think here or leave a comment if you want.

xxx - claret

p.s. this is what i imagine reader's tattoo looks like

p.p.s. does anyone know how to make the line breaks, like how they’re uploaded as photos? I’ve tried cropping a horizontal photo to be really thin but it doesn’t let me and then i just have a line in the middle of a white block and it looks wack and I don’t want to break up scenes with a bunch of periods lol.

thanks k bye :)

Not In the Cards sneak peek!

So instead of part 1, i’m posting a prologue tomorrow (9/16) at 23:59EST that features Jin and his background. Here’s a brief summary:

A tragic love affair sets the stage and unfolds the story yet to come.

warnings: mafia, angst!!!!!, alcohol, smoking, age gap, dirty cop, smut (not explicit), family drama, trauma, mention of su!c!dal thoughts, abuse

Masterlist

Taglist:

@polarnightmyg @rinkud

If you would like to be tagged in the next update, click here!

Not In the Cards Prologue

pairing: dirty cop!hoseok x mob boss!seokjin (rest of the story will feature bodyguard!yoongi x CEO!fem reader)

genre: mafia

summary: a tragic love affair sets the stage and unfolds the story yet to come.

warnings: angst!!!!!, hurt/comfort, smut (not explicit), family drama, troubled childhoods, parental loss, trauma, su!c!dal thoughts, mentions of violence and murder (blood/guns), panic attacks, drug addiction/rehab, everyone is going through it, alcohol, weed smoking, age gap, borderline stockholm syndrome (whoops!)

this is a loaded chapter, so i apologize ahead of time if it comes out like an info dump lol

also reminder, Angel is reader's pseudonym

minors pls dni, nsfw

wc: 6.7k 😀

teaser l prologue l part i. I reminīscēns: strangers l part ii. I

“Hey, agent Jung, are you busy?”

Hoseok peers up from his laptop to the rookie poking his head into his office.

“What’s up?” Taking it as permission to enter, the rookie looks behind him at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door, fidgeting nervously with a manila folder in his hand.

“Um, I have something,” he murmurs quietly, and Hoseok’s fingers freeze above the keyboard. Glancing back up, the rookie stares at the ground as he stays in place in front of the door. Hoseok sighs and sits back in his chair, stretching his hands cramped from hours of typing up reports. This can’t be good.

"Don’t just stand there, bring it over."

“Right,” the rookie squeaks, rapidly shuffling forward and holding out the folder with a slight bow. Hoseok winces at the intimidation the rookie clearly feels from him and he lowkey hates how he’s grown a reputation of being a hard ass.

Nevertheless, he accepts the folder and silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is but once he opens it and sees the face of the man already tattooed in his mind, he has to hold back a series of curses. His jaw ticks as he leans forward to flip over the many sheets of paper holding information to the case of the alleged son of the Sparrow don, filled with leads and scrappy evidence gathered over years of investigations that he once was a part of as a rookie himself.

“What are you showing me?” He grumbles, thinking he would be looking at some new report of a half-assed lead but there's nothing in here that he hasn't already seen and spent sleepless nights practically memorizing.

The rookie clears his throat and points to the second half of the folder, quickly glancing over his shoulder as if someone had suddenly appeared behind him.

“I found a copy of the warrant the CID is drafting up.”

Hoseok is glad for the countless hours he's spent training himself to pass polygraph tests, otherwise his heart would be racing out of his chest and there would be nothing but panic written all over his face. Criminal Investigative Division, the office he climbed himself out of to serve in the CIA instead, getting away from domestic law enforcement to try and keep a low profile.

The rookie, a seriously intelligent and experienced cyber tech, uses his employment to hack into the intelligence agency databases in order to keep Hoseok informed about the CID's investigation into the Sparrow organization that holds the northern cities by the throats, poisoning the streets with internationally traded drugs, military-grade weapons, and counterfeit goods, all for lower-hierarchy syndicates to play with in the black market and make a buck for themselves. The CID has been going after the don, Kim Dongsoo, for years, trying to take him down for hundreds of pages of blue and white-collar crimes, but thanks to generational power and sickeningly innumerous wealth, the pockets of politicians, cops, judges, and lawmakers have been lined by the don and it's hard to pin down the don with any kind of conviction, since most of the evidence would have to be illegally obtained and therefore inadmissible in court. And now that the mob boss suddenly passed away, the CID turned their attention to his successor, Kim Seokjin, the face staring up at him from the manila.

Hoseok suddenly stands up, gripping the folder in a way that crinkles the papers. He leans forward and doesn't miss the way the rookie gulps.

"Are you stupid? Bringing this here to my office when anyone could snatch this right out of your hand to have a look? Do you want to screw yourself over?" The rookie looks like he's shaking in his boots in response to Hoseok's menacing tone and piercing glare. Hoseok misses the time when he used to be the fun, goofy agent around the office.

