#jungkook mafia

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.

“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.

“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.

He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.

This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head. 

Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.

“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused. 

It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam. 

“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking. 

Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain. 

“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”

Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you? 

“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it. 

They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of. 

“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for. 

—

Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you. 

Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you. 

“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”

He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.

You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much. 

He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary. 

“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words. 

You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.

“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”

The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.

—

You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away. 

You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started. 

So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.  

Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always  one of patience.

You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.

“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.

His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.

You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.

He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.

“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.

You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.

“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.

That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.

“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”

He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.

—

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”

The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves. 

Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up. 

The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh. 

How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over. 

—

Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself. 

“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do. 

He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.

“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day. 

Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort. 

You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve. 

When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”

He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet. 

“Doyouhateme?”

The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.

“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”

You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him. 

“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”

That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence? 

Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face. 

—

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did. 

The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm. 

If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped. 

Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged. 

He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.

Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence. 

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.

He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.

“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.

He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.

“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.

“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”

“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”

—

The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted. 

The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out. 

And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.

“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.

He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.

“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”

You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.

“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.

“No.”

“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.

“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”

“You can’t b-“

Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.

Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.

You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.

You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.

The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow. 

No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame. 

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.

“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.

“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn��t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.

“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not. 

“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”

He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?

“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”

He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good. 

“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.

Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.

“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”

“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”

“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”

“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”

“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”

The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.

The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.

“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”

Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.

“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”

—

If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear. 

You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?

Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.

You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?

His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.

His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread. 

He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.

The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself. 

They lied. 

They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust. 

You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you. 

“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you. 

They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.

“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”

Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out. 

You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again. 

He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.

“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you. 

—

When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.

Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.

He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.

What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?

Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.

The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.

—

He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.

“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.

It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.

“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly. 

“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth. 

“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.

“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”

“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.

“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.

The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says. 

“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…

“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.

“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”

Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched. 

“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”

“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks. 

“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there. 

The older four men look at eachother knowingly. 

“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously. 

“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”

As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.

Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK - Masterlist

Updates every Sunday!!!

🗲summary:

It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲genre: angst, action, slow burn, enemies to lovers, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, weapons, swearing, arguing, injury, past trauma, mentions of death

Teaser

Character Moodboards/Bios: Jungkook | Yoongi | Hobi | V | Jimin | Jin | Namjoon | You

Supercharged Playlist

Chapter 1 - The Light Dies

Chapter 2 - Reign of Mercy

Chapter 3 - Figure it Out

Chapter 4 - We aren't Heroes, Honey

Chapter 5 - Scared of a Little Lightning

Chapter 6 - Burn Out

Chapter 7 - Spark to Life

Chapter 8 - On the Force

Chapter 9 - Thank me Later

Chapter 10 - Is This Not Control?

Chapter 11 - Right Beside You

Chapter 12 - Into the Depths

Chapter 13 - One of Us

Chapter 14 - Cover Me

Chapter 15 - Powerless

Epilogue - Sweet Taste

Updates every Sunday! To be on the taglist, send me a message, ask or comment!💜

[explicit-tae]

ughh I just came back from re reading the cruel intentions drabbleee, I want to see girl dad jungkook so badd

no but girl dad jungkook that just lets her do whatever she wants, whenever she wants against the mc's will

Punishment

Jungkook cannot help but release a sigh - a sigh so deep from his chest that he has to take a deep breath to regain back all of the oxygen he let out. His hands rub at his temples, eyes closing a bit so he can process the words that the young man before him speaks.

“Who…why are you here?”

Jungkook was tired - simple. He was tired of running this empire that was known as Bangtan. Sure, he wasn’t doing it alone. But it was enough to drive his stress levels high. He often had headaches having to deal with the new recruits - all young and determined, but dumb as shit and often made mistakes.

“You can’t keep hurting the men that work for you, Kook.” Yoongi had said to him one day, scolding him with his tone and those feline-like eyes. 

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Jeon-ssi.” the young man murmurs, sitting across from Jungkook as he speaks. He’s obviously nervous, hands trembling in his lap.

“Someone had to have let you on to this job because I sure as hell didn’t!” Jungkook barks, crashing his hand down onto his desk. “I bet it was Taehyung, huh? He always wants to give me his shitty people.”

The last thing Jungkook needed was to deal with more shit - on top of more shit. Over the course of the last few months, he had to pick up the slack of other new recruits. His products were being lost, which meant his money was slowing down (not enough to hinder him, just enough to piss him off) which meant he had clients waiting longer than what they should be.

“I apologize, Jeon-ssi. I should have been more attentive-”

“More attentive to my product?” Jungkook leans forward. On his desk is a brick of what is supposed to be coke sent straight from overseas - what he got was not coke. “Have you ever done drugs?”

The man - boy, he appeared to be in his late teens - shakes his head with wider eyes. 

Jungkook turns his eyes to the surrounding men, all standing behind the one seated across from him. They were all seemingly new, some here longer than others. 

“This is not coke.” Jungkook murmurs. “You were instructed to check the product before handing them millions of my money, correct?”

“Yes, but-”

“Shut up.” Jungkook hisses. “Now what we got is some cheap imitation of fucking coke and I’m down millions of fucking dollars because of you,” Jungkook points at the wide-eye boy. “and all of you,” he waves his arms around to the surrounding men. “who cannot do something so simple!”

Jungkook wants to ask his hyung’s what they do when their men act foolish if he was instructed to not hurt them. His hand itches to strike each and every one of them and he was trying his hardest to be the bigger person.

Jungkook closes his eyes. “Just take a deep breath…” he hears your voice in his mind; so soothing and calm. 

Jungkook opens his eyes and stands. “Tomorrow, you all will be going back overseas and getting me my money back. This,” Jungkook picks up the brick of cocaine - if only it was authentic, and throws it at one man - it hits him in the chest harshly. “is unacceptable.”

The room is silent as Jungkook gives his orders. He doesn’t dismiss them properly and only waves his hands for them to leave. They all scurry off, seemingly throwing one another out the door to be out of the older man's sights.

“I’m proud.”

Jungkook groans again at hearing the voice.

“Jimin.”

“You never add hyung to my name anymore.” Jimin enters the room and behind him, another young recruit. “I’m hurt.”

“Why the fuck is he here?” Jungkook didn’t have time for small talk. “Please…please don’t tell me you fucked up again?”

Jungkook doesn’t have the mental capacity to handle the amount of screw ups everyone has been throwing his way lately. 

“Ji-hu…” Jimin pushes the younger man inside the office. “...tell Kookie,” 

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook injects. “Speak.” he then says to Ji-hu.

Jimin shuts the door to the office behind him and leans against him. He is always amused when Jungkook is visibly upset.

“I…we may have-”

“May have?” Jungkook quoted. “You may have what? It’s either you did or you didn’t?”

Ji-hu glances away for a moment. “The heist…”

Jungkook groans loudly, crashing against his seat.

“I told Taehyung-”

“As did I.” Jimin nods in agreement before Jungkook can finish his sentence. “These new batches of men we have are completely useless. You all are always fucking up.”

“Don’t we pay you enough, Ji-hu?” Jungkook stands, rounding the desk and stalking his way towards Ji-hu. “You were appointed leader of that heist because I am well aware of your abilities. You let me down like the rest of them.”

Jimin crosses his arms just as Jungkook slaps Ji-hu on the side of his head. He proceeds to do it a few more times, letting out more frustration than necessary on the poor boy - but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t an amusing sight. Jungkook looked more like a father disciplining his child than anything else. 

“I’m sorry, Jeon-ssi-”

“Jimin, where’s everyone else that was on the heist?”

“Outside. Would you like me to get them, Kookie?”

Jungkook glares at his older friend but only nods. 

It took five minutes for the rest of the men to return and now Jungkook decides that, however comical it may be to Jimin, that he had to do what was right to shape these men into where they need to be.

Yoongi would be proud that he wasn’t causing damaging harm to them.

Jungkook swings the belt against the younger mens back, each blow slapping against their skin harshly and leaving a stinging effect each time. 

“I shouldn’t have to beat you all into submission,” Jungkook hisses, slamming down his belt more on the four men. “I don’t even have to do this to my own son!”

Jimin wants to say it was because Jungkook would never hit Jin-seon - who now is a direct carbon copy of his father at the age of 10,  attitude and all. Jin-seon’s behavior is often excused by his father and only corrected by his mother, but knowing how Jungkook was raised, Jimin understands why he allows his son to do whatever he wishes.

There’s a knock on the door that halts Jungkook’s beating to his men. He turns towards Jimin who only shrugs his shoulders.

“Enter.” Jungkook sighs, turning towards the door fully.

The door opens and immediately, Jungkook’s eyes soften.

You widen your own eyes at the four men, all cowering on the ground with welts on their exposed skin. You’re holding a large tray in your arms and you contemplate turning away.

“Appa, look!”

“Jin-ah, appa’s busy-”

Your daughter doesn’t care - she never did. 

Jimin watches as Jin-ah, the small 5 year old girl, runs towards her father who kneels down to bring her into his arms. She isn't fazed by the four men who are forming bruises onto their skin as she had seen this before on accident. “They were being bad so appa had to punish them, baby. No need to worry.” was what Jungkook had told her when she asked why a few men were bleeding all over the place. 

“Eomma and me made lunch!” Jin-ah is excited, her eyes wide with excitement. She had most of the lunch she prepared herself - a complete mess that only a five year old could make - on a tray and insisted that you and she take it to her father. Jungkook would eat whatever concoction Jin-ah made for him, the worst being ramen cooked in coffee and milk because she knew her father liked them.

“I made the tea.” you sigh, stepping into the room. There was no stopping Jin-ah now. “Um,”

You glance down again to the men on the ground. 

“They were being bad, eomma.” Jin-ah says, pointing to the men. 

Jimin cackles at this while you only sigh, wishing Jungkook would try better to not normalize what he’s involved with to the children. 

“Very bad.” Jungkook hugs Jin-ah tighter, peppering her soft cheeks with kisses. His heart swells when his daughter wraps her small arms around his neck.

“Can I banish them?” your daughter asks when she’s releasing her father’s neck.

“It’s pronounced punish-”

Jungkook is interrupted by your stern hiss. “No! You can’t!” you walk over the men who remained kneeling on the ground to place the tray onto Jungkook’s desk. “Let’s go-”

“I wanna stay.” Jin-ah clings onto her father, nails digging into his shirt. 

“Why don’t we all just have a little tea party?” Jimin claps his hands. “Come, Jin-ah, sit on the ground with us.”

Jimin grabs the tea just as Jungkook allows his daughter down. She goes towards Jimin who has set out four glass cups - taken from Jungkook’s liquor cabinet - and into each of the men’s hands. “Pour them their tea, Jin-ah.”

“I-I don’t really drink tea-”

“You’ll drink whatever my daughter serves you.” Jungkook isn’t amused with the lack of respect for his daughter’s hospitality.

“Yes, Jeon-ssi.”

Jin-ah is happy to pour the tea - that barely makes it into their cups and instead is poured on their hands and lap instead. To avoid any reaction from her father, then men remain quiet, dying on the inside at the burns they’ll be receiving. 

Jin-ah sits across from the men and speaks about nonsense - whatever cartoon she’s watched lately and what goes on at her school. You shake your head, turning your eyes to your husband. “Really?”

Jungkook has a soft smile on his lips as he looks at his daughter. “She looks so happy.” he murmurs. “How could I say no to her?”

You cross your arms. “I do it all the time.” you murmur. 

“I remember how small she was when she was first born. I knew she loved me when she didn’t cry in my arms.”

“You cried instead.” you snort, leaning against his desk at the memories of your daughter's birth. 

You suppose it was emotional for Jungkook as he wasn’t able to be there for Jin-seon’s. He was very attentive, determined to witness you during your entire pregnancy. It was astonishing to see  your stomach grow bigger and bigger each month.

“Let’s have another one.” Jungkook winks at you suggestively, jokingly. Though he wouldn’t be opposed. 

“No.” you deadpan and it causes Jungkook to wrap you into a tight embrace. “Dealing with three Jungkook’s is hectic enough. You truly want me to add a fourth?”

Jungkook only snickers, placing his lips at the nape of your neck. He inhales your sweet scent, a familiar scent of home to it.

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(2)⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚

˖°࿐ •⁀➷°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐

ꕤ play thing | basketball player!jungkook x female reader | Drabble series | @koocycle

ꕤ paddle with me | jk X reader | campcounselor!au | @yoongsgguktae

ꕤ Castaway | jk X reader | Desert island AU | @hamsterclaw

ꕤ pick & roll | brother’s bestfriend!jk X reader | @xpeachesncream

ꕤ I Remember You | Celestial!Jungkook x Human!FemReader | @streetlight11

ꕤ All I Want | jk X reader | side : kth X reader | War AU | series | @ardentlyjae

ꕤ Dynasty | Jk X reader | Historical AU | @jimlingss

ꕤ My Beauty, My Blood | Mafia!jk X reader | @7cypher

ꕤ bad boy good thing | Jk X Reader | series | @yoonpobs

ꕤ reminder | ex!jk X reader | Three shot | @dollfaceksj

ꕤ strawberry kisses | rapper!jeongguk x photographer!reader | series | @kimnjss

ꕤ the lighthouse | jk X reader | @ephemerlskies

ꕤ no sweetness | lacrosseplayer!jungkook X bobarista!reader | @roseatae

ꕤ Secrets We Keep | idol!jk X camgirl!Reader | series | @yoongiofmine

ꕤ A Picture’s Worth | Gang member!Jungkook X Ex-Gang member!Reader | @chimcess

ꕤ Bloody Love... | yandere!king!jungkook X oc | series | @hongjoongscafe

OTHER POSTS:

˖°࿐ •⁀➷°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐ •⁀➷˖°࿐

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(1)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(2)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(4)

ALL BTS MEMBERS WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(1)

BTS X READER WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(2)

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 20: Trapped in limbo

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, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 22.8k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ warnings: lots and lots of crying; grief; medical stuff i am only pretending to understand; hidden doors; anxiety, panic, fainting, & PTSD; mention of past abuse; dream gore that borders on romantic; graphic & violent nightmares; recreational drinking & drug use (mdma, cocaine, weed); miscommunication & lack of communication due to emotional distress; smut (oral and vaginal sex; not quite somnophilia but almost; orgasm denial thanks to medication; sex while on drugs; fingering; use of restraints; a hint of booty play; cum swallowing); every smut scene is a fucking mess.

🗡️ note: grief is a deep sorrow that we experience for so many more reasons than when someone passes away. sometimes we grieve people who are still with us. other times, we grieve a relationship before it has come to an end. this chapter, and every remaining chapter of Collateral, is going to deal a lot with grief. this chapter was tough to write, and then i couldn't stop. all it was meant to be was a handful of scenes with heavy dialogue interspersed with anxiety and adjusting to medication and messy smut, and somehow we reached that bonkers word count. i didn't once stray from the outline, i am just incapable of being brief, these days. anyway, there will be some time skips/blurs because of the medication, and between one and a half and two weeks pass.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on sept. 2023 | read on ao3

It is unclear what time you hear a knock at the door. You are unsure where your purse ended up in last night's scuffle, the hints of sun that would be visible are blocked by deep burgundy curtains, and your vision is so blurry from exhaustion and tears, that it is hard to parse whether or not there is a clock amongst all the strange antique furnishings of Seokjin and Hoseok's living room. 

The sound of footsteps scampering behind the couch, presumably from the kitchen, surprises you, and you wonder whether you truly have been awake this entire time, or somewhere in an in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness. 

Voices chatter low and hurried, and then a figure rushes over and sits at your side. It takes two heavy blinks to realize that the man settling in beside you is Taehyung dressed dapperly in all black, and when you cock your head to the right in question, his plastered smile falls into a frown.

"I'm so sorry about everything that happened," Taehyung begins. You want to shake your head and tell him that it is not his fault, but all you can bring yourself to do is stare and blink. "Let me start off by saying everyone is alive."

"Everyone," you mumble quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. With a heavy exhale, you attempt to smile. 

"Jimin was shot in the shoulder, and it was the impact of hitting the ground that knocked him out. Although he has not suffered too much blood loss, and his vitals are stable, he has not woken up, and I am unsure when we can expect him to, but there does not appear to be any brain damage."

These are a lot of words—too many words, in fact, for you to follow along with, and you simply nod. All you hold onto is the fact that Jimin is alive; for now, that is enough. 

"Yoongi," you mutter, elongating the vowels. Once more, Taehyung frowns.

"Yoongi has a gash across his eye, starting above the brow and extending to the apple of his cheek." As Taehyung describes the wound, your heart pounds, and nausea fills your insides. He continues, "But, luckily, his eyeball is intact and unharmed. There does not appear to be any vision impairment."

"How…" you begin, brow and lips falling into a frown, but the words die on your tongue. 

Taehyung says your first name, low and slow, like someone gently regarding a child. Hearing your name spoken aloud, rather than a nickname, causes the hairs on your arms to stand, and you swallow a lump of worry. 

"What do you remember, after Jimin was shot?"

You search Taehyung's face while the events return in fragments. Once Jimin fell, you reacted by shooting his assailant multiple times. At the time, you were worried—in fact, convinced—that Jimin was dead, and all you could feel in that moment was rage. Once your bullets ran out, you wanted to bash the man's face in, but you were held back. Then you took out your knife, which was pulled away from you. 

"I emptied my clip but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to stab him," you say. "The man, I mean. But my knife was taken away."

Taehyung leans close and reaches for both of your clammy hands, holding firmly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles as he speaks very softly. "When Namjoon attempted to pull your knife away, Yoongi was—" Taehyung sighs, "—he was standing too close. You and Namjoon both yanked at your arm, and in that motion, the tip of the blade sliced his face."

It takes several tense, quiet moments before anything Taehyung says fully computes. You stare at him, searching his face while the synapses fire inside your brain in an attempt to communicate what you see, feel, and hear. And then, like a thin layer of dust settling over all it can touch, the information begins to trickle down and shroud you.

"I…" you mutter, feeling tears well and fall. You have cried so much that you neither sniffle nor tremble as your cheeks grow wetter and wetter. And then, you say it. "I cut Yoongi."

"It was an accident," Taehyung is quick to add, and you rip your hands from his grasp and ball them in front of your face, feeling your chest tighten and tighten, squeezing the air out. 

This cannot be. You cannot be responsible for injuring Yoongi. How will you ever face him again, knowing what you have done?

"I'm dreaming," you mutter, suddenly feeling hysterical. Laughter works through your chest just as quickly as panic rises, and you shake your head, unable to control your emotions. "This is just a bad dream. There's no way—"

"Would you like to see him?" Taehyung asks, snapping you back to reality. 

With a sniffle, you shake your head, horrified at the prospect of facing Yoongi after what you have done. 