(He blames it on the man who trained the sunny disposition out of him ever since he'd been forced to go down this dirty rotten path. Min, the one who has a scar over his eye and shoots looks that could kill, who Hoseok had to learn to not be scared of. Now, they’re practically best buds; if there can even be such a friendship in this line of work. Sometimes the only fun Hoseok has is holding over Min's head the fact that he could arrest him at any point and lock him up for life. In return, Min reminds him how he could snipe him between the eyes and in the balls from two blocks away. But Hoseok knows the man is capable of far worse things like round-housing him until he folds up like a pretzel, neatly slitting his throat to bury him in scattered locations without a trace of DNA, and even running him off the road going 193 kph, leaving without a scratch on his car or a burn on his tires. Not that he could actually do anything since Hoseok has been fucking the man they both call boss who fills their bank accounts. But he'll never find out that Hoseok gets a few more zeroes tacked on every month thanks to that same man. Well, play one game of poker and Min could drain him of every last penny in the blink of an eye. Hoseok is shit at poker.)

"Sir, everyone's gone for the day," the rookie stutters and Hoseok whips his attention out of his daze to the window, finding it is very dark outside, and then takes notice of the time on his laptop, indicating how fast the day had gotten away from him. He sharply exhales and drops the folder on the desk, sitting down with a plop to rub his hands over his face as exhaustion settles heavily in his bones.

"Next time, find me outside the building, or I'll have your job. Understand?"

The rookie rapidly nods, significantly paler, and Hoseok dismisses him with a wave of his hand and not a single word. Not even bothering to tell him that his offshore bank account will receive an exuberant reimbursement for his work because the rookie already knows that, and it's the only reason that he comes back to deal with Hoseok’s moody ass. He waits until his mole shuffles out and the door clicks shut to collapse in his chair, mind starting to race as he thinks of his next move.

One thing is for certain. This is his excuse to see Kim Seokjin.

Shutting off his laptop and gathering all his files into his briefcase because he's not one to stop working when the day is done, he quickly mulls over the contents of the warrant, looking for any reason the judge would have not to sign it, and drops it in the shredder with a vengeance when he finds none. He shreds the rest of the file and carries out the scraps to burn in the fireplace back home.

Once he pulls into his garage, he routinely checks his surroundings as he presses the button to lower the door, and when he's safely locked alone inside, he finds the panel he installed under the steering wheel to fish around for the early-2010s android burner that has only one contact, listed under 'astronaut.'

cabin this weekend? sent 21:22

Hours later when he's in bed, attempting to sleep before 4am, he puts the battery back in the phone and checks that he received a message just thirty minutes ago. For the first time all day, maybe even all week, he feels lighter.

see u <3 received 2:36

He takes out the battery once more and puts the phone under his pillow. He lays his head down and tries to sleep but his anxious, racing mind has him slipping out of bed and packing for the overnight road trip, suitcase full of cozy sweaters and joggers. He won't be leaving until well into the evening, but he wants to be ready. He's looking forward to the 2-hour drive, but not the earful he'll be getting from his mother about canceling family plans at the last minute with vague lies about working overtime on a case. That's something he's had to get used to doing, lying to his family and friends. But he's worked through that, knowing there's no way they'll ever be able to understand all the risks he's been taking all these years. Back then, when he was a different, more honest person, he wouldn't have understood either. Now, with the access he has to multiple bank accounts which hold numbers that could support him and his family, for at least nine generations to come, he tells himself it's not all for nothing. Even though he's not doing it for the money. No, that's just a bonus. It's for the man he's going to drive up a mountain to see. A man who appears in the forefront of his mind any time he gets a second to close his eyes. A man he'd die for, who he hopes would do the same for him.

That's what this is all for.

*******

Around eight that night, at a stoplight, Hoseok whips out his burner and types up a quick message to 'astronaut' that he's almost there. He smiles when he receives a grainy, irrelevant cat meme in response and drops the phone in the console as soon as the light turns green.

Driving up the steep hills, he soaks in the sight of blankets of snow that line the sides of the road and the trees. He knows this could be the last time he'll take this route that makes him look forward to the cozy fireplace waiting for him at the cabin, started by the man who makes his heart just as warm. A string tightens there when he worries it won't be long until he'll be forced to douse it.

The road is long and dark so his mind starts to wander, thinking back to how he ended up here.

He had just turned 25 when he was assigned to infiltrate the mob, acting as a hijacker of trucks and ships coming in and out of the harbor. He was sure it was a hazing thing, getting the ambitious rookie into a semi-dangerous situation to see if he had what it takes. He found out a bit too late that he should've been smarter. He slipped up and his one mistake landed him in a windowless van with zip ties around his wrists and a sack over his head that only came off once he was thrown onto a cold, concrete floor. After he adjusted his vision to the harsh bright lights, his breath was completely stolen from him when he realized he was kneeling before a man whose face belonged in a museum. He barely registered he was in a dungeon of sorts, or the suited guards packed with illegal weapons surrounding him, too busy taking in the sight of the glory that was Kim Seokjin. Behind him was a younger, doe-eyed boy who was practically the spitting image of the taller, more muscular man, and Hoseok assumed this to be his brother, what with the way he stared at him as if learning every move he made so he could one day be like him. And that was confirmed when Seokjin let him throw the first few punishing punches and kicks to let Hoseok know just what he'd gotten himself into.

He held it together when he was interrogated and forced to beg for his life, seeing as he'd been made as the pig cop he was, and just as he thought he'd never see the light of day again, he and everyone around him were surprised that Jin did not decide to spill his blood right there on the stained floor, but gave him the option to die or become an informant, a mole, a dirty cop for his benefit instead. And of course he chose the option to live, even if it meant he would spend the rest of his life in paranoia, anxiety, and fear. At least he'd be making more money than he could ever imagine.

Since he had been found out, he came up with a different story to tell his boss that didn't include being caught by the mob's successor, which ended with him being taken off of the case and sent into witness protection until further notice. And that landed him on another continent in a secluded location, where no one, not even his mother, knew he was there. So imagine his surprise when three authoritative knocks pounded on his door one day and there stood none other than Kim Seokjin. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Not when he knew that the don's son had the resources to find him. Hell, Hoseok probably had colleagues who were puppeteered by him and Jin was there to add him to more lines of strings.

And to do this, Jin set him up with Namjoon, an esteemed lawyer who doubled as a computer science engineer, producing the Sparrow’s digital landscape to increase their market using cryptocurrencies. Namjoon trained and tutored Jungkook, Jin's younger brother who once broke Hoseok's nose, since Jin complained he was too old for all that technology, but really it was a reason to keep Jungkook off the streets for the time being. He worked with Namjoon to keep out traces of evidence in the CIA system that could lead back to Jin and the don, using his police access to wipe cameras, intimidate witnesses, and bribe judges and criminal lawyers. After a year, Jin introduced him to the man who called himself Min Agust, and they worked together to scope out other moles in the syndicate, the ones who worked against them, whether they were soldiers or associates, allies or rivals, and paid close attention to the guards employed to Jin's security team, and eventually his little brother's. He became the bad guy and even though the guilt and regret has taken years off his life, he doesn't care. Because he's doing all of this to protect Jin.

Hoseok learned that Jin was eight years his senior, but that didn't stop him from pining after him. He likes to think that it wasn’t some kind of Stockholm syndrome because Jin technically gave him an option to work for him or not (fucked up as it was) and employed him with a salary he'd never be able to spend in one lifetime. He could've killed him, but didn't. Instead, he arranged private, secret meetings that not even his personal guard knew about, under the guise for Hoseok to provide updates but more often than not, they would end up drinking and smoking and sharing stories and parts of themselves with each other. Jin does have a charm and a sense of humor, to the point that sometimes Hoseok forgets the man is who he is, responsible for the majority of the crime and corruption in the city and surrounding districts. Maybe it was all an act, a ploy, to get Hoseok trapped. And if it was, it fucking worked. Overtime, he fell. And fell hard.

Hoseok knew how dangerous Jin was but it didn't stop him from kissing him one night when it was late and they were silly and delirious from being sleep-deprived, because the spark had been there all along. Hoseok believes that's what had saved him in the first place. Jin took him to bed and fucked him until he saw stars.

Afterwards Jin dragged him onto the balcony where they smoked a joint together and for hours Jin pointed out constellations and planets littering the sky that they could see clearly from the cabin he's driving to now. Hoseok remembers every star Jin named, every fact about every planet and galaxy Jin gushed about, every dream Jin had of being an astronaut ever since he was a kid. He thought that because of how good he was at being lonely, he would do so well up in space. Hoseok wondered if Jin felt lonely when they were together, because he certainly didn't. Hoseok kissed him anytime he felt Jin needed a reminder - that he was there and wouldn't go anywhere unless Jin wanted him to. Down the road, Jin would tell him how his smile reminded him of the sun and make Hoseok's heart burst, because maybe there was still some good left in him after all, if someone like Jin could see it. And that was the beginning of the end.

He pulls into the snowy driveway of the cabin almost at the top of the mountain, edges of the roof lined in soft-yellow lights, smoke billowing out of the two chimneys, all signs of life hidden by thick forests of tall evergreen trees, and notices a silhouette in the window holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate, soon disappearing with a flutter of the sheer curtain once he puts the car in park. The door swings open and he chuckles when he hears his nickname "Sunny!" shouted through the windshield as he collects his things and a bag of takeout before stepping out of the car.

Strong, warm arms wait for him on the porch stairs and he wraps his free arm around the waist of the man who in another universe could be the love of his life. The embrace lasts for a little more than thirty seconds before he's tugged inside of the gloriously toasty cabin and isn't given the chance to release his lungs of cold air as his breath is stolen by a heated kiss. Jin shoves him against the door and his scarf is hastily tugged off, coat unzipped, and takeout carelessly dropped on the floor.

"Happy holidays, Sunny," Jin whispers in a warm breath of chocolate.

"You too, Jinnie," Hoseok whispers back, shrugging off his coat and tearing off his hat just as plush lips press again on his mouth.

He lets himself be manhandled towards creaky wooden stairs, mouths and hands never detaching from their touch-starved bodies. They pass the kitchen and Hoseok breathes in the festive smells wafting from the oven.

"You've been baking?"

"You know it," Jin mumbles, working the shirt out of Hoseok's jeans. "You don't mind waiting until later to eat, right?" Hoseok shakes his head and kisses him with a hum before Jin takes his hand and leads him upstairs, laughing when Jin clumsily trips over the steps or accidentally slams Hoseok into the railing.