"How could I?" you mutter uselessly into your balled fists. "How could I face him? How could he ever look at me again?"

Again, Taehyung says your first name as he gently reaches for your hands and attempts to remove them from in front of your face. You allow him to, sighing as they fall into your lap. "It was an accident. He does not blame you. None of us do."

But you know that at least one of them does. "Jeongguk," you mutter, remembering his snarl as he told you, You've done enough.

With a sigh, Taehyung shakes his head. "Jeongguk was just scared. He was angry in the moment, but he does not hold it against you."

With a scoff, you shake your head in return; there is no way Jeongguk would forgive you so easily. It took months to get on his good side and only seconds for him to turn on you. Your voice is weak and soft as you rasp, "I doubt it."

"Come with me to the mansion," Taehyung says, sitting up and scooting a fraction of an inch closer. "Yoongi and Namjoon want to see you, and our family psychiatrist Christopher is on standby, should you need to talk to him."

"What I need is to be sedated," you grumble as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your eyes momentarily shut. "I couldn't sleep. Just kept seeing the man's head explode—the man Hoseok shot."

Taehyung's lips twitch upward as he says, "We can figure something out."

Looking down at yourself, you see Hoseok's black pajamas and sigh. "I'm keeping these," you say, resolved not to change into your dress again. 

"They're yours," Taehyung responds with a soft laugh, glancing over your shoulder for a brief moment. You wonder whether Seokjin or Hoseok are standing back there, but you also don't care enough to turn. 

"Alright," you concede with a huff and sit forward, stretching your back and letting out a deep, low yawn. "We can return to the mansion, but I'm not…I don't know how much I will be able to talk. I'm so fucking tired."

Taehyung smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. It is the smile of someone who is exhausted but pleased with the way things are going in the present moment; the smile of someone glad he does not need to convince you any further to go home. "Christopher can recommend something for you to take, and we can get you straight into bed, if you prefer."

"My purse," you grumble, looking around. 

"It was in my vehicle," Taehyung says. "I gave it to Namjoon for safekeeping."

With another nod, you shift, sitting forward, then you stretch your legs from where they had been bunched and pretzled beneath you. As you stand from the couch and stretch again—this time extending all your limbs, twisting your back, breathing deeply—it hits you that you are returning home, and anxiety swells. 

But you know that there is no way you can stay away from home. No matter how badly Yoongi has been injured, and how guilty you feel about what has happened, you need to face it. You need to return to your home, to your bed, to your men. 

"Ready?" Taehyung asks softly, rounding the couch toward the front door. 

Only then do you turn to your left and find Hoseok leaning against the banister at the bottom landing of the stairs, barely out of view from where you had been sitting. Although he smiles, it is a sad expression, and he watches you silently. 

"I'm ready," you respond, gaze lingering on Hoseok before dropping to the floor. 

Your limbs are heavy as you shuffle toward the door. On the arm of the couch, your black dress is folded neatly, and you take it in your hands, rubbing your fingers over the soft satin material. 

"Thanks for the pajamas," you say softly with a hint of a smile, doing your best at humor despite feeling lower than you think you have ever felt. 

Hoseok smiles when you glance back up and catch his eye, responding, "My pleasure. I hope the garments treat you well."

This makes you laugh, but it also forces more tears to work their way out with a soft sob and a sniffle. With an arm gently wrapped around your lower back, Taehyung guides you to the entrance, where you slip on your ballet flats, and head out the door. 

The sun is high and bright, signaling late morning, and you squint and lift your hand to block the light. To your surprise, parked beside a large black sedan is a little white golf cart, and Taehyung steers you toward it. 

"Sick ride," you grumble with an attempted grin. 

Taehyung's hand drops away as you lean forward and step into the cart, taking a seat on the little white plastic bench. It only takes a moment for Taehyung to round the front and enter, and then you are off, making your way from Hoseok's home down a short gravel and dirt road tucked away in some trees, to Yoongi's mansion. 

The driveway is packed with vehicles, making you substantially more nervous than you already had been, and you swallow thickly while attempting to steady your breathing. Rather than driving to the front door, Taehyung takes an immediate right and stops the cart on the side of the mansion. From here, there are no clear paths to the gardens or the pool, and you are confused when Taehyung gets out of the vehicle and begins to walk toward where there is a shrub wall that intersects with the side of the mansion.

It takes a moment to process the fact that you are in charge of manually moving your limbs, and with a sigh, you step out of the cart, hugging your black satin dress tight to your chest. Taehyung walks to the intersection of shrubbery and building, and then he reaches into the greenery at chest height before pushing a section of it open and revealing a hidden door. 

"I bet you have no idea how many secrets this place holds," he says with a grin, and you shake your head before scurrying after him, through the shrub-covered door. 

A narrow path between shrub wall and dark brown wood greets you, and Taehyung walks toward the back, to where a door can be found against the side of the house. He punches in a code, leans forward to scan his retina, and then twists a knob, gaining entrance. 

"Yoongi is currently meeting with the security team and some others, hence all the vehicles," Taehyung says as he holds the door open for you to enter. "They should be finished soon."

As you step inside, you are greeted by a set of stairs that travel down under the mansion. Although there is a light that Taehyung switches on, and the steps are carpeted in a welcoming royal blue, there is something so foreboding about a surprise set of stairs leading down into the earth.

"Where are we?" you ask as Taehyung closes the door tightly behind you and begins to descend on your right. You do your best to keep up, loosely holding onto a wooden railing on your left while your other hand grips your satin dress close to your chest. 

"Beside the kitchen," Taehyung responds. "Between the kitchen and living room, to be exact." 

Once you reach the basement level, Taehyung flips on another switch and turns off the stairwell light behind you. There is an large room carpeted and furnished in blues, blacks, and tans, and you are surprised as you look around at the space. It smells somewhat musty, and you wonder when the last time anyone actually came down here may have been. 

"We don't use this space anymore," Taehyung says as if reading your mind. "But when Yoongi's parents were still alive, this was where he would spend a lot of his time."

You hum and nod, glancing around further. Along a back wall is a wooden bar, now empty, but you imagine it stocked with bottles of whatever liquors a younger version of Yoongi may have liked. There are also recreational table games on the far end that look unfamiliar, as well as a pool table. A dartboard and pool cues share the same wall with the bar top, and you try to imagine Yoongi and Namjoon, and probably also Ryujin, spending their evenings down here as teenagers. 

"Our group used to come down here to party and debrief in the early days," Taehyung adds as you continue to walk through the space toward a door along the wall ahead. "But that was before Yoongi owned hotels, casinos, nightclubs, and all that."

"Oh," you mutter, trying to imagine a Yoongi who did not own half of Seoul. You wonder how much of his empire he inherited from his father versus how much of it he built himself. 

You almost feel remorse over never knowing that side of Yoongi—a younger man who was not so tied down to his duties as a mafia king. But then you remember the scars along his sides, chest, and stomach, and you wonder whether there was ever a carefree man in Yoongi's skin. 

"Just a little further," Taehyung says, holding his hand up toward the door at the far end. 

"Where does this lead to?" you ask. 

"We are going to go up one more set of steps and end up on the other end of the hall, " Taehyung explains, voice soft, deep, and measured. "From there, we will tip-toe up the stairs and wait for Yoongi and Namjoon. Although this is the scenic route, I thought having to walk through the front door might be too stressful for you. I also thought it would be in your best interest to become well acquainted with these more hidden parts of the home."

This gives you pause, and you stumble on your next step ever so slightly, catching the toe of your right ballet flat against the soft carpet beneath. "Oh?"

With a soft sigh, Taehyung stops and turns to you, and you halt, doing the same. 

"Just in case," he says, regarding you with a hint of a frown. "I don't want to worry you or anything…but I feel like these are secrets you should know because, well, you never know."

The two of you stand facing one another for several quiet seconds, and then you nod and heavy-blink, turning your attention back toward the door. Everything feels so ominous, even simple gestures of kindness, and you attempt to swallow down the fact that this is your reality. 

"Thank you," you mutter quietly, clearing your throat to speak more clearly as you glance at Taehyung once again. "I appreciate it."

Taehyung cracks a smile, then holds his hand out to the door, sing-songing a corny, "Ladies first," and you chuckle, hesitating before reaching for the knob and turning it. It opens to another dark stairwell, and Taehyung steps forward and rubs along the wall before light illuminates the narrow space. You note that the light switches seem to be along the same wall on both ends of the room, just in case the information may one day come in handy.

As you begin to ascend, Taehyung closes the door behind you and steps in line to your right. You make your way further up, closer to your destination, and your heart begins to pound. Faced with the opportunity of seeing Yoongi and Namjoon again has you feeling so many ways, and they all swirl uncomfortably in your gut. You know they are likely not angry with you…but what if they are?

Rather than go straight up, this stairwell stops halfway and curves around, much like a standard building stairwell, only carpeted. At the top of the stairs, Taehyung reaches in front of you and very gently, slowly pulls on a large metal handle. 

He opens the door just as slowly, and you realize that he must be attempting to be as silent as possible. Although you are unable to detect any sound coming from whoever must be meeting in the main hall, you are surprised that Taehyung is going to such great lengths to be silent. 

Or maybe, you consider, he is not doing this because he feels you need to be silent in this moment. Maybe Taehyung is doing this to show you just how silent this door is so that you can store the information for later. Although you certainly feel paranoid for considering the notion, it does make sense that he would both reveal a somewhat secret passage to you and showcase just how secret it may be. 

And you nearly question how secretive a door presumably at the end of a hallway could possibly be, until you step out into a room that is certainly not the hallway, and Taehyung closes a panel of wall that does not look at all like a door. His fingers pass over a section along the very well-concealed crack about chest height and press in. Silently, the door unlatches and pushes forward, and you watch with your mouth hanging agape as he demonstrates opening and closing it. 

The dining room you stand in is the larger of the two. During your tour with Felix and Changbin all that time ago, you never came to this room. It was simply described as the much larger one at the end of the hall.

The scale of this room is rather enormous. It appears as if more than twenty people could sit around the long dark wood table, and the décor is very similar to the smaller room—brown leather-topped chairs with intricately carved patterns, dark wood wainscoting and blood-red wallpaper, with brass sconces and crystal chandeliers. 

You stand in the far corner along the wall containing the entrance, which is mid-way through the room, to the right. The door hangs open, and now you can hear the faint voices of men coming from down the hallway. As you step out, you realize you are at the very end of the hall. Ordinarily, this door is closed, and it is one you had never considered going into, before. 

"Come, now," Taehyung says quietly, toeing out of his shoes and bending to pick them up. 

You do the same and scurry ahead as he begins to make his way toward the large stairwell ahead and to the right. Now that you are in a part of the mansion that feels like home, your nervousness turns to nausea. 

Taehyung is no longer attempting to be silent, and he walks ahead, seemingly blocking you from the view of others as he waves to the men from over the banister of the stairwell and then straightens out. You have no desire to be perceived in any way just yet, so you prance up to the landing on your tiptoes. Listen as you try, you do not hear a familiar voice speaking. 

"Should I join you for the time being?" Taehyung asks as you reach the top, and you turn toward the master suite, swallowing thickly. 

"Yes, please," you mutter, somewhat embarrassed by how small you sound.

A warm, gentle hand rubs over the small of your back, and it is all the encouragement you need to continue forward. Although you cannot confidently guess how the others must feel about you at the present moment, you are at least grateful to have an ally in Taehyung. 

The two of you drop your shoes outside the bedroom door, and you walk ahead into the space that you have come to know as your haven. Floral and musk are light in the air, but you can only detect traces of Yoongi and Namjoon lingering. 

Taehyung walks ahead, straight to the sofa, and he reaches for the remote. It is so casual and domestic that when he turns to you with a soft smile and pats the cushion beside him, a wide, happy grin tugs at the ends of your lips. 

"I heard you like Ghibli films," Taehyung says as you walk over, and as soon as you plop down to his left, he swings his legs up onto the cushion and leans ever so slightly closer. His scent is subdued, but it is the spicy, earthy blend you remember from the night he carried you close to his chest.

"I do," you respond, staring ahead at the black screen of the television while attempting to get your bearings.

"Which have you seen, so far?"

You think back to the private jets, to Yoongi and Namjoon, and also to Jimin. Your lips fall to a frown before you school your expression and wet your lips. 

“Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away,” you respond. “And part of Princess Mononoke, but we fell asleep.”

Taehyung shifts beside you excitedly, lifting the remote and clicking through menus as he says, “Princess Mononoke is my favorite.”

This calm, gentle side of Taehyung might just be your favorite. While snarky Taehyung has been entertaining and quite suggestive, mafia Taehyung has been deadly and protective, and doctor Taehyung has been an actual savior to the family and to you so many times, this Taehyung is patient and considerate. This is the same Taehyung who held you gently in his arms to take you to a bath and to check in to make sure you still felt comfortable and safe with everything that had transpired in his sex room. This Taehyung feels like a friend.

"How long will they all be meeting?" you blurt as Taehyung finds the title and presses play. 

He shifts forward to set the remote onto the table and then sits back, placing his hand upright and wiggling his fingers. You take the invitation and slowly lower your hand into his, which he gently caresses with his fingertips. A voiceover introduces the film, but Taehyung does not seem to care about pausing or lowering the volume. 

"Hard to say," he responds softly, eyes on the foggy opening scene. "When I came to get you, they were still pretty deep into their conversation. Things like this can sometimes take all day."

"All day," you mutter unhappily under your breath. Sure, you may worry about seeing Yoongi and Namjoon, but not seeing them fills you with the same amount of angst. 

Taehyung sighs, and rather than continue delicately playing with your hand, he grabs it and twines his fingers between yours. The gesture makes you frown despite how warm your chest becomes. 

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” he says, eyes still on the screen but inattentive. Perhaps this is his way of consoling someone; perhaps, for once, direct eye contact is too much for him. 

You scoff slightly and shrug, looking down at your hands. “I’m not really sure how I’m feeling,” you admit. 

Taehyung shifts beside you, and you turn to look at him. His eyes are wide and caring, and they peer straight into your heart. All at once, you feel shy, and you rip your gaze away, to the wall just below the television as you realize he was likely not avoiding eye contact for his sake but for yours. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, filling you to the brim with sadness. 

You heavy-blink and attempt not to cry, muttering, “I injured someone I love. What’s there to talk about?”

Taehyung is quick to say, "It was an accident," but not in a way that is placating or defensive. 

"Accident or not," you begin, eyes falling to your entwined hands as you imagine all the ways in which you have caused Yoongi harm with one simple accident. With a sigh, you continue, feeling the tremble that works its way through your words. "What if I had blinded him? Or cut him somewhere life-threatening? I could have caused so much harm, I could have—"

"But you didn't," Taehyung interrupts insistently. "You did none of those things. And dwelling on all the what-ifs is not going to do you any good."

Taehyung is correct, and you are thankful for his calm, assuring presence. "I know," you utter, defeated. 

Sure, it does no good to dwell on all the possibilities, but knowing that does not make it any easier not to. 

"You've been through a lot in these past couple of months," Taehyung speaks over the movie, eyes once again watching as characters move across the screen. You see light, movement, and color, but you do not fully register anything taking place. You are not sure you could if you tried. 

As Taehyung's words settle over you, you scoff, muttering, "That's a fucking understatement."

To your surprise, Taehyung chuckles softly. Barely any sound emits, but you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders beside you. Although levity is nice, you cannot ignore the glaring truth. 

"Is it always this way?" you ask. 

This is not the first time you have asked a question like this, but you feel the need to, anyway. And when silence hangs between the two of you, speaking volumes louder than anything Taehyung could offer, unease settles deep. 

With a sigh, you close your eyes, feeling tears build. And when you admit aloud, "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this," you feel the grip on your hand loosen and then tighten.

"Do what?" Taehyung asks, although you cannot imagine he requires prompting; Taehyung knows damn well what about this situation you cannot withstand. He has been present for each moment during which your foundation has been forced to crack little by little. 

"All of this," you respond through another sigh. You pull your hand away from Taehyung's and lift your feet to the cushion, wrapping your arms around your shins and resting your forehead in the valley between your knees. 

"I love Yoongi," you mutter into the small space that warms with each of your exhales. "And Namjoon, and to an extent, all of you. But this lifestyle is killing me, and I can't take it anymore."

"Killing you?" Taehyung asks somewhat teasingly, making you crack a smile over your dramatics. 

You lift your head just enough to turn and face him, returning his fond smile with a weak one. "Emotionally, yes. I feel like I am dying."

Taehyung's smile only dips some, but his eyes remain just as bright. "Trauma tends to make us feel heavy or a little numb, but it will all pass."

"I don't want that," you bite back, feeling a burst of annoyance. "I just want to live a normal fucking life. How hard is that?"

This time, when Taehyung laughs, the sound is deep, playful, and perhaps a little mocking. "What the fuck is a normal life?" he asks, sounding just a bit defensive. 

"I don't know," you admit. "Something that does not involve gunfire and hard drugs. I can't keep watching men die. And I can't keep watching as my loved one get injured."

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes drift up and widen. His posture shifts, sitting up only slightly taller, and you hesitate before turning, scared of who you might find. 

"Knock, knock," Namjoon calls, and your heart kicks up hard and fast between your ribs. 

All trepidation you may have felt about seeing him melts, and you throw your legs to the floor and stand-spin with such a start it makes you dizzy. Namjoon stands in the doorway with a loving smile, wearing a black tee tucked into black jeans—surprisingly casual, considering he seems to have come from an important meeting. His hands, which are in his front pockets, slide out, and he lifts his arms high, asking without words for a hug. 

You run over on bare feet and hop up, throwing yourself into Namjoon's chest as your arms wrap around his neck. He bends and holds you in a tight, firm hug, groaning softly against your forehead as he squeezes and releases. 

"Moments away from you always feel like a lifetime," Namjoon utters softly, tugging at your heart and ripping the air from your lungs. You wish he wouldn't say shit like this. 

"I missed you too," is all you can bring yourself to say, and as he releases from the hug, you slide your hands to his chest, gently grip at his shirt, and bury your face against him, breathing in his scent and blocking out the rest of the world. 

The way Namjoon rubs his hands over your shoulders and arms, giving gentle squeezes, feels like gestures of impatience and makes you think he would like you to stop this sorry attempt at an embrace, but you hold on tight and close your eyes even tighter, silently insisting on just a little while longer. 

"Are you watching Princess Mononoke?" Namjoon asks over your head, resting his chin against you. 

"Watching is a strong word," Taehyung responds in the teasing tone you have come to expect but have not heard from him yet today. "Doll was mostly sitting here being sulky."

"Wow!" you respond defensively, finally releasing your hold on Namjoon to turn and glare at your so-called friend who stares back with a wide, playful grin. 

Gently, Namjoon places the side of his finger under your chin and motions for you to turn to him. "There you are," he utters sweetly as you meet his gaze.

Your heart sinks as you take in his sweet, welcoming expression. Namjoon, standing here like this, is the epitome of love, and all you can think about is how badly you need to get away from the lifestyle he is a part of before you have to watch another one of your closest friends get shot. 

Namjoon's smile falters, and he cocks his head so slightly, it is hardly a movement. Anguish rises, and you swallow it down, then make your best attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," you utter weakly, nibbling on the inside of your lip as you attempt to sort out what exactly you want to apologize for this time. "I, uh…I don't feel very good. I don't want to…I'm scared to…"

See Yoongi. 

No matter how many ways you attempt to formulate precisely how you feel, there is no way to finish that sentence, and you close your eyes in time for tears to break. 

How many more times are you going to feel hopeless and sad over Yoongi? How many times will Namjoon have to console the two of you? You are certain that the two of them—that everyone in this family—would be better off if you were not here. Clearly, this lifestyle does not affect them the way it does you, and there will only be so much that they will be able to tolerate until you become more of a burden than you are worth. 

"Don't want to, what?" Namjoon asks gently, hands rubbing from the tops of your shoulders down to your elbows and back up. 

"What if he hates me?" you mutter, tears becoming hot streams pouring down your cheeks. 

Namjoon chuckles, and you frown; now is not the time for him to be making fun of you. But his voice is soft and kind as he asks, "Sweetheart, how many times are we going to have to go over this?"

Although you know his question comes with good intentions, it only makes you feel worse. Because yes, indeed, how many times are the three of you going to have to go over this? How many times is Yoongi's lifestyle going to cause crushing grief and sadness? How many fucking times are you going to have to fear facing him? 

It's not fair. None of this is fair. 

"Yoongi is not upset with you, or with me," Namjoon insists. "So we gave him a little cut, so what? He already has plenty of scars."

"That's not—" the point, you fail to say. "I don't want—how can I look at him knowing I've given him a scar?"

Bile rises, and you feel sick. All you can picture is blood seeping from between Yoongi's fingers, blood splattering against concrete, blood staining all of your hopes and dreams a deep, menacing red. 

Taking two steps back and spinning to rejoin Taehyung on the couch, the blood seems to leave your head, causing you to wobble on your feet and crash back against Namjoon. The room is stilted and tilts to a fro, and you swallow a lump, closing your eyes tight while two warm hands steady you by the arms.

"Sweetheart?" Namjoon asks, but his voice is too distant, and although you know that he is directly behind you, holding onto you, you fear that if you responded, he would be too far away to hear you. 

Firmly, Taehyung says your first name, hand holding your jaw at an upward angle while your limbs sink heavily into the couch. When did you approach the couch?

"I'm gonna…" you mutter, mouth dry and full of cotton, body feeling a million miles away from your head as you feel the urge to faint. You attempt to look around, but light and shadow only trail and smudge uselessly. You feel like you are going to be sick, and you squeeze your eyes closed.

When you open your eyes again, you are lying on the couch, on your back. Your lower legs are propped up by pillows, and a violent shiver rocks through you.

"Ah, here you are," Taehyung says, and you turn to find him sitting on the floor beside you. His kind, disarming smile returns as he says, "You fainted, buttercup. How are you feeling?"

Sweat covers you from head to toe, making you cold and clammy and uncomfortable. "Shitty," you reply. 

"Hmm, yes, fainting takes a toll on the entire body. But at least you are shitty and alert." Taehyung holds up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Your voice is rough as you croak, "Three."

"Very good," Taehyung responds, reaching to give your cheek a tiny pinch, which you attempt to flinch away from. 

It occurs to you only now that you neither see nor hear Namjoon. When you look around for him, Taehyung softly clears his throat, pulling your attention back to find him frowning. 

"They left the room."

"They…" you begin, watching as Taehyung tongues the inside of his mouth.

"Namjoon seems to think you don't want to see Yoongi. And Yoongi…well, he's not too pleased."

"Oh."

Taehyung sits up a little higher on his knees, and in a rare moment of uncertainty, he knits his brow. "What I mean to say is, his feelings were hurt. But he isn't angry."

"No, no," you mutter, rolling onto your side and pulling your knees as high as they can go. "I get it."

"The thing is," Taehyung continues, "Yoongi has to leave town for a little while."

At this, you flinch, attempting to quickly sit up. "Wait, where? For how long?"

"He didn't say."

Although you know Yoongi is not present in this room, you look around and ask, "Has he left already?"

Taehyung frowns once more. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so."

Everything is happening too quickly, and you brace yourself to get your bearings and steady your pounding heart as you slowly stand from the couch onto your feet. Taehyung raises and holds his hands out as an offer to assist, should you need it. 

"You good?" he asks, and although you do not feel a modicum of anything you would consider good, you nod and slowly turn toward the door. 

And then you run. Your feet are sweaty and they slide against the floor, but you push forward as hard as you can, ignoring the whorl of nausea in your guts. Once at the door, you shove at it with all your strength, and when it flies open, revealing Yoongi and Namjoon standing close, muttering sweetly, you gasp; you were not expecting to find the two of them this easily. 

Namjoon stands to the left, gently cradling Yoongi's chin with both hands, and Yoongi stares up at him, hands lifted to Namjoon's sides. In contrast to Namjoon's more casual attire, Yoongi is in his usual black button-up and black slacks. 

You mutter, "Yoo—" and halt in place when he turns his attention to you, smile faltering as his one visible eye holds you in its gaze. 

Although Yoongi's hair is down and wild, you can see the black eyepatch covering his other eye. Above the patch are little black stitches that rise up to his forehead, and you worry you might faint once more. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, dropping his arms from Namjoon's sides to fully face you. 

Namjoon's hands only fall to Yoongi's shoulders, and the look he gives you is indiscernible and a little cold. You feel childish and small standing before them in Hoseok's pajamas, which are a little too big.

"I'm sorry," is all you can say as your right leg twitches in an attempt to continue forward, held back by the full-body weight of your fear. 

"I'm so glad you're awake," Yoongi says as he smiles. The ends of his mouth flinch twice, and you wonder just how forced his smile is. "Taehyung said you fainted."

You hum and nod in quick, shallow movements. All you want to do, in this moment, is run. Run toward Yoongi, but also run far, far away, and never look back—run and run until your lungs threaten to explode. But you stand paralyzed in the doorway of Yoongi's bedroom, staring at the two men who seem intent on keeping their distance.

"Where are you going?" you manage to ask, swallowing a ball of saliva and anxiety. 

Yoongi hesitates, and as Namjoon drops his arms from his shoulders, Yoongi straightens his posture and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

When was the last time Yoongi has held this much distance? When has Yoongi been this reserved and shut away? You regret not wanting to see him before, and now that he is holding so much space between the two of you, you cannot, for the life of you, move your feet forward. 

"I have important business," Yoongi simply says, licking his lips and saying no more. 

"Ah—are you…will you be gone long?" you try, chest trembling and terrified. 

Yoongi merely shrugs. "Hard to say."

"Oh."

Yoongi stares a moment longer, back tall and straight and hands tucked away. The hair on the left side of his face falls slightly over his eye, encasing the eyepatch in a dark shadow, making him appear far more dangerous than he already is. 

And then, as if a switch is flipped, his shoulders relax, his smile softens, and he pulls his hands from his pockets. You let out a deep, shaky exhale and silently beg him to step toward you. 

"I'll miss you," you try, knitting your brows in desperation. 

Yoongi smiles widely and finally takes a step. "I will miss you, as well," he says as he closes the distance, and all at once, your legs turn to gelatin and wobble beneath you before stepping forward. 

You all but throw yourself into Yoongi's embrace, body sagging and crashing into him as he wraps his arms around you, pinning yours uselessly to your sides. Yoongi's musk is strong and overwhelming, and you nuzzle against his chest and neck, breathing deeply enough to choke on it. 

"I'm sorry," you mutter into him, feeling tears well once more. "I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

Yoongi whispers, "Shhh," as his hands rub over your back, and you lift your hands just enough to let your fingers catch at the fabric around his hips. 

"I'm sorry I have to leave so abruptly," Yoongi says, "but the guys here will take good care of you. I shouldn't be long."

"Please be safe," you beg, horrified of what could happen to him while he is away. 

"I have a team coming along to look after me," Yoongi says. "But I can assure you, I will be fine. I can't say much for now, but I will be meeting with the Hong Kong crew, and we will be working on a deal of sorts so that an attack like that will not happen again."

"A deal? In…in Hong Kong?" 

Yoongi releases the hug and takes a small step back, then lifts one hand to the bottom of your chin. Looking up into his one eye makes your heart squeeze, but even with an eyepatch covering the other, he is the prettiest man alive. 

"Please don't beat yourself up with worry while I'm away," he mutters sweetly. "I'm not upset with you. Had I gotten to that man before you, I would have done far worse to him for hurting one of my best friends. And besides," Yoongi chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side, "this is going to make for an amazing story when Jimin wakes up."

"Stop," you grumble, lifting your hands to shove at Yoongi's sides, but not hard enough to make him do more than sway. 

"You are so brave," Yoongi says, smile widening. "You shot that man right between the eyes. And I know it had to have been traumatic and horrendous, but I'm still proud of you."

As it stands, watching the man who hurt Jimin die by your bullet is so low on the list of traumatic events that play through your mind. Perhaps you have compartmentalized the event, and once the dust settles and Jimin wakes back up, you will begin to fully process the weight of the event. Or, perhaps you are already becoming as numb to being a killer as the rest of the family. 

"Did it hurt?" you ask, feeling the urge to lift the patch and see his wound.

Yoongi shrugs. "Nah, my adrenaline was so high, I didn't feel a thing. I had no idea I was cut until the blood began to cloud my vision."

The thought of Yoongi's beautiful face dripping with blood makes your stomach churn, and you mutter, "Oh my god."

"It only hurt a little while Tae was stitching me up."

"Why the eyepatch?" you ask, despite feeling nervous to know the answer. But you were told that Yoongi's vision had not been altered.

"Taehyung felt that the stitches along my eyebrow and lid would heal faster if my eye remained closed as often as possible."

Again, your stomach tosses. Did he say lid? As in his eyelid?

"Oh."

"And it makes me look cool, right?" Yoongi adds, waggling his one good eye, making you laugh despite how sad the entire situation feels. "Don't worry, darling. I couldn't dream of being upset with you two."

You exhale deeply and wrap your arms around Yoongi's ribs, throwing yourself once more into his chest. Yoongi chuckles deeply and drapes his arms over you, cradling your head and shoulder gently in his large, warm, familiar hands. 

"I won't be gone long," Yoongi insists, pressing a kiss against your temple. "But I will miss you deeply while I am away. So please text me as much as you want to, alright?"

"Alright," you respond, feeling tears build once more. Yoongi insists he will return safely but you fear for the worst; how could you not?

"Seokjin and Hoseok will be coming with me, which leaves Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jeongguk here with you. We have shut down Paradise for the time being, and there will be a strong security detail on the property, but don't feel like you have to stay cooped up inside. The streets of Seoul are safe."

"Hmm," you utter, finding it hard to believe him. But you do not press him. Yoongi said he would reveal more about what deal he has struck once he returns home. 

A single-note ringtone chimes loudly, and Yoongi lets out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

"That's Seokjin," Namjoon says, and you remember that Namjoon has been standing here the entire time, causing guilt to pang within your guts. 

"Time to go," Yoongi mutters sadly against your temple, attempting to pull from the hug, only for you to squeeze tighter. Yoongi chuckles as he adds, "I'll be home before you know it."

"I miss you," you complain, overwhelmed with sadness. You are so sick and fucking tired of crying, but more than that, you are tired of missing Yoongi.

This time, when Yoongi pulls away, you allow it, tilting your head to slot your lips together. Yoongi holds steady against you, kissing slow and sweet and only skirting his tongue across your bottom lip after several long, warm seconds. You sigh, dropping your mouth open, but Yoongi kisses your temple and backs up further, giving your arms a squeeze before releasing you. 

"I love you, darling," he says, and your heart sinks as you all but whisper, "I love you, too."

Yoongi spins on his feet and takes two steps to Namjoon, giving him a chaste kiss and muttering something deep and indiscernible. Namjoon responds with, "Of course, baby," and then Yoongi leaves, taking the steps two at a time without turning back. 

Something feels off, but you are too exhausted to dwell on it, so you turn your attention to the man who is still around, stepping forward and reaching for him. Only Namjoon takes a step back, halting your movements as he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. 

"Sorry," he says, eyes on the floor and not on you. "I just need a moment. I'll be back."

Without another word, Namjoon runs down the stairs, and you watch as he disappears around the banister, toward the front door. Your right arm is slightly lifted, hovering near the empty space Namjoon had just occupied. 

As the seconds tick by, you struggle to fully comprehend what is happening. Clearly, both Yoongi and Namjoon are upset about something, whether that upset is directed at you or not, and they are not doing the best job of convincing you that things are fine. And, truth be told, you do not need everything to be completely fine. But you expect them to be honest with you, or at the very least, to not shut you out. 

Your hand drops to your side, and you spin on the balls of your feet, listlessly allowing your arms to fan out in the motion, making your way back to Yoongi's bedroom. Rather than return to Taehyung and Princess Mononoke, you hang a left toward the large window that overlooks the front driveway. 

Standing forehead to forehead, Namjoon's face is angled just slightly, looking down at Yoongi, whose expression is somewhat unreadable with his eyepatch. He appears to be smiling as they kiss, and the urge to cry increases. You remind yourself that the two of them share a past and that they deserve tender moments without your presence, despite how badly you wish to be included. 

"Everything alright?" Taehyung calls, and you sniffle, blinking away the tears that threaten to break. 

As you turn to face him, you take a deep, fortifying breath and nod, doing your best to smile. Your had been balling your fists inside the long sleeves of the pajama shirt, and you open and close them, wiggling your fingers as if attempting to release tension from your limbs. 

"I guess so," you admit, not fully willing to say yes or no.

"I imagine Namjoon is trying to convince Yoongi that he should go along," Taehyung says. "He always does."

"Ah," you respond; that does make sense.

"The two of them used to be inseparable and now Namjoon seems to get separation anxiety easily."

You begin to return to the couch, feeling somewhat lighter. Of course, Namjoon would want to join Yoongi on whatever this trip is; it sounds like it might be a big deal. "He should go."

Taehyung hums and regards you quietly, then pats the cushion where you had been previously sitting before he returns to watching the movie. With a little more pep in your step, you join him, plopping down on the couch as you sigh and swing your legs up to the left so you can lean your head against his shoulder. 

Although you watch the screen, nothing fully registers. Only Taehyung's warmth and gentle musk hit your senses and linger. Briefly, you even close your eyes. 

Outside, vehicle doors shut, and the metal gate scrapes open. Moments later, two heavy feet stomp up the stairs and into the bedroom. You keep your head on Taehyung's shoulder but open your eyes, watching a confrontation between the two lead characters on screen while Namjoon comes into view in your periphery. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, and you shrug, offering a brief smile while you say, "Sure."

Namjoon walks in front of the television, rounding the small wooden table in front of the sofa, then plops down at Taehyung's right. Although you keep your eyes ahead, gaze barely on the actual movie, you can see and feel Taehyung lifting his arm and shifting his legs to accommodate Namjoon curling up to his side. 

"How did I get stuck with the children?" he teases as his left arm gently wraps around your hip. 

You smile, unable to hold back a little chuckle. "Pure luck, obviously."

"What's the other child up to, today?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung asks, "Jeongguk?" and Namjoon hums. 

"He's become obsessed with working out again."

"He doesn't wanna join us?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung sighs. "He likely will eventually, but I think he's struggling to deal with everything that has happened. With Jimin in a coma and Paradise temporarily closed, he feels directionless. And, of course, he worries about Jimin." Taehyung squeezes your side as he adds, "He also feels guilty for taking his anger out on you that night."

Jeongguk undoubtedly did appear angry, but considering the circumstances, you can hardly say you blame him. You suppose you are willing to accept that Jeongguk may not be upset with you.

"I get it," you mutter, letting your gaze drop to the wall below the television. "I don't think any of us were in our right minds."

Seconds pass, then Taehyung quietly adds, "He will be very happy to know how you feel."

As the three of you sit and watch the film, your eyelids grow heavy, and it takes almost no time at all for you to fall back asleep.

The events of last night play in your mind once more, and as soon as the man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell, you flinch awake, gasping for air. As the room comes into focus, you realize you are lying on the large sofa with Namjoon, who is behind you with his head propped up onto his hand, watching television. You sigh into wakefulness, heavy-blinking and yawning, and Namjoon pauses whatever drama he has put on and gently wraps an arm over your hip. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says just above your ear, and you groan as you stretch your legs out, then begin to wiggle around until you are facing him. 

Namjoon still wears the black tee, and you reach up and gently trace along the exposed skin of his bicep with your fingertips, playing with the hem of his sleeve. 

"What time is it?" you ask, staring up into Namjoon's warm, dark eyes. 

"Evening," he responds, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. "You knocked out."

"Did Taehyung go home?"

Namjoon nods, humming, "Mmhmm. Christopher wanted to meet with him, and check in on Jeongguk."

"Surprised I slept that long," you grumble, feeling another yawn work its way through your chest. "I keep dreaming about last night."

"Taehyung mentioned he would speak with Christopher about sleep aids. I am always happy to supply Xanax if needed."

Although you are unsure whether you want to create a dependence on Xanax to get you through the night, the prospect of getting restful, dreamless sleep is wonderful. 

"That would be nice," you say, burying your face against Namjoon's chest. 

You half expect Namjoon to continue watching his show, but silence hangs as he settles his head down onto a pillow and wraps both arms around you with the bottom one sliding under your neck. 

"Sorry if I seemed a little cold earlier," Namjoon finally says. "Letting Yoongi leave on his own when we are in the midst of a showdown between both families is just…a lot. I know he's a grown adult and can take care of himself, but I also hate not being able to be there."

Just as Taehyung had said.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Namjoon seems to hesitate and then says, “He asked me to stay with you.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mean to suggest that I don’t want to be here with you,” Namjoon adds quickly, and although you believe him, it is clear that he would rather be by Yoongi’s side. 

“I get it,” you say, feeling no need for Namjoon to explain himself. “But you could have gone with him,” you add, feeling Namjoon stiffen. 

The air feels tense and awkward, but you make no move to give either of you space. Even if Namjoon would rather be comforting Yoongi, you still crave his warmth. 

“I guess what I mean to say,” you continue, “is that I have the others here, too. Of course, nobody compares to you and Yoongi, but if you need to be by his side, I’m happy here with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Don’t feel obligated to babysit me.”

Namjoon scoots back, and you look up to find a somewhat angry, sad expression on his face. "Why would you say it like that?"

Without thinking, you roll your eyes, watching as his eyes go wider before you add, "You know what I meant."