It's snowing outside the wall-to-ceiling glass windows but neither of them pay attention as Hoseok, again, lets himself be tossed back onto the ridiculously soft bed and mounted by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He lets Jin fuck him into submission, to the point that it hurts, giving him full control of his body like he belongs to him. Because he does. As the mattress rocks, headboard thumping against the wall, he stares up at Jin through his swinging bangs, noticing the background shadow of falling snow cast on the ceiling above his head, but he can only focus on the fire and fury that blacken Jin's eyes when they're together like this and Hoseok understands why he gets this way sometimes, especially when it's been so long.

But he quickly takes the reins before Jin can get carried away, flipping him onto his stomach to take him from behind, forcing Jin to let go of his resolve, of his need to be in control because Hoseok knows how exhausting it is to be in charge all of the time. Especially of a bunch of goddamn criminals. His hand that presses on the back of Jin's neck doesn't just do the job of keeping his face planted in the bedding, but covers the skeletal sparrow branded just below his hairline (with four rings circled around it's bony ribcage, marking Jin as the fourth blood successor) because sometimes it makes him nauseous to see it, to be reminded of who they really are, outside of this safe haven. As soon as they step foot back home, they'll have to pretend like they don't even know each other, where Hoseok will go back to being a national security agent and Jin to the most powerful criminal in the city, maybe even the country. A criminal from the very empire Hoseok was tasked as a rookie to infiltrate and build a case against, but eventually turned out to become a dirty cop, working to keep the prettiest and darkest eyes he's ever looked into out of prison because he's stupid and fell in love.

Even though both of them have never admitted it to each other, after all this time, it's there.

It's there in the way that neither of them have touched anyone else ever since they first started this, despite the months that have passed between times spent in secret. In the way they think about each other every day, when Jin sends him corny dad jokes and outdated memes that brighten Hoseok's week whenever he gets the chance to check his second phone. And in the way Hoseok drives all the way up a fucking mountain on a weekend he should be with his family, hours away from home, where Jin bakes and has hot chocolate waiting for him on the counter that has since turned cold and forgotten. And they’ll be in bed for hours, so the cookies and takeout will have gone to waste too. Oh, well. Hoseok would take Jin being under him, on him, inside him over baked goods and Jin's favorite noodles any day.

After the room has become blissfully hot and steamy with passion, the two men slip into a deep sleep that they both desperately need, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if neither of them have any plans to let go. However many hours later, Hoseok stirs to his favorite pair of biceps pulling him into his favorite broad chest, lips pressing against his temple. And as they lay there in silence, Hoseok begins to feel the air change with something that settles anxiety in his gut and even somehow lowers the temperature in the room. He pushes himself further against Jin in hopes to preserve that warmth that only exists between the two of them.

Jin turns on his back and pulls Hoseok onto his chest, turning his head to stare out of the window at the cascading snow blinding the horizon and Hoseok listens to the heartbeat thundering beneath his head.

"Y'know," Jin's gentle voice disturbs the solitude and Hoseok tries to blink himself awake. "It’s just a theory , but in the right kind of spacecraft, an astronaut could get almost as close as four million miles to the sun." "Really?" Hoseok asks, eyes drooping with a brain too tired to wonder why Jin chose now to bring up one of his space-obsessed facts. They haven't looked at the sky yet, not that there would be anything to see except the snow falling. And the sun set hours ago.

"Mm. Any closer and the astronaut would get burned." His eye peeks open at that simplistic conclusion and he huffs a worn out laugh, nuzzling into Jin's chest.

"I think they'd get a little more than burned, hyung." It's quiet for a moment. "Exactly." And Jin sits up suddenly, making Hoseok realize that wasn't just a theory. It was one disguised as a metaphor.

He panics and sits up as the elder whisks himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, dragging a hand down his face when the shower turns on not seconds after the door shuts with a bit more force than necessary. Usually Hoseok would be traipsing off to follow him, but when he hears a heavy thud reverberate through the walls, an echo of Jin's rugged fist slamming into the tile, Hoseok swallows down the anxiety-ridden nausea in his gut and goes downstairs to shower in the second bathroom instead.

Upon returning to the bedroom to change, duffle bag in hand, he finds Jin switching out the soiled sheets and comforter. He goes to help, but he's waved off, and with an ache growing under his ribs, he quietly dresses and does his best not to become overwhelmed from this ominous tension forming between them. When the bed is made, Jin disappears downstairs and a small hill of hope arises when the cabin is suddenly blasted with holiday tunes and the smells of a new savory recipe. This time, Jin does let him help, passes behind him with hands on his waist while Hoseok chops and seasons, hips bumping occasionally as Jin maneuvers around the kitchen to cook up the best meal Hoseok will have had in months. Hoseok knows he's turned up the music extra loud so neither of them will talk. And he pretends he's fine with that.

After dinner, when they clear the table and wash the dishes in quiet tandem, and Jin turns down the music so Hoseok can hear his thoughts again, the older man heads to the window seat across from the kitchen, just under the stairs. He cracks open the window and Hoseok starts to scold him for letting in the cold air from the fucking snow storm outside, but then Jin pulls out a familiar roll of paper and a lighter and Hoseok shuts his mouth. He finishes drying up a dish, puts it away, and goes over to him, mid-step when Jin finally speaks.