"You think that the only reason I am here is because I feel the need to coddle you?"

Your patience is wearing thin, and despite finally getting a little sleep, you feel far too tired to be bickering with him over something like this. 

"Namjoon—"

"No, don't Namjoon me. I'm not your fucking babysitter, I'm your partner. I'm here with you because I enjoy being with you."

"You're here with me because Yoongi asked you to be," you clarify, speaking from his earlier words. "Which is fine, I don't mind that being the case. But if you're going to be miserable with worry, you may as well have joined him."

Namjoon sighs and begins to pull away entirely in an attempt to sit up. Feeling resolved, you slightly roll away, giving him space to do so. You are not, however, willing to let him walk away before you are done speaking your mind. 

"It's fine if you want to go with him, and I don't understand why you chose not to. You and Yoongi have a history, and I get that. Not everything you do will include me."

Namjoon sits sideways with his legs outstretched because you have not bothered to move in any way that will actually allow him to escape easily. You prop your head up on your hand with your elbow bent against the pillow and watch as Namjoon's expression oscillates from frustrated to contemplative. 

Finally, Namjoon speaks up, voice sounding small as he says, "If you don't want me around, just say so."

At this you huff, drop your hand and head to the pillow, and begin to roll away, letting your leg drape over the edge of the couch before you steady yourself enough to sit up. Namjoon has not moved, and you are in no mood to face him. It feels like anything you say will be bent to suit whatever this emotional streak of Namjoon's is, and you do not have the energy to play along. 

But then petulance rises, and you stare at the dark blue fabric of the sofa beneath you as you say, "I wanted you around last night. And Yoongi. But I was shut out, and now he's gone."

"Sweetheart—" Namjoon begins, and you shove what is left of the cream-colored blanket that covers your legs, eager to get it the fuck off you as you stand and disregard him.

"I don't want to talk anymore," you grumble as you make your way to the ensuite. 

You never bothered to wash your face or tend to your hair after last night, and you decide in this moment that you would like to shower. For all you know, the blood of some unknown dead man could be on you. 

To your surprise, Namjoon says nothing. You don't bother closing the door behind you as you begin to strip from your borrowed black pajamas and find a fluffy white towel which you hang on a hook beside the shower door. Not bothering to close this door either, you walk to the back wall of the shower and turn it on, feeling a cold blast of water that quickly turns scathing hot before you turn the nob and make it a more reasonable hot.

Although your movements are slow, you take care of your hair and wash your body, standing still periodically with your face tilted up to let the water rinse over you. You know that whatever this tiff you have with Namjoon is, you will need to talk about it at some point. You just wish that things could be calm and easy, in the meantime. After last night, you desperately need things to be calm and easy. 

Finally, when you are just about to shut the water off and get out, you hear a belt buckle hitting the tile floor, followed by a quieter sound of a soft garment being dropped alongside it. Your pulse quickens, but you do your best to seem unaffected by Namjoon's presence—at least until you are able to gauge what kind of a mood he is in. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft and calm—deep.

You turn just enough to find him standing in the doorway nude, and you rove your eyes down past his pecs and tummy—along the curves and scales of his dragon tattoo—to his glorious thighs and the thick cock that hangs heavy between them.

"Be my guest," you respond with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as you turn back to the stream of water.

Namjoon enters and begins to wash his hair. He uses the tangerine shampoo that reminds you of Yoongi, then he slathers a cloth with the same citrus floral soap that also reminds you of Yoongi. You have no reason to linger in the shower, but Namjoon is close, the steam filling the room leaves you a bit dizzy, and you are touch-starved. 

"Baby," you mutter, turning to lean your back against the cool tile wall and get out of the hot stream of water. 

Namjoon is washing his legs, bent in half, and he looks up with wide eyes. There are so many things you want to say and ask for and command, but all that falls from your lips is, "I miss you."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then he bends further to finish washing his ankles and one foot after the other. And then he straightens out, chucks the cloth to the side, and steps forward, into the stream of water, pausing a moment to rinse. 

"I miss you, too," he says with his eyes closed and face tilted up against the stream, rubbing his hands over his hair and causing a waterfall of suds to cascade over him. 

Feeling overcome with emotion and resolved to put whatever transpired earlier behind you, for the sake of your sanity if nothing more, you reach out toward Namjoon, who is close enough that you are able to graze your fingertips over his tummy. 

"Let's just…not argue, okay?" you practically plead. "We've both been through a lot. We need each other."

Namjoon continues to rinse off a moment longer, then he steps through the stream and looms over you, dripping wet with a blazing fire in his dark eyes. His voice is deep and insistent as he says, "You have me, sweetheart."

"Dizzy," you mutter, reaching to trace your fingertips listlessly over his skin. "Let's get out."

Namjoon nods and shuts the water off, then he leans in close and presses his body against yours, capturing your lips with his. When was the last time you and Namjoon kissed? It feels like a lifetime ago, despite it probably only being last night, and you sigh into the feeling, overcome with a surge of affection. 

His movements are languid and firm, pressing and claiming but in no hurry. You grab Namjoon's ribs with both palms and gently squeeze at his skin and muscle, rubbing slowly, allowing your eyes to flutter closed. 

As soon as all you see is darkness, the images return in quick, nauseating succession. A man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell and another from your bullets, turning into red and brown and greyish-pink mush against concrete. Blood seeps from between Yoongi's fingers, and you gasp, opening your eyes and mouth wide as your hands hover at Namjoon's sides. 

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm sorry," you sob, hot tears pouring from your eyes as the black and gold bathroom returns to view and Namjoon's dripping wet honey skin greets you. "I can't—every time I close my eyes, I see—I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Namjoon whispers, wrapping his arms around your head and shoulders and pulling you close, engulfing you in wet warmth. "It's okay, don't apologize."

"I feel like I'm going insane. I can't keep reliving this."

"Want me to call Christopher?"

You nod as you sob, holding Namjoon close and doing your best to keep your eyes open. 

"Let's get out of here and put some clean clothes on."

Namjoon's hands slowly caress over your back and shoulders, and you allow yourself to breathe into the feeling and relax. You have tensed up so much that your shoulders are raised high, and you inhale deeply, attempting to calm your nerves and work up the energy to leave the bathroom. 

"Okay," you finally breathe, sniffling and taking deep, slow breaths. "Yeah, let's go."

Slowly, steadily, you are able to leave the shower with one of Namjoon's arms holding firmly around your waist. He towels you off, kneeling on the rug and tile floor, making sure to get every last drop, and then he wraps his clean towel over your shoulders and uses yours to very quickly dry himself. 

His phone is sitting on the countertop beside the sink, and he picks it up, thumbs around for a moment, and then takes your hand to lead you out into the bedroom and into Yoongi's closet. By the time the two of you are dressed, the doorbell rings. 

"I'm going to go answer that," Namjoon says, turning his body fully toward you and taking your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, and although you mostly feel emotionally drained, his touch is nice. "Do you want to meet on the couch in here, or the one downstairs?"

"In here," you respond automatically, disinterested in fussing with the stairs or sitting in the huge, empty main hall of Yoongi's home.

"Alright," Namjoon says. "Go have a seat and we'll be right back." 

The world tilts ever so slightly as you move from the closet to the couch. The cream-colored blanket hangs halfway to the floor, and you bend to lift it and drape it over your legs, holding it close to your chest once you sit. Perhaps this is an unprofessional way to meet with the family psychiatrist, but you care more about your comfort than his, if you are being honest. 

Moments later, a man dressed in family blacks enters the room with a bow, greeting you warmly. Although Namjoon enters with him, he leaves almost instantly, insisting that he will be right outside if anyone needs him. 

You feel nervous to talk to Christopher, but he has a kind smile and soft giggle, and he speaks with an accented lilt that reminds you of Felix, instantly easing you into conversation. And even though you are nervous about this process and what it may entail, you do your best, if only for the sake of getting some goddamn sleeping pills. 

Kitten: Landed in Hong Kong. How is my darling?

You: I miss you a lot. It feels like I hardly saw you before you left. 

Kitten: I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I will be home in a few days.

You: I look forward to it. I spoke to Christopher earlier and he recommended an antidepressant to help me sleep.

Kitten: Have you been having nightmares?

You: Yeah, he says it's PTSD. It's been really bad. Even when I close my eyes while fully awake, I see flashes of what happened. I just want to stop remembering. 

Kitten: I know what you mean. I'm glad you are taking healthier steps toward blocking those memories than I have, in the past. 

You: Yeah, well, I have Namjoon's Xanax supply on standby, just in case. 

Kitten: Good, good. Is Namjoon there? I want to give him a call. I would like to hear your voice, too.

You: He's here, watching over my shoulder like a needy little hawk. Please call before he drives me insane. 

Kitten: :] Will do, darling. Just give me a few minutes. 

You are in Seungri's penthouse once again, only as soon as you get into his bedroom with the glass of whiskey in hand, it is Yoongi who slaps you across the face and commands you to get undressed. 

Your empty hand twitches above your thigh, itching to grab for the switchblade, and Yoongi's hand lingers over your cheek, thumb pulling down on your lip. 

“Have I said something to anger you?” you ask, and Yoongi laughs as he drops his hand to his side. 

“You no longer fear me,” he drawls as he turns back to his drink and grabs onto the glass with his lithe, pretty fingers, repeating the words Seungri once said. “Used to be I could put a little scare into you, but now you stand your ground. I like that about you.”

Yoongi skips all the chit-chat that Seungri usually dives into and instead downs his drink and begins to undress. His scars shine brightly when hit by the golden light of the room—his bedroom—and you undress without removing the blade from your thigh or trying to conceal it at all. 

“What a pretty girl,” Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

You step aside and pat the bed—Yoongi's bed—with your hand, purring, “Hop up, sir.”

Yoongi is hard and leaking, cock pointing to the heavens as he settles against his black and gold comforter, and you get up onto the bed and seat yourself in one swift movement, pressing him so deep into you that a shiver works its way along your spine. 

Slowly, you rock your hips, reaching with both hands to drag your fingertips over the scars closest to his heart. "Pretty," you moan as your blunt fingernails turn sharp as talons and catch on the raised skin. 

Then, in a flash, you reach up and slash over Yoongi's eye, quick as a serpent and sharp as glass. Yoongi groans and writhes beneath you, and you—somehow holding your switchblade—continue to fuck him hard and fast while you press the tip of the blade deep into his skin and drag it down over his eyelid, to the apple of his pretty cheek. 

"Mine," you snarl like a beast, thumbing over the pooled blood and smearing it over his face, watching as it mats in his hair. "Forever mine."

You wake up gasping, covered in sweat and stuck in place under warm, heavy limbs. It is still dark outside, and as you pant and attempt to sit up, Namjoon groans and slowly twists away, removing the weight that holds you down. 

"Fuck," you mutter, frustrated. You had taken one of the pills Christopher prescribed and it made you somewhat loopy and very tired—a promising prospect, at the time. 

Namjoon lifts an arm and points to the bedside table to your left, grumbling something incomprehensible before his breathing returns to light snores, and you turn to find two boxes sitting next to a tall glass of water. First, you grab your box of medication and put it back. Then you grab the other, made out to Namjoon, and you pull out a packet and rip it open, freeing one large white pill and gulping it down with a mouthful of water. 

Rather than lying back down to sleep, you roll back toward Namjoon and begin to shimmy down into the sheet, yanking his legs to spread and crawling between them. You can still feel Yoongi inside you from the dream, and you want Namjoon in your mouth now, before you lose your mind. 

Namjoon hums and yawns as you paw at his semi-soft cock, and once he cracks an eye open and moans his consent, you yank his briefs away and swallow him down into your throat, eagerly sucking and stretching your lips, moaning and humming as he trembles and groans beneath you. 

With eager hands, Namjoon yanks at your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside before gripping at your shoulders and arms in what feels like an attempt to get you to stop sucking his cock.

"Fuck me," he begs, and you do as you are told, grinning with drool-slick lips as you crawl and crash into him, needing to be held up while you angle his tip just right and begin to fuck yourself on him. 

The stretch is so intense, you shiver and fall forward, palms sliding against his sweat-slicked chest and gripping onto the pillow beside his head. Namjoon takes your hips in both hands and begins to fuck upward, holding you in place to use as you bob and moan like a marionette built only for pleasure. 

Namjoon changes positions and holds you tight, fucking you from behind while you lie half on your back and half on your side. By the time you cum, you are dizzy and sinking deep into a drug-induced fog, lulled by the feeling of lips and warm breath against your neck. 

"Don't stop," you mutter as you slip from consciousness, just as eager for Namjoon to cum but unable to hold on and see to it that he does. Although you think his movements have halted and he has repositioned you to rest against his chest, you could also be imagining it as everything fades to black. 

"I wonder how Jeongguk is doing," you mutter, holding your steaming cup of tea to your lips and staring out the bedroom's back window. Namjoon has purchased two new chairs that match the couch because last night, you said you wanted to be able to look out at the gardens.

"Ask him," Namjoon responds somewhat flatly. 

When you look at Namjoon, his brow is knit, and he stares out the window as if he is looking at nothing. He spaces out like this from time to time, and although you are curious about what is on his mind, you feel a bit too disconnected to ask. The antidepressants work wonders for your anxiety and post-traumatic stress symptoms, but they are also anti many other things, including happiness and concern. Christopher insists you need a few weeks to a month to adjust. 

"Fine," you respond with a sigh, disinterested in talking to Namjoon if he is going to be so short with you. 

You pick up your phone, which you keep nearby at all times in case Yoongi reaches out, and you dial Jeongguk's number. The last time the two of you spoke was the night you sliced your boyfriend's pretty face open, and although you are somewhat nervous to hear his voice, you try not to overthink it. 

Jeongguk picks up on the second ring, and you can hear him panting as he says, "Doll. Hey."

"Hi," you respond, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, your mouth feels really dry. "Am I interrupting anything?"

There is a pause, and you hear the bubbling sound of him drinking from a water bottle, followed by a low Ahhh. "Nah, just working out. But I could take a break. Do you need something?"

"No," you clear your throat and sit up, repositioning your legs on the large blue chair. To your right, Namjoon sighs and gets up. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't spoken since the—"

"Right," Jeongguk interrupts, voice low and rough. "Listen, I'm sorry for—"

Disinterested in apologies, you mutter, "No, it's fine. I get it."

Silence hangs. You want to see Jeongguk again. You want to ask him to come over, maybe ask whether he would like to take a walk through the garden or drive into town for some ice cream. You miss his smell and the way his eyes brighten up like tiny galaxies when he smiles nice and big.

"Do you—" you begin just as Jeongguk says, "Hey, so, I was thinking—" and you both stop, chuckling and waiting for the other to speak. 

"Go ahead," you urge him. 

Jeongguk hesitates, then says, "I don't even know. If I finish that sentence, I will probably regret it the moment the words come out of my mouth."

You glance over your shoulder when you hear the sound of a belt being buckled and find Namjoon getting dressed in blue jeans and a tan sweatshirt near the closet. He keeps his eyes down as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and does not say a word as he turns and leaves the room. 

"Just tell me," you respond, eyes on Namjoon's retreating form. 

"I was going to say that I think we should spend some time apart," Jeongguk says, voice sounding somewhat sad.

Your chest clenches, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs, returning your gaze to the window. "Oh."

"But even as I say it, I don't believe it. I would sprint over and see you right now if you asked me to. I miss you all the time."

This makes you feel shy, and you nibble your lip. "It's only been a couple days."

"A couple of really shitty days," Jeongguk responds, to which you scoff. "This isn't a conversation to have over the phone, but, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say what you did when Jimin was injured…it was pretty incredible. And mildly horrifying. And really fucking sexy. All accidents aside."

This makes you laugh, and you stare out the window, at the familiar statues, fountains, and trees. You think about how easy it would be for Jeongguk to come see you, and you almost beg him to. 

"I miss you too," you finally say, feeling a lightness in your chest that hasn't been there for days. "I wasn't planning on telling you that, because I didn't want to inflate your ego, but that is the reason I called."

"Come see me tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks, voice high and hopeful.

"What happened to spending time apart?" you tease.

Jeongguk chuckles. "I told you my conviction is shit. I fucking miss you, alright. Don't make me say it again."

You would love to see Jeongguk. "Alright. Any particular time?"

"Nah," he responds easily. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Okay."

The deep, sultry tone you know all too well returns when he says, "Wear something slutty," and your cheeks warm instantly. 

"Jeon Jeongguk!"

"Come on, doll. It's been almost a fucking week. I need that pussy."

How easily Jeongguk cycles through his moods gives you whiplash, and you shake your head, chuckling quietly. "Forget I said I miss you. I take it all back."

"Nah," he teases, "you miss me."

With a sigh and a smile, you mutter, "Thank you," feeling a fuzzy warmth in your chest. 

You think you hear Jeongguk scoff. "For what?"

Namjoon comes into view outside, walking along the rightmost garden path. His steps are slow and meandering, legs swinging and kicking at gravel, and his left hand is in his jeans pocket while he holds his phone to his ear with his right hand. 

"For making me smile," you respond, feeling a sadness that is hard to pinpoint as you watch Namjoon. "It hasn't been easy."

"Namjoon hyung not keeping you company?"

Namjoon turns to the left and crouches down in front of a rosebush, tilting his head and smiling as he speaks into the phone. It is a smile that reaches his eyes and, even from afar, the prettiest you have seen in days. 

"Nah," you sigh. "Namjoon's in his emo era. I think he regrets staying with me while Yoongi is away."

"Don't put it that way," Jeongguk interjects, and you are quick to say, "I get it. It's fine. I can't have the same history they do, especially not overnight. But it's hard, you know? We both have this gaping wound from missing the same person—worrying over the same person. And instead of turning to one another for peace, we're growing sick of each other."

"There is no way in hell the Kim Namjoon I know is sick of you; he loves the shit out of you. But the love he has for Yoongi is going to be a little different. I have definitely seen the way he shuts down when forced to worry from a distance."

You hum, watching as Namjoon glances up to the window. Although you have no idea whether he can see you, you stare back, hoping that he can. And then his eyes squeeze closed as he laughs and spins on his heels, making his way toward the hedge maze. 

"I miss him and I spend every day at his side."

Jeongguk hums. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

"I started medication, too," you continue, rambling somewhat because it is nice to have someone to talk to. "And it's been great to stop feeling so anxious all the time, but I also feel kind of numb."

"How's your sex drive?"

You scoff, shaking your head. "God, why is that your first concern?"

Jeongguk laughs. "Look, I've heard that it can be a side effect!"

"You're so fucking annoying."

"Well?"

"I don't know," you respond somewhat petulantly. "I guess I have an okay sex drive, but it's hard to gauge when the person I would be having sex with is being so distant."

"Fair. Well, we'll have to test it tomorrow if you're up for it."

Another scoff rocks through your chest, and you shake your head at his audacity. "Fine. If I'm up for it, we'll test it."

"Good."

With a sigh, you decide you have nothing more to talk about. You still don't really know Jeongguk very well in terms of his hobbies or interests, and you have no clue what else you could discuss casually as friends. "I'm going to let you go. Maybe I'll see what my emo Joon is doing in the garden."

"Sounds good," Jeongguk says. "Call me whenever you're up for it, and come by tomorrow if you want to."

"Okay," you smile, biting your lip. "I will."

You: I took a nap today and dreamt Namjoon became a forest sprite, and that he lived in a big, sturdy tree. These medications make my dreams super vivid and strange. 

Kitten: That sounds like our Namjoon! :] What about the nightmares? Are they helping with that?

You: For the most part. But sometimes one sneaks in.

Kitten:  Well, I'm glad you are finding at least a little relief, darling.

You: Talk soon? I miss your voice.

Kitten: I'll call tonight. 

Namjoon gives up trying to get you to do anything for the rest of the night, frustrated by how intent you are on keeping your phone clenched in your hand with the ringer turned high. You check the screen periodically to see what time it is, and eventually fall asleep on the couch, clutching your phone to your chest, waiting for Yoongi to call. 

When the morning comes, you wake up and check your phone, feeling an instant surge of sadness from the lack of notification. All you want is to hear his voice for five minutes, but you are afraid to initiate a call in case he is busy. You're afraid of getting in the way or being annoying. So you wait. 

You: You never called. :( I hope to hear from you today, if you have time.

"You should try to eat something."

Slowly, your eyes blink from your phone to the bowl of fruit in front of you, to Namjoon. He sits across from you on the bed cross-legged with a wooden tray of breakfast foods between you. You hardly remember him bringing it into the room or sitting in front of it, and you really have no appetite, but you lift a cube of watermelon to your mouth just to appease him. 

"Not hungry," you mutter as you wrap your lips around the fruit and bite. It is far too sweet, but it is also refreshing, so you chew and swallow, then reach for another. 

Namjoon sighs, making you feel inexplicably worse. "Is it the medication?"

With a shrug, you stare ahead at the various cubes of melon and the plain omelet that has undoubtedly gone cold. "I guess. It's everything."

"Yoongi?"

You hum. "And you. You're distant. It sucks."

"I know," Namjoon responds somberly. "But so are you."

"Yeah."

Slowly, you lift a piece of melon to your mouth, stopping as your phone dings.

Kitten: Sorry, darling. Been busy. Talk soon! 

With a frown, you pop the fruit into your mouth, slowly chewing as you type your response.

You:  Are you coming home soon?

Then you fall back onto the mattress with your legs bent and feet planted. You should probably let Jeongguk know that you aren't in the mood to hang out today. 

You: Namjoon says the meetings are going well and that the deal is looking good. I hope this means you'll be coming home soon. 

More than a few days pass in a fog. The medication has you feeling so disoriented some days, that all you do is sleep. And when you sleep you dream. 

Sometimes, you are in a library, but it bends and twists and becomes shaped like the many mansions you have spent time in over the years. Men who have used and harmed you in the past are there, always attempting to win you back and claim you for themselves, always chasing you through rows and rows of bookshelves, and you are always searching desperately for Yoongi. 

The worst dream that comes is one wherein Yoongi is dead. News breaks that his body has washed up in the Han, and before he can even be buried, Ryujin and Hyungseo are at the front door surrounded by men strapped with guns, pulling heavy suitcases behind them, moving their things into the master bedroom and throwing your belongings out the windows. 

But at least you no longer dream about the night Jimin was shot. You no longer watch Yoongi bleed. At least you can be thankful for a little reprieve. If only Yoongi would answer your messages, maybe you would stop worrying so fucking much about him. Maybe you would stop searching endlessly for him.

You barely register Namjoon's face buried between your thighs as you stare at the ceiling, feeling the Xanax sink in deep. Tonight, you want dreamless sleep for a change. You just want to forget about Yoongi, and about everything else. 

Namjoon's tongue is skilled and brilliant, but it does not make you cum. You warned him going into this that there was a chance it wouldn't happen, and he happily agreed to try, anyway. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, the vastness of the bedroom feels suffocating. It is too big for three people, much less two. It is especially far too big to be in when you are already feeling lonely. 

"Baby, I don't think I'm gonna cum," you groan, reaching for his head and gripping gently with your fingers. 

Namjoon's lips and tongue slow and then stop, sucking loudly at your clit and labia before letting you go with a wet smack. 

"It's alright," he insists. "Just wanted to try."

Without another word, Namjoon shuffles out from between your legs and lies beside you, turning to face away. You sigh, curve toward Namjoon's back, and grip your pillow tight beneath your head, eager for sleep. 

Sitting on the large blue chair by the window, you stare at your phone, trying to decide whether today is the day you finally see your friend. There is no reason to hesitate to call him, and yet, you do. 

"I should see what Jeongguk is up to," you mutter, mostly to yourself. 

Namjoon sighs and snaps the book in his hands shut, then he turns to you with a frown. "All you do is talk about him, so just go see him, already."

His candor surprises you, and you exhale deeply, feeling a heavy weight pressing on your shoulders. "Are you mad that I want to see him?"

"No. I'm just tired of hearing about it."

He definitely sounds mad. 

"Okay," you respond, disappointed. "I won't talk about it anymore."

As you get up from the chair and walk away from the large window and the sunshine it allows in, you have half a mind to go into your room and change into something pretty to go frolic in the gardens by yourself. It has been far too long since you have left the house. 

So you pad out into the mezzanine, doing your best to ignore how huge and quiet and empty the mansion feels, and you make your way to your bedroom. 

Although it is not your intention, you shove the door closed, slamming it rather loudly. Then you spin on the balls of your feet, walk over to the bed, and fling yourself down onto the yellow and white comforter, deciding a nap sounds good. 

You wake up to the sounds of car doors closing outside and the front door opening and shutting, muttering, "Yoongi!" to yourself. 

Unsure how or when you managed to get into bed in the master suite, you toss aside your concern and the black and gold comforter and roll out of bed, feet hitting the soft, light blue rug. Although you are in a regrettable state, unsure when you last showered because you can barely keep your days straight anymore, you are undeterred as you run through the master suite, out into the mezzanine, and down the stairs, bare feet slapping against cold marble. 

As you fling yourself around the banister and continue toward the main hall, all you see are Namjoon and Seokjin standing in the entrance, and you halt, body swaying forward before tensing. 

"Yoongi?" you ask, unable to form a single other coherent thought. 

Seokjin smiles sadly and approaches with his hands in his black slack pockets, and you feel nausea hit your guts like a brick. "Can we have a word?" he asks, holding his arm out, hand extended toward the back door. 

You glance over your shoulder, feeling uncertain; does he mean to go out by the pool?

"S-sure," you say, willing your feet to move but finding you are unable to as your gaze finds Namjoon, dressed once more in blue jeans and a soft sweater, typing into his phone with a frown. 

"Yoongi decided he needed to stay put a little while longer," Seokjin says lowly, still holding his hand out. "Mind if we step outside?"

"Outside," you mutter, nodding your head robotically as you turn and face the back doors. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Seokjin takes the lead and approaches the sliding glass door, unlocking it and pulling it open. It is strange to enter the pool area with it empty of an employee, and you step out onto the rough gunite and pad over to the nearest pool beds. 

The sun is bright, the birds are chirping, and you feel extremely on edge, finding that every minuscule sight and sound has your shoulders lifting higher and higher toward your ears. So when Seokjin sits before you, pulls a flask from his breast pocket, and hands it over, you quickly take it, drinking from it without bothering to ask what is inside and wincing slightly as bitter, semi-sweet whiskey hits your tongue.

You sigh through the intense flavor as you hand the flask back, asking, "Why didn't he come home?"

Seokjin takes a slow swig and says, "That is a question I am not quite sure I have an answer to. I can only surmise the reason based on the behavior I witnessed him exhibiting during our stay."

"Which is…?" you attempt to lead Seokjin to tell you before you lose your cool. Seokjin is far too calm, sitting in his standard black uniform with his outgrown, dark hair pulled delicately off his forehead. 

"Which is that he began quite optimistic, daresay, happy at times, only to self-isolate and become very quiet. We were meant to leave days ago, but he kept stating he wanted to stay and 'figure it out,' whatever that meant. When I decided I could no longer stay, he wished me farewell and refused to explain what was on his mind."

"And the deal?" 

Seokjin stares for a moment, then leans forward, offering you the flask, which you take. "Has he told you anything about it?"

You shake your head, lifting the flask toward your lips, pausing to say, "He said he would tell me about it when he came back."

"Hmm, well, then I suppose I can tell you that the meeting went well."

The whiskey is not entirely unwelcoming, but the headiness is somewhat overwhelming. You hand the flask back to Seokjin, waiting for him to continue. He takes a swig and holds the flask in his grasp, resting his hands against his thigh. 

"Hyungseo has agreed to a truce, and her group will no longer be bothering any of us. Ryujin has also agreed to the truce, since it is still largely her family in charge, even if she has allowed Hyungseo to take over. As far as the details, well…I would rather let Yoongi explain."

Although this is good news, you feel strange about what Seokjin is telling you. Were Hyungseo and Ryujin in Hong Kong, as well? Could they still be there? When you blurt the questions out, Seokjin snickers and shakes his head. 

"The ladies were present for our discussion, but, as far as I know, they both returned home days ago."

You wonder if that could be the reason for Yoongi's sour mood. Perhaps seeing Ryujin still affects him. The prospect makes you feel sick. 

"I feel like there is a lot of context I am missing here," you grumble.

"There is," Seokjin responds simply. Then he sits forward, resting his wrists against his knees. "You know, the offer to work for them in Busan stands. In fact, you could be a huge asset for us, since we need someone there making sure they aren't conspiring in spite of our agreement."

"I…don't know," you say. 

"Well, give it some thought," Seokjin responds in a chipper tone, taking one more sip from his flask and holding it out for you. 

You shake your head and hold your hand up, muttering, "Thanks."

"Seems you could use a bit of a vacation, if I may be so bold as to say so. Six months on the coast might do you some good."

"Just getting accustomed to new medications," you grumble, unsure why you bother telling him any of this, in the first place. 

Seokjin hums. "Yes, that process can be a bit disorienting. Try to remember to drink water and eat, even if it suppresses your appetite. We don't need you withering away."

You nod listlessly, barely listening to Seokjin, asking, "Do you think he's coming home soon?" before you can stop yourself. 

"Likely," Seokjin responds with a sigh as he stands. "It's hard to say with Yoongi. Once he gets in his head, there is no telling when he will come out."

"And if he doesn't?"

The sun is bright behind Seokjin when you look up at him, and you lift your hand to block the rays from your eyes, squinting. 

"If he doesn't come home, then perhaps you and Namjoon will have to go and get him."

If there is anyone in this family willing to get onto a plane and head for Hong Kong at a moment's notice, you are sure it is Namjoon. "Okay," you mutter, dropping your hand and your gaze, feeling tired and a bit empty. 

"Take care little wolf cub," Seokjin says as he turns to return inside, and you nod listlessly as you shift around on the pool bed and curl in on yourself, chasing the urge to sleep.

Tonight, even the Xanax does nothing to keep your nightmares at bay, and when you wake up screaming from the sight of the man's head exploding, you find the bed empty, causing your pulse to spike. 

You glance around, find the room empty, and then reach for your phone. Your heart sinks when you see a notification from Namjoon and none from Yoongi, and you heavy-blink, thumbing over your bright screen to open and read the text.

Joonbug: Sorry if you wake up and I'm not there. I'm having a hard time sleeping and didn't want to keep you up, so I walked home. I'll be back in the morning. <3 Call me if you need anything.

Truthfully, you find it hard to blame Namjoon. Twice, you startled him with your screaming, and he has been complaining lately about struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep. Plus, he has been seeking a lot more alone time. 

You: Woke up screaming again, so you made the right call by leaving. 

You half expect Namjoon to already be asleep, noticing it is just before two in the morning. So when he begins to type, you are surprised. 

Joonbug: Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Want me to come back?

On one hand, you think it would be nice to have someone around. But on the other hand, you are not sure it is Namjoon's attention that you crave. Although you love him dearly, the two of you seem to be on different planes of existence lately. Ships passing quietly in the night, both emotionally and physically. Spending too much time together right now might do more harm than good. 

First, you dial Yoongi. Hearing his voice would do wonders for your emotional state, and he is the first person you want to talk to about what has been on your mind. But the phone rings and rings, and eventually goes to voicemail. "This is Min," the somewhat robotic tone of your boyfriend's voice says—disconnected and not meant solely for you the way you need his voice to sound. "Leave a message."

You hang up and hover your thumbs over your screen, attempting to gather your thoughts. Yoongi is unreachable, and Namjoon is distant, but perhaps Jeongguk is free. 

Jeongguk answers on the third ring, "Hey, doll? Late night booty call?" 

You graze your teeth over your lip, laughing as you say, "Maybe. Would you be into that?"

A scoff followed by, "Fuck yes I would be!" makes you smile widely. Then he adds, "Lemme just run it by Tae, alright?"

"Of course," you respond, realizing you should probably also discuss it with Namjoon. "Otherwise, we could just…I don't know…get fucked up? Even Xanax isn't cutting these nightmares and I just wanna get out of my head for a while."

"I can definitely help you with that," Jeongguk responds happily. "Lemme text you in just a minute, okay? After I speak with Tae?"

"Sounds good."

Jeongguk hangs up, and you smile to yourself, opening your neglected conversation with Namjoon. 

You: Actually, I was thinking about finally hanging out with Jeongguk. Kinda just want to get drunk, maybe get a little high. I need to get out of my head. As long as you don't mind.

Joonbug: Understandable. I hope you don't think you have to ask me for permission. I definitely want you to feel free to go spend time with him and have some fun. 

You: If things get a little heated, though…are you okay with that?

Joonbug: If what you need right now is to fuck Jeongguk, I fully support that.

You: Thanks, Joonbug. <3 I love you!

Joonbug: I love you too, sweetheart.

Gguk: Tae is down with whatever we feel like doing. Come to mine? Do you remember how?

You: Joon gave me his blessing, too. :) I think I remember.

Gguk: On second thought, stay put, and I'll come get you. It's dark out. 

You: Sounds good. I'll put on something slutty in the meantime. 

Gguk: Oh, fuck yeah! Be there soon!

Thankful that you had the energy to shower before your several failed attempts at sleeping earlier, you jump out of bed and run to your bedroom. Hanging amongst the sundresses is a little black satin slip dress with spaghetti straps and lace along the edges, and you peel off Namjoon's oversized dark grey tee and toss it to the floor. 

The dress fits snugly, squeezing your breasts and waist, creating inviting curves and cleavage, and you opt not to wear any panties underneath as you marvel at the high slit up your right thigh. 

You apply a little eye makeup, both because it feels like it has been a lifetime since you have looked in the mirror and liked what you have seen, but also because you like the thought of it streaking down your face later, should Jeongguk find some delicious reason to make you cry.

Once you are satisfied, you begin to make your way out to the mezzanine, and you are surprised to find Jeongguk standing at the foot of the stairs; you didn't hear him come in. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, feeling your heart pound as his lips pull into a hungry grin. He wears a white tee and black basketball shorts, and his short dark hair is unstyled and a little disheveled. You stare at him, unsure whether he is real. How long has it been since the two of you crossed paths? Far too long. 

"Dollface," Jeongguk groans, toying with his lip ring in his teeth. "God damn you look amazing."

As you reach for the railing and begin down the cold marble stairs, you feel a slight tremble in your limbs. Jeongguk watches you like a predator eyeing his prey, and you have forgotten what it feels like to be caught in a stare this hungry. 

"How do you feel about doing some molly?" he asks when you are halfway downstairs, and you hesitate, cocking your head to the side. 

"I don't know. What does it feel like?"

"Euphoric. Calming. Mixed with coke, it'll really wake you up and make you feel alive."

That does sound good, and you smile. "Alright. I'm down."

"I was thinking we could break into the pool bar and chase it down with some champagne, then walk over to my place?"

"Alright," you respond as you reach the last step, standing at eye level with him. 

Jeongguk reaches for your thighs, rubbing his hand up the sides, and you wiggle away in part because his gentle touch tickles, but also to keep him from discovering that you are not wearing any panties. If he finds out this early on, the two of you will never make it back to his place, and you are curious to see how he lives. 

As you side-step and scurry down to the landing, Jeongguk complains but obliges, turning on slippered feet and walking ahead to deal with the glass door. You are barefoot, and you tiptoe on the rough ground as Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and opens a mini fridge. 

"Bingo," he sing-songs, holding up two bottles of champagne with a wide grin, as if the task took any effort at all. Still, you clap excitedly for him as he rounds the bar with both bottles in hand. 

"I bet this dress would look great soaking wet," Jeongguk says, eyeing you once more like a ravenous beast while making his way to the nearest table. 

He plops down sideways on one of the pool beds and sets the bottles down, then pats his leg for you to join him. You make your way over and sit gingerly on his knee, keeping your legs closed and avoiding the urge to straddle him while he works one of the bottle corks open. 

"Let's keep the dress dry, for now," you bargain, reaching up to rub your fingertips along the undercut just above his ear.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip while pulling out the cork, and when it comes loose with a loud pop, he opens his mouth wide, then grins. With one hand, he holds up the bottle and fishes into his pocket with the other. Then he pulls out a little clear baggie with six tiny capsules full of purple dust. 

"They're pretty small portions, so you can get a feel for it," he says as he hands the baggie to you and you begin to work its tiny plastic zipper open. "If it feels good and you want more, we can take more."

"Okay," you mutter somewhat nervously as you reach out and take a tiny capsule in your fingertips. 

"Ahhh," Jeongguk exclaims, and you look up to find his mouth open wide and tongue hanging open. 

Although you know he is asking for a pill, you lean in close and lick the length of his tongue nice and slow, marveling at the way his taste buds feel. Then you lift the pill and place it right in the center, watching as he seems to struggle to comprehend what just happened. 

With a giggle, you say, "Go on…swallow like a good boy," and Jeongguk takes a long swig from the champagne and then fixes you with a curious gaze. 

"Your turn, beautiful," Jeongguk says, making your cheeks blaze. "Be good for me and swallow. Or are you more of a spitter?"

Jeongguk's predictability is a perfect match for how corny he is, but although you roll your eyes, you lean close and ask, "Aren't you eager to find out?"

"Of course I am," he mutters, a hairswidth from your lips, and you turn your head just far enough to the side to pop one of the molly capsules onto your tongue. 

Jeongguk lifts the champagne and says, "Open for me, doll," and you tilt your head and part your lips, nervous but excited for him to pour champagne into your mouth. 