"Say what you came here to tell me, Seok," Jin says flatly and Hoseok sighs as he plants himself behind him, hand sitting on Jin's lap while he tries to ignore the frigid air. He presses his frown to Jin's shoulder covered in the softest cashmere.

"You say that like it's the only reason I came here."

"But it's the main reason, right?" Hoseok leans away, frown deepening, and crosses his arms as his back settles against the oak wood wall. He stares at the snow softly falling over the hills, making the night grey instead of pitch black, wishing they could just be enjoying the view and not having this dreaded conversation.

"We only ever meet here when you have news about my case." Hoseok shoots a glare to the back of Jin's head and nudges his foot into his hip. "That's not true." He waits impatiently as the older man finishes up his joint with shoulders that grow more tense as the seconds pass by in silence.

"It's cold, can you hurry up?" Hoseok urges in a terse voice, watching as Jin nods once before taking a final drag and dropping the unfinished joint out of the window, letting the snow put it out. He stopped offering Hoseok weed ever since the office started doing random drug tests. Jin pulls in the frame, sealing out the cold, and settles back against Hoseok's chest, saying nothing when the younger man hesitates to uncross his arms and wrap them around his shoulders.

"They're getting ready to ask a judge to sign the warrant," he inevitably admits, eyes shutting as a tight feeling squeezes his chest when he feels Jin's entire body tense up.

"They're really gonna arrest somebody around the holidays? Who does that?"

Hoseok lets out a small snort, heart rate relaxing as he's reminded that one of the reasons he loves Jin so much is because of his ability to make light of a situation, no matter how serious.

"Tell me I'll at least get until after New Years."

"Maybe towards the end of January."

Jin huffs dramatically, enticing Hoseok to kiss the side of his head.

"I guess that means I won't have to get you a gift for your birthday." Hoseok tries to smile, but it’s tugged down with sadness.

“You know you never have to get me anything." Jin places a hand on his knee, a kiss on his elbow.

“Yeah, I do, Sunny. It gives me an excuse to see you." Past tense. Hoseok's heart sinks and he tangles their legs together.

"And after tonight, who knows if we'll..." Jin's voice tapers off and Hoseok fights the urge to give into tears. He can't be weak. Not for something he's known he can't have.

“What are my charges? Since apparently they’re sticking this time.”

“Drug and weapons trafficking. They can’t get you for racketeering because the evidence is mostly linked to your father.”

Jin stares at his cuticles for a few moments again, nothing but the sound of firewood crackling and snapping on the other side of the room, before he sits up abruptly again, knocking his head into Hoseok's chin.

"Fuck, what am I gonna do?!" Jin blurts, raking hands through his hair and tugging at the roots. Hoseok stays silent because he doesn't know what to tell him.

"Jungkook, he- he's not ready. He just got out of rehab for fucks' sake!"

A frown wrinkles Hoseok's chin.

"And Angel-" Jin continues, gulping down a breath. "She's barely spoken to me since she got engaged to that prick and I know that's the worst thing I've made her do but it wasn't my idea! It was his!"

Hoseok leans forward as he can sense the panic entering Jin's voice, paired with the shaking of his broad shoulders as he loses control of his breathing.

"This was his plan, he was never going to let them get away from all this. He knew the law was gonna come after him, he got too fucking drugged up and it made him sloppy and now-" Jin sniffs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hoseok hangs his head like he's not supposed to know Jin is crying.

"Now I'm taking the fucking fall. And I could give a shit about what happens to me, but Jungkook and Angel?!" Jin twists around and Hoseok is taken aback by the wild, frantic look on his face, eyes tinged pink with raw tears.

"They can't do this, they're not supposed to do this! I was never supposed to let Jungkook take my place, much less get Angel involved!" Tears are streaming down Jin's face as he reaches for Hoseok's sweater, curls his fists in the fabric to pull him forward like he's the only thing he can hang onto.

"And now they both are and it's-" Jin sobs. "It's all my fucking fault!"

There's a pain in Hoseok's chest as Jin collapses and smothers his face against it. And Hoseok lets him cry for however long he needs to, because here, in this space, is the only place safe for Jin to release the hardness that has been driven into his soul by his father since he was a little boy. In his tears, he grieves the childhood he lost when his mother died and left him with a father who forced the youth out of him, forbade him from being anything but stoic, taught him that showing emotions meant he was weak and lacked control.

Yet somehow, Jin had been able to keep a part of himself, however small, that lets him enjoy and appreciate the little things in life, to crack stupid jokes, to have a smile on his face in the right company even if it was a mask.

And Hoseok knows it's because of Jin's siblings. He thinks that without them, Jin wouldn't allow himself to be charming, or silly, or make stupid jokes. He thinks that despite how he was raised, he taught himself to be for his siblings the man he wanted in his father. Especially since he ended up raising them himself from ages four and two when their mother left and he vowed to never let their father do to them what he endured all the way up to a few months ago, to the day he buried an empty casket beneath a headstone engraved with his last name. He was glad that his siblings were made to take on their mother's maiden name, even though his brother had been born as a fallback plan to carry on the Kim legacy if something ever happened, and his sister never existed to their father, both kept in hiding only until they were needed for the family business.

Despite what he was taught, Jin loved them. From the moment he found out about them, he made sure to raise them as if their existence wasn't surrounded by death and greed and crime and sometimes pure evil. Even though all of them grew up without a mother, he wasn't going to let either of them feel abandoned or like no one loved them. Because he was determined to maintain their childhood that had been stolen from him. He was the one who took them away to a park whenever their father yelled at and threatened their mother, just before she left. As a fourteen-year old, he would pack them in the car and drive them far enough away from home, because with the way he was aging, he passed for at least seventeen. When he got back one day, their mother told him to take care of them and after that, he never saw her again. But he kept his promise.

He made them lunches, took Jungkook to school, stayed home with Angel until she was old enough to go to daycare, all while pretending to be the babysitter when he dropped them off so they wouldn’t be mistaken for family. Having different last names helped him feel like he wasn’t completely lying. As soon as he picked them up and brought them home, he always had dinner ready, helped them with crafty projects and homework while he did his own, got them ready for bed, read stories and sang lullabies, and stayed up way too late worrying about how much longer his father would let him do this.

He knew he couldn't always be the best brother, but he'd be damned not to try.

When he finished high school and his father took every spare moment of his free time away to instead spend grinding away the rest of his innocence in preparation to take over for him one day, he made sure his brother and sister were left with the best nannies. And as they grew older, he sent them away to the best boarding schools in order to keep them away from the family business for as long as possible.

In disguise, he went to Jungkook’s baseball games and math tournaments, and Angel’s piano recitals and debates whenever he could, and if he was unable, he sent one of his guards instead to film them undercover.

Sometimes when he hated everything, hated himself, wished he’d never been born, he spent one too many nights driving back and forth across the Han river bridge, wondering if his father would call him a coward for not having the balls to throw himself over. Because every time he stood on the railing and leaned over imagining what it’d be like to drown in water that pretty, he thought of the only two people he ever truly loved. The ones he hid a picture of in his wallet, because he couldn’t take any on his phone, or even leave some around his house that’s way too big and hollow for just one person, as it would put a risk of revealing both of them to his world too soon.

So each and every time, he got down from the railing, went back to his car, and pulled out his third phone to put them on a three way call, doing his best to keep the fact that he almost permanently abandoned them hidden from his voice. He didn’t care if they playfully complained that he interrupted something in their busy, accomplished lives overseas, because he needed to talk to them so they could save him. Time and time again.

But now they have to be saved, and Jin doesn't know if he can. Because he fears that once he’s arrested, they’ll both be put in the worst possible danger and he won’t be around to protect them. He’ll be breaking his promise to their mother. And out of all the sins he's committed, that would be the one thing he could never ask forgiveness for.

So in the midst of his tears and panic, he comes up with a plan to make sure nothing will happen to them in his absence. If anything does, he'd have no problem sending himself straight to the bottom of the river.

They move to the living room for more comfortable seating while Jin goes through his process of formulating plans. Hoseok listens intently, taking mental notes and sharing ideas of how to ensure the safety of Jin's siblings. It involves him, Namjoon, and Min, a plethora of guards and weapons, that would all, without fail, protect Jungkook and Angel at all costs. Making plans helps Jin calm down and he eventually returns to his place against Hoseok's chest, hiccupping every now and then from crying so much.

"Promise me you'll look out for them, Sunny," Jin pleads in a quiet, nasally tone, needing reassurance for the tenth time.

"I will. We all will. Me, Joon, Min..." he promises.

And then, in a deep breath and a whisper, "We love you."

There's a pause just before Jin slowly turns around with a look in his eye filled with so much emotion that Hoseok has never seen before (and will never see again). There's a glint and a sparkle there as he glances at Hoseok's mouth, something that tells him he wants to say those kind of words back but can't. Instead, he makes a joke, true to his character.

"I've had fantasies about you arresting me,” Jin says, kissing Hoseok on the corner of his mouth as he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’d mind going to jail if you were the one taking me there.”

Hoseok cackles as Jin wiggles his eyebrows. "You’re a sick freak, hyung."

With an agreeing grin, Jin kisses him and then fucks him right there on the couch, then makes love to him on the floor in front of the fireplace on the faux fur rug, under the warmest, softest blanket. They mark their territory on each other's skin with bruises and bites that will last for weeks. When they're both sweaty and breathless, Jin falls asleep on top of him and Hoseok tries to memorize every inch of his body, like he hasn't already done so countless times before, because he just wants to make sure he never forgets what love feels like. He succumbs to exhaustion with tears pricking the corners of his eyes that he won't let fall.

When he wakes, Jin is gone. Hoseok sits up in the eerily silent, practically empty cabin. The fire is now reduced to embers and it's significantly colder in the cabin. Hoseok hates the hollow feeling he gets as he moves around collecting his things, heavy blanket wrapped around him as he looks for any trace of Jin but finds nothing. The baking ware is gone as well. But there's a carefully wrapped meal left for him in the fridge that he won't be able to stomach until later that day.