You expect him to make a mess, so when it spills over past your lips, you simply swallow what has been poured into your mouth and roll with it. Jeongguk licks from your chin to the crease of your lips, making an even wetter mess than the dribbled champagne, and you giggle as you attempt to stand from his lap, only to be held in place. 

"Not so fast," he says as he digs through his shorts pocket and holds up his little metal cocaine vial. "It'll take a little bit for the drugs to kick in and I want my senses heightened now."

"Oh?" you ask, cocking your head as you watch him scoop a considerable pile to snort into one nostril, followed by a second pile into the other. Jeongguk sighs and tips his head back, pressing the side of his knuckle against each nostril as he deeply sniffs inward once more, then he fixes you with a wide smile and offers you the cocaine. 

You trade him, handing off the little baggie of molly capsules, and in swift movements, you take the little metal vial with a spoon attached to its cap, and you snort a small pile into each nostril, then hand it back. As you press against the side of each nostril with your knuckle and inhale, Jeongguk watches you with eyes already somewhat glazed over, and you stand from his lap, smoothing out your tiny dress. 

"Eager to get away from here?" Jeongguk asks, gaze downturned slightly. 

With a shrug, you glance around and realize that yes, you really are eager to get away, at least for a little while. "I guess so. I've been cooped up."

"Alright," Jeongguk says, reaching for your hand. You take it, then grab the unopened bottle of champagne in the other. "Let's get out of here."

Jeongguk is careful and meticulous in the way he locks up the back door, then he takes your hand again to walk through the main hall, to the front door. He slides out of Yoongi's slippers and into some sandals, and you put on the pair of black ballet flats. 

Once outside, Jeongguk closes and checks the door, then he takes your hand once again and leads you around to the left, toward Seokjin's place. The night is so quiet you hear the sounds of crickets in the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot. 

Jeongguk sighs and squeezes your hand, and you hum questionably, squeezing his back.

"Nothing," he says, turning to look at you. The path opens near Seokjin's home, and the two of you hang a left and continue along the side of the house to the back, where more trees separate each property. "I guess I'm just surprised sometimes."

"By what?" you ask, turning to look at Jeongguk, who turns to meet your gaze. The cocaine buzzes through your system while a nasty little drip can be tasted at the back of your throat.

"By you."

You scoff, feeling somewhat shy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you did hate me when we first met," Jeongguk begins. 

"Because you were an asshole," you add. 

"And…I don't know. I was surprised when Yoongi and Namjoon were so open to the idea of us. Even tonight, I expected hyung to say no and keep you all to himself."

"Ah," you mutter, eyes on the ground. You begin to walk between more dark trees, enshrouded by their shadows, and you feel grateful that Jeongguk came to get you so that you wouldn't be walking this path alone. "Namjoon and I have been kind of distant, so I'm not surprised."

"Still?" Jeongguk asks.

"Yeah. Still."

"Damn. That sucks."

It does suck, but you feel awkward talking about it. "It's whatever," you lie. "He wants space and went to his house tonight, which is why I called you. Didn't really want to be alone."

"So I'm second place, wow," Jeongguk teases, squeezing your hand.

"Third when Yoongi is around," you tease back, turning to flash a playful grin. 

The rest of the walk is quiet, and when you reach Jeongguk's home, you are a bit surprised by the number of sports cars in his driveway—four, to be exact. His house is a carbon copy of the others, but there is practically no greenery in the yard, only metal workout equipment, including a pull-up bar and some other items that are tough to make out in the dark. 

Jeongguk lets go of your hand as you approach the front entrance, and he punches in a long passcode before opening the door wide and nodding for you to enter. The living room light is already on, and as you toe out of your shoes, you find a scarcely decorated room with a couch pushed far too close to a television, and a punching bag sitting in the center of the space. 

You fail to bite back laughter, and when Jeongguk takes your hand and leads you up the stairs, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," you mutter, eyeing the empty walls that have never been painted from their original white. "Just didn't take you for such a bro."

"Shut up," Jeongguk gripes, yanking on your arm and making you laugh even harder. 

The upstairs hallway is just as plain, and as soon as he releases your hand and switches on the light, illuminating the bright white space, you squint and turn it off.

"I need fucking sunglasses if you're going to do that," you chide.

Jeongguk continues pulling you down to the room at the end of the hallway, making you wonder what might be in the other rooms. Does he have sex dungeons just like Taehyung? Perhaps a matching throne?

Rather than switching on the overhead light in his master suite, he thumbs around his phone and opens an app. "What color would her highness like the bedroom to be?" he asks with a grin, and you get onto your tiptoes to see the screen and then press where the color wheel is purple. 

Slowly, the lights come on in an inviting deep purple glow, and you nod approvingly, then enter the space. At least his bedroom is decorated with dark walls and bedding, and some photos hung here and there. 

The four-poster bed is straight ahead, and to the right are two large leather chairs. Along the far wall, beside a large window, is a big wooden x with leather restraints on each end—two for wrists and two for ankles, you surmise. 

As you step forward, your entire body feels a little off-kilter. It is slight but enough to make you dizzy, and you hold your arms out, clenching the bottle of champagne as you mutter, "Whoa."

"Starting to kick in?" Jeongguk asks as he walks past and sets his bottle on a bedside table. 

"Maybe," you respond, unsure what it feels like for the drug to kick in. 

Jeongguk approaches, takes the bottle from your hand, and you find yourself leaning and swaying slightly with each of his movements as if your body feels desperate for his warmth. 

"Will you kiss me?" you whine, watching as Jeongguk's mouth pulls into a dopey smile and then sharpens into something much cockier. 

He turns away to place the champagne bottle down, then returns in several large steps, taking you gently by the face with both hands and pressing his lips against yours. Jeongguk groans as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp. You let your mouth fall open wide, feeling excitement and arousal simmer through you, and Jeongguk licks across your tongue hungrily, moaning and growling as he tastes and teases. 

"Fuck," he pants as he releases the kiss, pressing his forehead into yours. "You are amazing. And I'm definitely coming up."

You feel tingly and electric, filled to the brim with desire and love and the need to touch and taste and enjoy. Jeongguk is warm and floral but musky, and he tastes like sour cocaine and bittersweet champagne. 

"Thirsty," you mutter as your lips chase after his.

Jeongguk kisses you more but walks you backward, toward the champagne. Rather than reach your target destination, his ass bumps into the edge of his bed, and you giggle into one another's mouths before you peel yourself away and reach for the open bottle. 

Suddenly, you feel as if you have run a marathon, and you have to stop and catch your breath. "I feel kind of overwhelmed," you admit, to which Jeongguk hums and says, "That's normal."

With the champagne in hand, Jeongguk leads you over to the large window at the far end of the room and opens it, letting in a nice cool breeze. The view is a massive, empty expanse of land with the city in the distance, and you stare across the shadows of trees and hills. 

"I feel trapped in limbo," you mutter, unsure why you are saying it aloud. 

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. When he asks, "Why is that?" his voice is soft and sweet. 

"I love Yoongi and Namjoon…and I care a lot about the rest of you," you turn your head, rubbing the tip of your nose against his, "especially you."

"But?"

With a sigh, you turn your gaze back to the dark outdoors. "But I don't feel safe, and I have to be heavily medicated just to sleep, now. I lost several days to the fog of starting a new medication, and both Yoongi and Namjoon are distant. I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers and it scares the shit out of me."

"Maybe you need to get away for a little while. Take a trip."

You hum and consider what he says, pushing out the thought of Seokjin's words from earlier, but then scoff, shaking your head. "Take a vacation just to return to a lifestyle of violence. I don't know, I mean, what's the point?"

"Seokjin hyung says they struck a deal with the girls in Busan. That will drastically cut back on the violence."

"But there are other families in Korea," you say without having too much evidence to back up your statement outside of comments here and there made by the men while in your presence over the many months you have been here. 

"Everyone else is neutral, and we do business with them from time to time. Our only adversaries are overseas, and it is not often that the yakuza comes to fuck with us."

A small comfort considering how quickly things could escalate, should they choose to hop on a ferry and start shit, but you accept it for now. This conversation feels too heavy, and you want to be light.

You do feel somewhat light, made of overcooked noodles, but also heavy and buoyant, and you sway your hips and close your eyes. "We need music."

"What kind of music?" Jeongguk asks, grabbing his phone and holding it out for you. 

"Anything," you mutter, "pick something."

After only a few seconds, soft R&B comes on, and the music surrounds you in a way that feels like speakers are placed along each inch of the room. You dip and sway a little deeper, following the music while dragging your ass over Jeongguk until he begins to hiss and grip at you. 

"Gonna make me hard dancing like this," he groans, nipping somewhat forcefully at your neck. 

"I think the pills have dulled my sex drive, just like you said," you complain as you lift the bottle of champagne and take a drink. The carbonation cloys your senses, but you are thirsty, and you continue drinking until you are forced to stop and take a deep breath. When you turn and hand off the bottle, Jeongguk's pupils are bloodshot, and he looks a bit sleepy. "I haven't been able to cum. It's making me lose my mind."

Jeongguk drops to his knees and sets down the bottle, and you lean back against the window, body angled with your pelvis outward, in his face. As he rubs his hands up your thighs, pushing your short black skirt higher, you watch as his eyes widen and mouth drops open. 

"No panties," Jeongguk muses, looking high as shit and happy as can be. When his gaze lifts and finds you, he shakes his head and heavy-blinks as he mutters, "You are fucking incredible."

Without another word, he sits high on his knees and licks over your cunt, sucking your clit between his lips before absolutely devouring you. The surge of pleasure that rocks through you causes you to tremble and jolt forward, and you splay your hands against the wall in an attempt to hold yourself steady. 

Jeongguk is sloppy yet practiced in the way he eats you, alternating wide, wet laps and quick little flicks of his tongue. He zeroes in on your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave through you, aided by the molly to feel better than anything has felt in days.

Although the pleasure is intense and enrapturing, your high builds and builds, only to plateau at a devastatingly high peak. You want to cum so badly, you begin grinding your pussy against Jeongguk's mouth and moaning loudly. Jeongguk grips onto your thighs and does his best to keep up with your movements, slurping and humming like a man enjoying his first meal after a long fast.

"Finger me, Jeongguk," you beg, desperate for release.

Jeongguk does as he is told, plunging his fingers hard and deep. He finds your sweet spot and fucks into it nice and fast, and that is all it takes to push you over the edge, spraying your release against his face and your thighs. Rather than slow or stop, he continues to finger fuck you while lapping at your clit, forcing you to cum once more, and you scream between deep gasps for air. 

Euphoria drowns you in its tidal wave, and you begin to spiral, suddenly needing to slow down and catch your breath. "Too much," you whimper as your knees buckle, and Jeongguk stops his movements and stands, caging you in against the window. 

"How do you feel?" he asks, pressing his lips against yours and filling your senses with your own tangy, heady taste and scent. 

"Great," you respond against him, then turn your head, still finding it hard to catch your breath. "But a little overwhelmed."

"You're probably still coming up, here," Jeongguk says, taking your hand and pulling you away from the wall while rubbing his mouth and chin clean with his forearm. It feels strange to walk, and you stumble a bit into him, leaning your weight against his chest. 

"Let's just slow dance a little," he suggests with a sweet smile, and you drape your arms around his shoulders, incapable of denying him anything. Jeongguk gently grabs your hips and begins to lead you right to left in a small circle. "How is this?"

"Nice," you sigh with a smile, resting your cheek against his chest. "Thank you."

You are unsure how long the two of you stay like this, but several songs cycle, and your high continues to build until it finally seems to even out. Although you feel less jittery and heavy-light, you still feel somewhat otherworldly, finding you have an overwhelming urge to divulge all your deepest secrets to him. Evidently, he feels the same.

"Do you think you could fall for someone like me?" Jeongguk asks, breaking a long silence and taking you by surprise. 

If you were sober, you would be absolutely panicking—possibly even running for the hills. But being this high, you simply shrug and say, "Of course, I could. Don't ask silly questions."

"Shit," he mutters, nuzzling his face against your neck as he chuckles, and you wonder if Jeon Jeongguk is actually shy? "That was too easy. And probably not something I should have asked."

You laugh as you hum and mutter, "Yeah, probably not. I don't think any good could come of us confessing those types of feelings to one another, all things considered."

"True," Jeongguk says, laughing as he stands straight and looks you in the eye. He is absolutely beaming as he says, "I'll just keep it to myself, then," and pretends to zip his lips shut.

The thought that Jeongguk could be confessing to something so large should horrify you, but all you can do is smile. You are too high and too happy to unpack anything of this magnitude right now. 

After another song, you feel the sudden, aching urge to tie Jeongguk to his bed and make him fall apart. And that is exactly what you ask him with your eyes wide and pleading. 

"Let me tie you to your bed and make you fall apart? Please?"

Jeongguk gasps and grins, nodding as he says, "There is nothing in this world I could want more."

You begin to paw at his shirt, lifting the bottom hem over his head and tossing it to the floor. Your eyes linger on the black shapes etched from his shoulder down to his fingers, then you continue the task at hand and reach for the waistline of his shorts. 

As the garment falls to the floor in a heavy thud, undoubtedly from his cell phone being in his pocket, Jeongguk steps backward, leaving it in a pile, and you realize he also wore nothing underneath his clothing. Jeongguk bends and fishes his coke vial out, then begins slowly backing between the large leather chairs toward his bed. 

"No panties," you tease, closing in on Jeongguk, who continues to walk backward toward his bed. You reach your fingertips out, dancing them over his inviting hip bones. "You are fucking incredible."

Jeongguk chuckles, fixing you with a shy smile that makes your heart melt. When the backs of his legs hit his bed, he lets out a little snort-laugh, and then he begins to unscrew his vial and sniff two piles of cocaine into each nostril. He hands the drugs to you, then he turns and begins to pull a strap out from under his mattress, which you are absolutely unsurprised to see. 

"There's one on each corner," he says, and you snort two little piles into each nostril, then close the vial tightly and toss it onto the comforter. You take the hint and round the end of the bed, fishing around for another strap, and when you find it, you pull it out, and set it on the corner of the mattress. 

As you move to the head of the bed and find the last strap, Jeongguk gets onto the mattress, on his hands and knees and crawls into the center. "Want me lying down or sitting up?" he asks, and you lick your lips before saying, "Lie down."

Jeongguk settles in the center and pulls his hands over his head, and you get onto the bed on your knees and begin to restrain him, starting with one wrist, and then leaning over him with your chest hanging in his face to restrain the other. 

To your surprise, the straps seem to be the perfect length to keep Jeongguk spread without there being much give. Once his ankles are in place, you crawl up to him and settle between his legs, bending close to breathe warmth against his hard, pretty cock. 

Jeongguk whimpers and writhes in his restraints, and you lean to the side, slowly dragging your lips over the soft, supple skin of his thigh. He smells musky and familiar in a way that clenches at your heart, and suddenly, the weight of his confession moments ago begins to sink and settle through you, digging its claws in deep. 

Do you think you could fall for someone like me? Asked so simply and casually, as if one asks about the weather. 

Perhaps it is the combination of substances working their way through your system, but you begin to feel claustrophobic and nauseous, and you squeeze your eyes closed. Something simmers and sticks in the back of your throat, and all you can do is gasp for air. 

"Doll?" Jeongguk asks, voice lilted with worry, and you swallow the lump and plaster on a smile, determined to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. You must do it; you need to.

"Just a little overwhelmed," you mutter, dragging your lips and teeth over the meat of his thigh, toward the musky shaved pubes at the base of his very inviting cock. 

You wet your lips and drag them up and down his shaft, flicking your tongue out to coat it in as much saliva as you can muster, but your mouth is fucking dry from the drugs, and it stresses you out. 

"Need the champagne," you whine as you sit up quickly and turn to hop-slide off the bed. 

But you may as well be landing on the moon as you teeter and sway and stumble. You hold your arms out somewhat for balance and struggle to remember just how gravity works as you get your footing and rush over to the neglected champagne bottle by the window. 

All the while, you attempt to pep talk yourself, chugging the tepid bittersweet liquid that is so heavily carbonated it fills your mouth like a gas, until you have no choice but to burp. And then you return to the bed, repeating in your head that this is something you want to do more than anything, and that it should be okay for you to love Jeongguk, if only for tonight. 

Tomorrow you can unpack it and spiral accordingly, but tonight, you need to just enjoy the ride. You want to enjoy the ride. 

Either Jeongguk can sense that something is off, or it is written clearly on your face, because his brows are knit, and his head is tilted upward as far as it can be with the restraints holding his arms splayed up and out. 

"You're so handsome," you slur as you approach the bed, and set the bottle down on the small table, then you grip onto the comforter with both fists and hoist yourself back up onto the mattress. You mean it when you ask, "How did I get this lucky?"

You straddle Jeongguk's chest and lean forward, giving him an eyeful of a glistening wet pussy that he can't reach with his hands or lips while you lean forward and swallow his cock whole. Your mouth is still a little too dry, so you press him in nice and deep, forcing yourself to slowly gag from lack of oxygen while saliva pools and pools under your tongue. 

"Fuck, holy shit, doll," Jeongguk whimpers from behind you, urging you on further. You suck his cock forcefully, desperate to milk him, and listen to him sob. Jeongguk is vocal, moaning and bleating and begging while he writhes in his restraints, hips bucking and trembling beneath you. 

You stick a finger into your mouth to wet it, then reach under Jeongguk's balls to rub little circles against his rim, and he loses it—yanking on the restraints while singing long, pretty notes of pleasure. 

Without warning, he cums in your mouth, and you gag, letting some of it hit your soft palate before dripping past your lips. But you swallow the rest, sucking on his tip and moaning while he shoots rope after rope onto the back of your tongue. 

"Holy fuck," Jeongguk sobs. "Oh my fucking god!" 

You feel elated and higher than before, humming and pleased with yourself for making him cum in what has felt like mere minutes. 

"Please let me taste you, noona," he begs, and you sit up slightly and back into his face, shoving your pussy and ass against his mouth and only giving him enough room to lick and suck desperately, but not enough room to breathe. 

When you move away, he whimpers, and you decide that you want to be even more high than you already are. The goal was to get fucked up and out of your head, and here you are, lodged so deep in your swirling thoughts that you fear you might just go mad. 

"Mind if I do more coke?" you ask as you crawl forward past Jeongguk's torso and settle haphazardly between his legs. The vial is right where you left it, and you reach for it before he can respond. 

You snort two little piles into each nostril—four total—and then screw the lid back on before tossing it aside and turning to face your prize. Jeongguk is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes blown wide as the heavens, and you reach for his half-hard cock and begin stroking it back to life. 

"Damn, it takes you no time at all to get hard again," you mutter with a smirk, falling slightly forward as you attempt to straddle and crawl up him. 