There’s a big plate of decorated cookies on the counter and his heart stops and sags when next to it he finds an old phone turned off, covered in Jin's fingerprints, an astronaut sticker plastered and worn on the back.

Taped to it is a note that reads:

If you ever need to save yourself, it’s all right here.

And Hoseok melts on the floor in a puddle of tears at the notion that Jin is willing to sacrifice himself, his freedom, his life all for him if it's one day necessary. This is something he never would have imagined, especially not since years ago when Jin once threatened him and his family for his loyalty and devotion with a gun held to his head. Now, Hoseok thinks he would leave all that behind to stay with Jin. It's stupid and irresponsible, he knows, but Hoseok hasn't found anything in anyone like what he has in Jin. And he doesn't think he ever will. But none of that matters now. Because Jin will be gone and there is nothing Hoseok can do, except pick himself up and leave like none of that meant anything.

He's gotten really good at lying.

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part 1. coming soon!!! (for real this time)

masterlist

thanks for reading! this is the last of 2seok we'll see in this series :( they'll be mentioned throughout, but there just won't be anymore interactions. maybe at the very end who knows. i also could be lying and suddenly change my mind lol. hope you enjoyed! let me know if i missed any warnings.

xxx- claret

notes: i hope this all makes sense, like with the legal shit lol, i'm kind of making stuff up as i go bc it's imperative to the plot that both Jin and his father are no longer in charge so bear with me. That and i love the idea of hoseok being a dirty cop and having some forbidden love with mob boss jin.

taglist: @polarnightmyg @rinkud

Part 1 Teaser

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooow burn

summary: your brother calls you in for a chat, and upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit.

"I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread of files he laid out on your desk.

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options." Those goddamn shades. You can’t tell if he’s even looking at you.

"Are you sure?” You snark. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble." You search the parts of his face you can see for any kind of reaction, the only one playing as a tight line drawn between his lips, and you take that as a small victory.

"He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

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(potential!) drop date: october 2 at some point in the middle of the night EST lol

Check out the prologue! (featuring 2seok!)

Playing With Fire Teaser

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Themes: Mafia!Au

Summary: She's the only daughter of the Kim Clan, beloved by not only her father but three brothers. To the Min clan, she is their leader's wife, their Queen. To Yoongi she is his perfect match, just as blood-crazed as he is, he never needs to hide himself, not from her. To the rest of the workings of the Mafia, she is the Harley Quinn to Yonngi's Joker, and some people are a little too eager to find that out.

Warnings: Murder, blood, gore, talks of violence, violence, obsessive behaviour, smut.

When he awoke chained to a cold wall, Yoongi couldn't help the laughter that escaped his lips. The sound echoes off the walls and draws the attention of his captor. Seeing the woman coming to a halt before him, only made him laugh harder and damn it if he wasn't becoming a little aroused at the thought of what was coming.

"I fail to see what is so funny." She huffs, her armed guards slipping in front of her. Even tied up they knew more than she did, that Min Yoongi was not a man to be underestimated.

"Which makes this so funny. Please, please tell me you are in charge here."

"I am. My name is Raya, head of the Soo clan, you took over my territory, and I am hoping for it back. I sent a message to your wife, I find women to be open more to having a discussion. I told her if she releases my territory I will hand you back to her." When he let out a moan before laughing she seemed to lose her patience. "What is so funny, honestly."

"My kitten is a little possessive, she doesn't like others touching what belongs to her, especially other females." His eyes take on a crazy gleam as he leans forward as much as the chains will allow it. "I am laughing because you were stupid enough to play with fire and I can't wait to see you get burned."

She opened her mouth, no doubt to throw a fit about his words when a thud sounded. They all looked down, his three captors' faces filling with horror as he began to laugh again. There was a head sitting at her feet.

"Oh fuck this is about to get hot. She's so fucking sexy when she gets like this. Thank you, for the really good foreplay."

Mafia!Hyung Line (Reaction: you being a brat)

(Asks are always open!)

KNJ:

“What is it that you’re trying to do?” Namjoon asked.

You said nothing.

“Because I can promise you that whatever it is, it isn’t working very well.” Namjoon put his pen down and took his glasses off. He turned around in his office chair so he could face you.

You sat on the couch in the room with your arms and legs crossed. 

“I’m not trying to do anything, Namjoon.” He clenched his jaw and raised an eyebrow while turning his head to the side.

“You’re the one who called me up here anyway.” You whispered under your breath. 

He stood up slowly, both of his hands in his pockets as he approached you. You knew better than to move to avoid him, so you sat there with your gaze trained on his face.

He liked it when you looked into his eyes.

“I know that you haven’t been with me that long, so let me run a few things by you.” You jumped a bit at his touch as he ran one of his hands up towards your chest and over your collarbones.

He used that same hand to lightly caress the skin of your neck, before he wrapped his large hand around your tiny throat.

He held his hand there as he walked around toward the back of the couch, so he could lean down to whisper in your ear.

His hand tightened around your neck.

“I’m not much of an attitude person, darlin’.” He whispered, using his thumb to push your chin up so he could cut off some of your circulation.