Jeongguk's expression is a mix of desire and concern, and when you finally have your hands planted on both sides of his head, you lean low and close, breasts spilling from your dress, as you take his bottom lip between his teeth and suck hard enough to make him shout.

"You really fucked me up with what you said," you chuckle against his lips, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. The overwhelm has returned, and you press your forehead against his, fighting for air. "Why did you—" you croak, suddenly overcome with the urge to sob. 

You do not want to fall for Jeongguk. You cannot do something so foolish.

Jeongguk struggles in his restraints, yanking his hands downward and attempting to sit up, but rather than help him, all you can do is lean into him and cry. Everything is so fucking messed up, and you need it to go back to normal. You cannot possibly stay with this family if things do not go back to some semblance of normal; being here and feeling so much worry and heartache is eating you alive. 

"Noona, undo my restraints," Jeongguk urges, yanking his wrists uselessly downward. They are only cloth straps held together by velcro, but the angle and distance of them make it hard for him to reach one hand with the other. 

Jeongguk struggles, and all you can do is sink further, burying your face into his neck while a never-ending stream of sadness pours from you. It feels strange to be this devastated because you also feel an outpouring of love and affection—happiness that is so strong and present, it fucking terrifies you. 

"I can't—" you sob, unsure what you are referring to, just certain that everything is too much and all of it needs to stop. 

"Dollface, hey," Jeongguk pleads before saying your first name, "please let me out of the restraints."

"Jeongguk," you whine, tears and snot coating your face, which smear onto his neck. "I can't do this anymore. I can't stand it."

Jeongguk groans and strains hard as he reaches to undo his wrists, and you cling to him as all the emotion drains from your face with loud heaving breaths and deep, rattling sobs. You hear the tearing of velcro, one after the other, and then Jeongguk wraps his arms tightly around you while sitting the two of you up, cradling you in between his thighs. 

"Oh, baby," he mutters lowly against your temple, hands and arms doing their best to comfort you while he gently rocks back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea the drugs would make you feel this way."

"I'm sorry," you whine, drawing out each syllable, feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed. The sweat on your skin has turned cold, and you shiver in his arms. "I feel really, really fucking happy too, but it just…I'm so scared, Jeongguk. I'm so fucking scared."

 “It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you,” Jeongguk says your name, placing a firm, slow kiss against your temple, making you shudder out a sob. “I’ll hold you until you feel better.”

You know that he is here for you—that he would hold you through absolutely anything. And that just adds to the ineffable pile of terrifying possibilities. 

“I’m too high to sleep,” you whimper, sniffling pathetically as your exhale shakes through your mouth. 

“Me too, baby, don’t worry,” Jeongguk chuckles, squeezing you tightly in his embrace. “I got you, don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

True to his word, Jeongguk does hold you until you feel better. For hours, you sit on his bed, muttering through half-truths about your fears and your loves, your hopes and your dreams. When you shower off the cold sweat, you lean into his chest, and when he dresses you in a sweatshirt and joggers that swallow you whole, he keeps at least one arm around you at all times.

As the sun rises high, you finally stop shivering from the comedown, Jeongguk carries you home on his back, and you smile as the sunlight warms your cheeks. The only time Jeongguk lets go of you is when you find Namjoon standing out by the front door, smoking a joint. 

Namjoon’s smile shines as bright as the early afternoon sun, and as you slide down Jeongguk’s back, setting your feet onto the ground, you run into Namjoon’s arms, throwing yourself into him, catching a whiff of welcoming musk and the skunky stench of weed. 

“Sweetheart, did the two of you have fun?”

You smile brightly and only half-lie when you say yes because, despite all the tears, your heart feels so full. 

“Thanks, Jeongguk,” you say as you release Namjoon and turn around. 

Jeongguk stares at the ground for a beat, then he looks up and smiles. There is an unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and you fight the urge to run back to him. 

“Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface,” he says with a wink, clearly doing his best to cover whatever else is going on in his mind. 

You watch as Jeongguk waves and spins on his heels, walking back to the gravel path. 

“You two are so cute,” Namjoon says sweetly as he engulfs you in a warm, familiar hug. 

"Is that so?" you ask as you spin in Namjoon’s hold and wrap your arms around his middle. 

He seems to have lightened up, and he hums in agreement, making you smile. You feel eager to enjoy your day with him. You have cried rivers in the past several days, and all you want is to breathe easily and feel happy. Even if someone important is missing. 

“I spoke to Yoongi,” Namjoon says, making you gasp and take a step back. His smile is soft and inviting, dimples creasing his cheeks with bloodshot eyes, and you stare expectedly. “What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?”

Frantically, you nod, feeling your heart boom in your chest. Namjoon takes one more drag of his withering joint and flicks it out into the driveway.

“He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person,” Namjoon says, eyes trailing left to right as if reading your face. “Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away.”

You wish you could believe him, but there is physical proof of something you have done to potentially make Yoongi want distance. But you smile and accept this explanation, for now. 

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon asks, releasing his hug, leaving just an arm around your waist. 

“Starving!” you exaggerate, feeling an empty pit grumbling where your stomach should be. 

The front door is propped open, and Namjoon kicks out of his slippers while you leave behind your ballet flats, then he leads you into the kitchen. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so i had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce. Does that sound good to you?”

You glance up with a grin and say, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon digs his fingers into your ribs, making you double over and squeal, grumbling about how he is not that bad of a cook. 

With your hands held high, you shout, “I submit! You’re an amazing cook!” while tears pool in your tired eyes. 

Namjoon halts his attack on your sides and ushers you along on wobbly legs to the kitchen. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" he asks brightly, tugging at the oversized hoodie near your ribs. 

You nod and look up at his bright, smiling face, basking in this moment of happiness. You tell yourself that, above all, you desperately need everything to work out and be okay, if only so that you can continue to have moments like these with the people you love. 

No matter what, things need to be okay. 

It's about time we get it straight Gimme a minute if it ain't too late It sounds about right, this can't be forced, babe 대충 무리였나봐, babe It shouldn't feel like this 애먼 기분만 해친 채 Hurts too much already 버티기가 이만큼 힘든데 Stay with me 'til the end of the day

Maybe we Could be Slow dancing Until the morning We could be romancing The night away

🎵 visit the playlist

a few little side notes: i didn't want to name what drug mc is taking because she's not having the best time, so i didn't want to stigmatize medication that anyone takes irl. like...we all know Xanax is used in wack/recreational ways, so that one feels ok to say by name, i guess?

anyway...the experiences mc has while on a cocktail of medications/drugs may not look the same as how your body may react to these, and that is okay. please do not bother me about how your experiences may differ with xanax and other medications, or molly and medications. (but for the sake of argument, i will say that sometimes when you do antidepressants and molly, the serotonin high hits too hard and fast and it can cause a very fast physical and emotional crash, which is why mc does not experience the pure euphoria that you might come to know and love from that drug.) it feels so weird to me when people hit me up to argue about this kind of stuff because everyone's bodies and brains are different, so please don't. this is a work of fiction above all else.

all that being said, i know i have said it before, but i will keep saying it: this story is sad, sad, sad from here on out. the overall end goal is something happy, but it won't feel that way for a while.

reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this site, but likes are also super appreciated!!! thank you for reading, i love you!!!

a namjoon pov scene takes place between this chapter and the next one, where he devises a plan to get Yoongi back and has a heart-to-heart with mc. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one!

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

[justoneday-namjoonii]

It burns, doesn't it? [Pt.22]

genre: mafia!au, angst

warnings: mature, mafia activity, illegal business activity, non-explicit sexual/sensual content, toxic relationships, mentions of drugs, smoking, m*rder, language, and suggestive language, an attempt at a slow burn. If this content could potentially trigger you, please proceed with caution or do not proceed♥️

pairing: jungkook x reader x (yoongi)

authors note: It has been a long time, but I'm back☺︎ will come back to edit this later ! Please see my master list for previous parts <3

word count: 6k+

summary: The mafia tore your life apart, if it wasn’t for your will to live, it would have taken you out a long time ago. After everything, the heartbreak, betrayal and lies, you’ve emerged with a purpose—you’re apart of a family now. They won’t let you lay down and die—no matter how much you want to

━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━ 

He was ripped from his sleep by the corrections officer who hated him the most. Couldn’t stand that attitude, that body full of ink and a grimace forever plastered on his boyish face.

“You have a meeting with your lawyer, get presentable,”

A few months ago, he would have shot back a snarky remark or maybe even stayed in bed. That rebellion simmered out not long ago, there’s not much fight left in him now. When he was let out, given a roommate, and left to socialize amongst the other inmates—he got into a bad fight. He took more damage than the other guy.

He found out that a notorious arms dealer was shot and killed. Word on the street is, it’s Jeon Jungkook’s fault.

Jungkook went into shock, numb. He got hit in the head so hard that he went unconscious. He would learn to be grateful for that state of unconsciousness. It was either that or erupting in a hysterical fit.

Now, sometimes he cries in his cell at night and sleeps all day. He never ate the provided meals before, but now, he at least picks at it. It’s evident in his just slightly hollowed cheeks, he’s lost some weight, 

He simply nods at the grumpy officer and drags himself up and out. This is not a reality he ever prepared himself to experience, he took his family for granted. Namjoon was there, he would always be there, that’s what he thought. He did not want to grieve here, not in this hell—maybe it’s what he deserves.

The officers take him to shower alone while the other inmates are still locked down, he’s become a sort of target. For his safety, this is what has to be done. He gets dressed in the same dingy outfit and they take him to the room.

Junghyun shortly after.

“Jungkook, are you okay? You look,” He scans him over, “not good—like shit to be honest.” Jungkook only glances up briefly.

“They told me you were in an altercation and got beat up pretty bad,” He takes a seat, eyes scanning him over, “Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” He mumbles.

“Alright,” He sighs, “Mr. Choi will be in soon, he thinks you have a good chance of getting out.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook calls him by his affection title for the first time in years, eyes trained on the table, “Don’t do this.”

“I’m going to help you, whether you think you deserve it or not, you’re my brother,”

The silence pangs, and Jungkook doesn’t even look up.

“Look,” He rests a hand on Jungkook’s bruised knuckles, “I just want to get you out of here, okay? And maybe we can find Kim Y/n-“

“Sorry I’m a bit late, had a few documents to submit,” The lawyer walks in with a nice suit and slicked back hair, “it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jeon,”

“Likewise,” Jungkook replies in a dull tone.

“First, let me ask you a few questions,” The lawyer takes a seat, snatching a few papers out of his briefcase before setting it aside, “I know you have mafia affiliation but to what extent?”

“What do you mean?”

“Could we say that you’re associated or an active member? And if so, how long?”

“I-…I don’t want to do this,” He stands to his feet, cuffed hands pushing him away from the table.

“Jungkook,” Junghyun gives the lawyer an apologetic expression as he goes to whisper something in Jungkook’s ear, “what is going on with you? He has to know these things so he can build your case.”

“I don’t care about the fucking case,” He grits his teeth, “whatever deal you’re trying to make with me, it’s gonna screw me over in the end, and you both know it,”

“Excuse me, but Jeon has a call,” one of the administrative officials peeks in.

“From who?” 

Both Jeon’s say in unison.

“He says he’s an uncle of yours.”

They look at one another, both their father was an only child and their mother had one sister. They don’t have an uncle.

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━≾ 

3 months ago

His hands fell from your face, leaving your skin bare to the cool air, “I need to get back out there.”

He steps away from you, unlocking the bathroom stall door. You place your hand over his larger hand before he can fully open the door.

“You probably shouldn’t be seen with me like this…” You trail off, not wanting to further explain. You look at him with weary eyes, and the idea of someone seeing you two walk out of the bathroom together crosses your mind. “I’ll stay-“

“I don’t care who sees us,” He corrects you without hesitation, “let’s go.”

He walks out anyway, leading you out of the cramped stall. The states you get churn your insides. You force yourself to ignore the curious stares from the women inside. No one pays you any mind once you leave the restroom. If anything, they act like they don’t you.

When the hostess notices Yoongi approach with you by his side, she opens the doors with much haste.

“We got the last bid, I went 5 over but it was worth it,” Taehyung is the first to speak and he glances at you. Yoongi nods, ensuring he sits beside you despite your stiff body language.

The night went on and you remained quiet.

Feelings of regret crept their way into your mind. You proclaimed your love to a man before, who said he would die for you, the man you once lived for. But you’re not bound to him anymore, it’s hard to get used to. He abandoned you, he made you feel like a liar—he was insecure, and so were you.

The drive back home was painfully awkward. You rode back with Yoongi and the consequences of your actions started to eat you alive. He won’t even look at you, it just embarrasses you further, forcing you to perseverate. 

"About earlier, in the bathroom," You begin, not prepared to say much more than that.

“It was just a kiss,” He speaks low, to keep this conversation from the driver, "don't look too deep into it."

“Ok…” You gaze out of the window, the engine and the occasional passing of streetlights distract you enough. ≿ ━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━≿

The house had fallen into a hush over the past few months, and security heightened significantly. More members were assigned as round-the-clock guards. They patrolled around with vigilant eyes, their fingers never far from the cold metal of their guns. 

Yet, amid this fortress-like home, you found peace. The house staff have embraced you as if you were a long-lost member of the family. They treat you too well, providing clean linens like a hotel, and tasty meals, making you feel like royalty.

Ayeong has especially made this transition easy, she's the reason you're able to get up every morning and find purpose in something. 

When you arrived at the estate, you grappled with a sense of loneliness and haunting thoughts. It was Ayeong's compassionate and motherly nature that extended a gentle hand to pull out of that dark place. 

With ample free time at your disposal, you found yourself shadowing her through the day, mainly in the kitchen. 

She listened to you, not out of pity, but because she wanted to know you. In the delicate ebb and flow of conversation, she provided insights into the complex dynamics of the household. Yet, the lessons extended far beyond cooking; they touched on life, love, and, most intriguingly, the enigmatic figure who led it all, Yoongi.

You’ve unintentionally given much of the kitchen staff a break, making yourself her designated sous chef. It’s been nostalgic to get scolded when you over-season the dish she left you alone with, to get praised when your spontaneous flavor combinations taste good. She’s warm with you, taking you in like a granddaughter.

“Oh wow, this is so good,” Boyoung, her 10-year-old grandson who accompanies her every now and then smiles brightly, “how can you cook so well? This is better than nanas!”

“Boyoung, don’t say that!” You laugh, a bit flustered, “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“But it’s true! It’s better-“

"Ok ok, thank you," You shake your head, "Go wash up and I’ll fix you a bowl before you go.”

“Ok!” He runs to the bathroom with haste.

Just as he runs out, Ayoung comes back into the kitchen. “Between you and I, that little boy is going to be spoiled rotten,”

“He won’t be a kid forever,” You stir the pot gently, “it’s ready by the way,”

“Perfect, I was just about to let Yoongi know,” She notices how you always look a bit disinterested at the mention of him, “maybe I can get him to eat outside of that cave of his for once, I swear he’s a spitting image of his father, bad habits and all,”

“Yeah,” You agree awkwardly, “well, I’ll go wash up and I’ll be back,”

“Could you let him know? Tell him he needs to come out, I’m not bringing it this time,” She shakes her head, adamant, “he needs to come up for air,” 

You grit your teeth, “You want me to tell him?”

Ayeong has tried to get you two alone for the last few weeks. She seems to want to see him loosen up a bit, the stress he’s under tends to pull him away from what’s good for him she says. But he hasn’t said more than a simple greeting. You haven’t pursued a conversation either, he’s been too busy. Uninterested in anything that could even be close to a distraction, that includes you.

“If you could, I need to make sure Boyoung washes up this time,” She walks off to the washroom, leaving you with that daunting task.

The leather office chair knows Yoongi better than anyone these days. He’s been buried deep in the contracts, numbers, and logistical crap. Hoseok normally does this but he’s out on a short leave, a family emergency. So he’s doing it all, taking it all on his shoulders—it hasn’t been easy.

A knock on the door takes him from his thoughts. 

“Come in,” he expects to see Ayeong so he only glances up briefly, but he does a double take. There you stand, stepping through the door, and he softens at the side of you.

“Hi,” 

“Hi,” He repeats, “is everything ok?”

“Yes, everything’s fine, dinner is ready,” 

He's still in a dress shirt but the tie is long gone, as well as a few buttons unclasped. You forget that despite the illegal discrepancies of this job, it's still a business, they have to look the part.

He fixates on you for a moment, this is the first time in a while that he’s just looked at you. That dress, one he hasn't seen in ages. Of all the things you could wear, he would have never expected to see this.

He's brought back to his childhood for a blink. When his father was happy to have a son, not just a successor.

His mother would put on this dress sometimes, his father said it brought out her eyes. This dress—he remembered her in it when they were happy. At this moment in time, he remembers what it was like to feel real happiness. 

"What?" You question, bringing attention to his gawking. 

"Thank you," He breathes out, eyes dipping down into his papers again, "can you ask her to bring-"

"You look tired," You cut him off, "You should come out and eat with us, it'll be nice, plus Ayeong said she won’t bring you anything if you don’t agree."

He cocks his head to the side. "Us?" 

"Her grandson, she had to watch him after school," You grin to yourself, "I'm surprised you didn't hear him running down the hall,”

"Right, right she told me about that," He sighs, glancing at the piles of paper that he'd rather not spend any more time with, "I'll join you, just let me close this up, I'll be out shortly."

"Alright," Your eyes brightened a bit and he could swear you were hiding excitement, "I'll let her know."

When you enter the kitchen, Ayeong notices your attempts at hiding a smile. “What did he say?”

"He'll be out shortly," You head to the sink to clean up the remaining few dishes, and that's when you notice her seating arrangements. 

"Ayeong, you only set the table for two?“

"I completely forgot! I have to take Boyoung to his mom, she won't be able to pick him up tonight,"

She planned this shit. You bite your inner cheek, keeping your irritated remark to yourself. "But I promised Boyoung he could have some of what I cooked, he's gonna be upset-"

"Already packed him a bowl," She definitely planned this, "I can't believe he agreed to come out, do you know how many times I asked him to come out of that stuffy office? He's as stubborn as a mule that one," She removes her apron, hanging with the others near the pantry, "I never thought it was possible—he must have a soft spot for you.”

Before you refute any of her nonsense, she's out the door with Boyoung waving goodbye with that adorable smile. 

"Sorry, it took me a minute," Yoongi appears around the corner with rolled-up sleeves, "everything smells great." He takes a look around, surprised to only see you, and only two seats set up at the dining table.

"Ayeong just took Boyoung home, she didn't tell me they weren't joining…” You try to hide your disappointment with a nonchalant tone, "if you want to take your plate I'll just eat in my room-"

"I don’t mind having dinner with you, I could honestly use the break from work,"

"Oh, ok…” You nod with a timid smile, "You can sit, I'll fix the plates,”

"You don't have to do that,"

"It’s alright," You persist, "I don’t mind,”

He does as he’s told and sits at the head of the table, patiently waiting for you.