“And I’m never going to hurt you, but I will embarrass you.” He laughed lightly as you gulped.

“Unless you’d like to keep up your attitude, that is. If that, for some stupid reason, is what you’d like to do, then I’ll be sure to give you a tour of the torture room once I get a chance.”

KSJ:

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

You continued to ignore him, typing away on your phone as his anger grew.

“Don’t you hear me talking to you?” You took a glance at him from the living room couch as he stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips.

“I’m not hungry, Jin.” He gave himself a couple of seconds to register what you said.

He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, before he began to walk toward the living room.

Your attitude toward him was growing day by day, and he was sick and tired of it.

Although you knew this, you were definitely surprised when he snatched your phone out of your hands and dropped it against the hardwood floor.

He leaned down a bit so he was eye level with you, and grabbed the fabric of your shirt and balled up into his fist.

The house servants stood in shock.

“You are dismissed.” Jin said to them.

When there was no movement, he turned to look behind himself at them.

“Get out.” He growled. You watched in fear as they all scurried out of the ground floor and either went up the stairs, or ran into another room to try and busy themselves.

He turned his attention back to you.

“I’m sorr-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You sat silently.

“You’ve had nice meals prepared for you every single day this week by the house cook. You’ve been giving me attitude constantly, and all you do every single day is sit there and stare at your fucking phone screen.”

He let go of your shirt and picked up your phone off of the ground and held it in his hand.

Your eyes widened.

“I’ll be going through this. You haven’t got anything to hide, do you?”

MYG:

“Y/N?” Yoongi yelled. You were in the room next to his office which was where he was, so you just opened the door and poked your head inside.

“Yes?” You smiled lightly. He returned the small smile and held up his hand.

“Come here.” He curled his pointer finger toward himself.

You furrowed your eyebrows and hesitantly stepped inside.

“Close the door behind you.” He said nonchalantly, as he began to type away on his computer.

You gently shut the door, and walked over to his desk. You stood a good distance away like he had taught you to a while back.

Well, he never taught you-- you learned the hard way.

“You can come a little closer, baby.”‘ He laughed.

You took one step closer to him.

His smile fell, and he reached out to grab your arm and yank you into his lap.

He wrapped his left arm uncomfortably tight around your waist as he began to click away at his computer again.

“We promised to always be honest with each other, right?” You nodded, smiling a bit as you did so.

“Good, good.” He hummed to himself, clicking a few more buttons on his computer before he pushed the screen toward you.

“Could you tell me who Jinsoo is, then?” You froze.

“I--”

“I think it’s a pretty stupid idea to make the password to your email your birthday, darlin’. It wasn’t difficult whatsoever to hack into.” You felt like crying.

How could you forget to delete the fucking emails?

“I guess I should be glad that you didn’t flat out text him. Maybe you do have a little bit of respect left for me.” He laughed.

“He’s just a high school friend Yoongi, I swear. He found me through my social media and asked for my email.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“He was a high school friend.” He corrected you lazily as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.” Yoongi ignored you and soothingly ran a hand up and down your back, before his hand trailed up to your scalp and he gripped a fistful of your hair.

He forced you to lay over his lap, as he pulled up your shirt to reveal your ass.

“How many spanking are we thinking, hm?”

JHS:

Hoseok smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

The two of you were going on a date today.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers that he bought for you off of the counter as he walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he told you to wait for him when you were ready.

He told you to get dressed before him, because he knew that it’d take you some time. He didn’t mind at all, though.

He enjoyed it when you made yourself up just for him.

He entered the living room, the flowers behind his back as he saw your beautiful figure lax against the couch.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“I thought I told you to meet me down here when you were ready?”  He smiled out of confusion.

You turned to face him, unaware of his presence until now.

“Oh, I am ready!” Hoseok shook his head and set the flowers down on the coffee table.

“No, you aren’t.” You knew what he was referring to-- the dress.

Hoseok bought you a different dress for every single date. You appreciated the gesture, but you decided to just wear something that you could actually move around in without worrying about something slipping.

“What the hell is this?” He stepped closer to you and raked his eyes up and down your body.

You looked delectable as always, but that didn’t mean that he was satisfied with your appearance.

“I decided not to wear the dress today.” He opened his mouth, but you continued to talk anyway.

That was his biggest pet peeve.

“I thought that it was a little short-- and p-plus I know that you don’t like it when other people look at me, s-so I figured that-- ah!” You yelled when he pulled you up off of the couch.

“You’re right. I don’t like it when other people look at you.” He tore your flimsy shirt apart with his hands.

“They’ll never get a chance to be with you, though, so I don’t mind showing you off. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles.

You let him-- you knew better than to fight him.

You wanted to leave the house with fully functioning legs.

Just as he began ordering you to take the jeans off completely, his phone dinged.

“Limo’s here.” He smiled evilly, and grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the door with him.

“Hoseok!” He said nothing.

“Baby, please!” You yelled. 

He looked at you over his shoulder.

“I can’t go out like this. You know that.” He cocked his head to the side and feigned confusion.

“No?” He asked. You shook your head slowly.

He scowled.

“Then you better go put that fucking dress on.”