“Here you go,” You sit his plate down after yours, “sir,” You joke, trying to lighten the mood, “is it weird that all of the staff call you that?” 

“No,” He looked amused, not expecting your playfulness, “it’s protocol, except for the elders of course,”

Quickly, you say your grace and take your first bite. It’s safe to say this is the best meal you’ve ever made. 

“Wow, this is good,” Yoongi takes another bite with furrowed brows, “what did she put in this?”

“I cooked,” You stammer a bit, “do you like it?”

“Did you?” He gives you a look of approval. “It’s good, better than Ayeong’s if I’m being honest, but don’t tell her I said that,” He makes a playfully serious expression, causing a genuine laugh to spill from your lips

“Thank you,” He can see the blush forming on your cheeks, you're grateful he doesn't bring attention to it, “I’ve been helping her for a few weeks, it’s been nice getting to know her,”

“She told me, you’ve been a nice change for her and the other staff,” He sets his fork down, “they’re happy to finally have a normal person to dote over,”

“Normal?”

“Oh, I guess I’m getting back to my normal self then,” You’re proud to say that out loud, there was a point where you never thought you’d say that.

“Your dress,” He comments on the last thing you thought he’d be interested in, “is it new?"

“Oh,” You subconsciously touch the fabric, “Ayeong told me I could pick something from one of the closets, was that ok?” 

“Of course, I only ask because- ” He stares at the necklace on your chest for a moment, his heart jolts, “it looks nice on you.”

“Thank you…” You blush, not having expected the compliment.

When Yoongi speaks, you’ve learned that his words are his true feelings. He doesn’t care to sugarcoat much and he doesn’t talk a lot, but what he does say is meaningful.

Dinner continued in comfortable silence. Surface conversation would come and go in between bites, keeping any awkwardness from settling. Soon, the plates were empty and before you could get up to take the dishes, one of the staff came by to take them during conversation. You furrow your brows, wanting to clean up after yourself.

‘Ana, I’ll get it-‘

“Miss, it’s my job,” She smiles, eyes pleasing for you to let this go, it looks good for her to be insisting in front of the boss anyway. You give in, not wanting to make her feel obsolete in front of Yoongi.

“The food was great and you were,” He pauses for a moment, “you were good company.” 

“You too,” You grin from ear to ear, “we’ll have to do this again,” 

“Definitely,” He offers a real smile before disappearing back to his cave.

As you make your way back to your bedroom, you’re met with the youngest of the housekeepers, Yaerim, Ayeong’s niece. She’s taking the rest of your dirty clothes from the bathroom basket. A task you’ve warned her to stop insisting on; it’s the least you can do.

“Oh, hi Y/n, I’ll be out of your way! I was just getting your clothes washed up.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” You exasperate, “if you show me how to use the washer, I can do it Yaerim,”

“With all due respect, the boss asked me to take care of you, so that’s what I’ll do,” She offers a kind smile, “I wouldn’t want to upset him, I’m fairly new so this is my first time meeting him…”

“He asked you to do this?…” 

She nods.

“You should have told me sooner, you don’t need to do this for me, I can do a lot for myself actually, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“To be honest,” She sighs, leaning against the wall, “there aren’t many people my age working here so…It’s nice to be around you- I’m sorry, is that weird to say?”

“Not at all, I like being around you too,” You smile, “I don’t have any girlfriends, I haven’t for a while,”

“Well, we can be friends then!” She exclaims, “I’m 19 and this is my first job, auntie was nice to offer this to me, I don’t have experience doing much else,”

“I used to clean with my aunt before she went back to nursing, I enjoyed it,” You take a seat on the edge of the bed beside her, “I eventually found something I was passionate about and went to college.”

“Did you graduate?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Her expression turns grim. “Oh, was it a financial thing or was it just not for you?”

“Neither, it’s a long story,”

“I’m not too busy, are you?” She makes a valid point.

That night was the first time you had ever told anyone about your life. There were moments where she looked stunned, others she had to push her tears down. 

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾ 

The news ran rampant on the streets. Notorious arms dealer, Kim Namjoon, was shot and killed in an ambush. Jeon Jungkook was there, he was supposed to die, not their leader. There was a price on Jungkook’s head, it was something everyone knew but no one spoke of. Every day, tensions grew between Jungkook and the group. It was unsaid but painfully obvious, that he was the boss’s favorite even with his wavering loyalties to the job. 

Namjoon’s memorial is today. 

The family came and you could see where he got his looks from, as well as his demeanor. They all mingle, but Yoongi spends a particularly long time with Namjoon’s mother. 

“How could this happen?” She presses a hand to his shoulder and Yoongi purses his lips, looking down solemnly. “I feared this would happen one day,“ She began to weep and you stayed far from the group after that.

After a while, you find yourself outside to get some fresh air, the woman beside you must have had the same idea.

“How did you know him?” She pulls out a cigarette, not bothering to light it yet.

“It’s a little complicated.”

“Hm, he was my brother…” She glances at you, the cigarette lit In between her fingers. “I knew this might happen one day, but I could have never prepared for it—it doesn’t seem real.”

“Can you ever prepare for losing someone? I’ve lost a few people in my life and I’ve never felt prepared…not even a little bit.”

“Comforting.” She scoffs.

“Y/N,”

You look back and see Taehyung lingering in the corridor and beckoning you to come to him. With a heavy sigh, you walk over, excusing yourself politely. 

“What?” 

“You’ve met Geongmin,” He stares, as the woman from another life blows puffs of smoke in the air, he never knew her to be a smoker. “I need to talk to her, privately,”

You glance back at her and just as soon as you open your mouth to say something, he’s making his way over to her. That’s a relationship you never knew of. Namjoon’s sister and Taehyung, you could see that—perhaps.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,”

“He’s my brother,” She turns to him with a scowl on her face, she wears red lipstick and her cheeks are just as red from the cold, “I didn’t hate him.”

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” He leans up against the patio railing, “it’s been too long, I think,”

“The last time we talked, you were off your meds,” She drops the cigarette in the ashtray, “Namjoon can’t make excuses for you, now both of our favorite people are gone.”

“I’ve missed you,” He confesses, staring off into nowhere in particular, “even more now.”

“Don’t,” She frowns, “I just happen to be the only one left…it’s only convenient to miss me.”

He’s in the car, sitting across from Akane.

“It has to be some elaborate joke…” 

“The shot wasn’t at close range, from what I heard, it could have been a misfire,” Yoongi concludes, “either way…he’s gone, I was with him when he left us.”

“How are you handling that? You’ve known him since you were kids…”

“In this world,” Yoongi sighs against the phone, “it’s just another work day.”

“Who’s taking over the arms business?”

“It can run itself with a few signatures from me, I’m thinking about Taehyung, he knows the business well, he was an understudy,”

“Hm, well, I heard about Jeon Jungkook, what do you plan to do about him?” 

“Nothing.” He takes out a cigarette from the case in the drink holder.

“Cold,”

“He got himself in that situation, he can get himself out. He caused a lot of problems, for innocent people,”

“I didn’t know you cared that much about innocent people,” She scoots close to the door, resting her hand on the handle before showing him an amused smile, “didn’t think you had a heart for people like that.”

She exits the car and he signals the driver to head out.

He glances at the driver who nods, preparing to pull out of the parking space. That’s when Yoongi glances out of the window and sees you approaching the moving vehicle. You were supposed to come with him earlier, you’re late of course.

“Stop the car,” Yoongi scoots from one side of the back seat to the other, to make space for you. He quickly opens the door, letting you slide in.

“Hey, I didn’t see you walk out,” You let out an uneasy breath, "sorry,"

Yoongi puts out the cigarette and you glance at him, knowing if it was for you.

“You’re fine,” He doesn’t say anything after that, he instead takes out a folder and starts reading. You glance over at it, reading a few names.

“We’ll be there within the hour, sir,” 

Yoongi seems a bit solemn, that’s a usual sight to see lately. Soon, you arrive at the destination and you still have no clue what you’re doing here. When he neglects to invite you into where he’s going, you simply watch him leave the vehicle and disappear inside.

“Miss,” He looks at you through the rearview mirror, “don’t be worried, the Min’s have to make difficult decisions and they can be rather quiet, they always have, no need to worry.”

You offer him a smile. He wouldn’t know that your feelings for Yoongi are mixed, that you worry about him in a way you probably shouldn't. In no time at all, you see him walking out with a woman by his side. Yoongi abruptly opens the car door.

“What is this?” You frown.

“I’m dropping you off,” He glances at the woman he brought out, “Sal will pick you up later.”

“Who is she?” You eye the woman.

“Heize, she’s doing me a favor,” upon hearing that, you ease out of the vehicle, “she’ll take care of you,” He presses a reassuring hand to your back, guiding you towards the woman. 

“Let’s go ahead inside, the tests are going to take a while.” 

Tests?

“What do you do exactly?”

“I work in identity,” She walks you inside a small office space, “did he not tell you why you were here?”

“He doesn’t tell me much,” You shrug, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all, “I also didn’t ask.”

“We’re making a new identity, as a precautionary measure.”

You didn’t expect to be giving blood, urine, and saliva samples today. After waiting a considerable amount of time, Heize dismisses the girl she had drawn your blood and leads you back to her office. She’s a quiet person. She doesn’t say much, doesn’t look too long, doesn’t move too fast—she sort of a book-nerd type, unsuspecting.

“How long have you known Yoongi?” 

“Years.”

She neglects to look at you, too busy typing away at her computer. 

“How long have you been doing this?”

“A long time.”

You nod to yourself. “Has it ever…Failed? Has someone’s identity been revealed even after all of this?

She pauses, finally looking up at you. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Shouldn’t I know what the risks are? It is my life,”

“There are risks to everything, it’s no different than being issued a passport, what are the chances of getting your name misprinted?”

“Not high… but not zero.”

“We'll, can’t argue with that,” She shrugs.

You had no clue, but Yoongi had this all planned out. 

Your way out, your final departure from this life. 

You’ve adjusted to some sense of normalcy at his family estate. You read, you cook, clean, and take care of little things around the house. It feels natural, normal. Life here is never too fast or too slow.

It felt reassuring to have someone around, to have stability—and consistency. After a hard day, his comfort was normally found in a glass of whiskey or the next readily available alcohol. Cigarettes, once a reliable source of solace, had dwindled into a boring pastime. After the memorial, he lit one for the first time in what seemed like ages, extinguishing it swiftly as you joined him in the car. 

Now, he prays to heaven for grace, knowing that this new coping mechanism would ignite Jin's wrath if ever unveiled. Grace or no grace, deep in his heart, he knows Jin would have his head if he knew the truth.

You step into the office after a gentle knock, knowing your entrance would be granted either way.

“Hi,” You wave, seeing that his tie is still tight around his neck, and cuff links are still secured and shiny.

“Hey,” He offers a half-hearted greeting, “did you have dinner yet?”

“No, is that the only time you want to spend with me?” You ask a genuine question, your expression timid as you avoid direct eye contact.

“Course not,” He gently closes his laptop, reaching up to pull off his slowly suffocating tie, “but it is a bit of a routine now, isn’t it?” His gaze dips down, seeing that you haven’t changed out of your formal dress. 

“You should get changed, I should be done by then.”

“I think I’ll wait a bit,” You purse your lips, l don’t get to dress up very often,” You rub the hem between your fingers, “I like to enjoy it while it lasts, don’t you?”

When he neglects to give a verbal response, you step closer to his desk, leaning up against the side closest to him. He shakes his head, an endeared expression on his face, now fiddling with buttons on his collar shirt.

“Well, don’t you?” You tilt your head.

“Hm,” He leans back with a deep sigh, “never really thought about it, I suppose it’s nice,”

The longer he’s gotten to know you, the less he desires to be alone.

His life has been everything nonstop, all the time. No time to wade in his thoughts, and daydream about a better life. He used to chastise himself for even thinking about a life without the mafia. He’s never lived a peaceful life, free from strife and trauma, so much fucking trauma. If he were honest, even a taste of it used to scare him. If he were to indulge in even a glimmer of a normal life, he would desire it. He’d kill for it. But he can’t enjoy a life like that. He doesn’t deserve peace, how could he? He’s stolen it from so many people. And here he is, trying to return it to one of his many victims.

There’s another knock at the door. 

“Supper is ready,” Ayeong says from outside the door.

“Ayeong, can you come in?” He beckons her inside, “I need to speak to you for a moment,” 

You quickly get the message to give them some privacy and you slip out, closing the door behind you.

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow,” He gets up to stretch his legs and roll his sleeves to his elbows, “take her out for a bit, she can get clothes, anything she needs.”

“Of course,” Her face lights up, “she’d like that, but Yoongi in all honesty, this doesn’t seem like it needed to be a private conversation.”

“It’s not necessary that she know I’m having you do this,”

“I’m sorry,” She regrets this as soon as it leaves her mouth, “but why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Fine,” She huffs, not hiding her disappointment, "I’ll take her out in the morning.”

“Stay out until after 9, and I only need essential staff here tomorrow.”

"Very well," She turns to leave but stops to look at him. He's already staring down at one of his contracts. "…You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell her how you feel, a woman deserves at least that-"

"Don't," His tone is stern but mindful to be respectful, "don't start that."

"Yoongi, I can’t want better for you?" She stares, disappointed in his avoidant antics. "All I’m saying is, think about letting your guard down and enjoying someone for once, while you’re still young, your father missed out on that-“

"Is that why you put her in my mother's dress? Do you want me to reminisce on the past, give her up to delusions like my father did to my mother?” He quips.

“Your mother loved your father and he changed,” She defends, “she happened to choose that dress, I had nothing to do with that-“

“And the necklace?”

“Necklace?” She pauses dumbfounded. “Yoongi, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, I’m not trying to trick you into anything if that’s what you think-”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not arguing about this…” He presses his temples, “I know you mean well but she's not going to be here forever, as soon as I can get her out she's gone, and she’s not coming back. Don't get attached, I only say this for your sake,"

She grits her teeth, holding her tongue for what she really wants to say. The last thing she needs is an angry Yoongi. "I care about her, I just want the best for her, after all she’s been through.”

"You don’t think I want that too?” He steps over to the window, looking over at the pristine garden and pool that he rarely touches, “I know what she’s been through, better than anyone...”

“I know you probably don’t believe it, but you are capable of experiencing love-“

“You’re dismissed,” He ends the conversation with a sharp command, already having given her tremendous leeway in this conversation.

You sit at the dining room table, moving your Brussels sprouts around, sipping your wine. This routine of having dinner with him almost every night, it's something you look forward to. 

You knew the subtle looks, the lingering gaze when the other wasn't looking, the laughs—it was a calumniation to something.

"Ayeong," You catch her trying to dash through the kitchen, "is he coming? I've been waiting, my food is cold..."

"Oh," She forced a smile, "I'm sorry dear, I’m not sure, he didn’t say," She leaves the kitchen with a swiftness.

You drop your fork on the plate—suddenly you've lost your appetite.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾ 

You waited until most of the staff finished their shifts when the guards left the inside of the home and only patrolled the grounds. That’s when you snuck out of your room to confront him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Yoongi's gaze lingered on you when you emerged from the doorway of the dimly lit room. It’s drafty, the window cracked slightly and you see Yoongi there, sitting with not a care in the world.

You continue. “You didn’t come to dinner, so I thought maybe I did something wrong…”

"I didn't come to dinner because I got caught up," Yoongi explained, his voice low and measured. "You didn't do anything wrong."

The silence that followed was full of tension, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt. A sense of displacement gnawed at you, but you pushed it aside, not wanting to show it.

"You could have at least said something," you retorted, crossing your arms in defense. "Ayeong had to tell me."

“I apologize…Now can you come here,” He beckons you over, gesturing to the couch, “we should talk.” 

You do as he says, walking over to sit a small distance beside him. "About?"

“How are you liking it here?” He throws out his question. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, I like living here," 

“Good, I’m glad.” 

On the coffee table beside him, you see cigarettes and a lighter. Impulsively, you reach across him to grab the lighter, and the cigarette box and slip one out. You stare at it for a few seconds, twisting it between your fingers, with the lighter in one hand. Albeit awkwardly, you ignite the flame and hold the white stick to it. The flame danced as you lit the cigarette, it caught fire, and his eyes cut to you, finally curious.

You bring it to your lips, heart racing and nose scrunching at the smell alone. You open your mouth and inhale, very quickly coughing like a first-time rebellious teenager.

“Don’t finish that,” He takes the cigarette from your hands as you struggle to catch your breath. “I avoid doing this shit around you, now you want to try it?” He takes a drag like a pro, blowing the smoke away from you. "It’s a bad habit."

“I know,” You look at him with a playful smile, reaching for it again. “you used to do it all the time,"

“What did I just fucking say?” He smothers it in the ashtray, his displeasure evident, “It’s not funny, don't touch that shit,”

“Why?” You counter, “I’m no different than anyone else here, so can smoke if I want to,”

“Not with me,” He scoffs, almost amused, “there are other ways to relieve your stress,”

“Yeah I’m sure,” You mumble, eyes tracing over his grumpy features. “But I don’t think you would know of any,”

Without a word, he makes his way over to the bar cart. There’s a decanter sitting on the top and one thick crystal cup. He reaches inside a drawer and pulls out another glass. It’s hard to tell what the drink is but when he brings both glasses, his nearly full over to the couch, you question his method of stress relief. 

He hands you the cup and goes to walk back and forth near the window, casually sipping his.

“Seriously?” He nods, predictably. You bring it to your lips.

“You don’t have to drink it,” He sighs, taking a quick sip. He walks back to sit back beside you, black strands cascading around his face like silk curtains when you look over.

"You think alcohol is better than a cigarette?" You questioned, a wry smile playing on your lips.

“It’s the lesser of the two evils, to me.” He picks his glass up, nursing it his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in his glass.

As you started to rise, ready to escape the uncertain atmosphere, Yoongi's hand closed around your wrist, holding you in place. "We're not done talking," He stares up at you, hand not losing its grip.

Reluctantly, you take your seat back beside him. “What is this about?”

“I want you to know,” He stands to his feet, strolling over to the window, “I’m traditional, that’s how things are supposed to be done in the mafia. Whatever the fuck Namjoon and your brother have done, it’s not like that, even I got a little slack.”

"Okay,” You walk over stand beside him at the window, glass in hand, “why are you telling me this?”

“The family you choose comes before anyone else,” He empties the contents in his glass in one chug, then takes yours, “I defended your brother for a long time because of that code, he defiled it and took advantage of me,” He continues, “now I consider you family, in your brother's place.”

“Oh…what does that mean exactly?

“I’ll make sure this organization supports you, I’ll provide protection for you as long as you live," The weight of his words linger in the air.

"Whatever you decide to do with your life after this," he added, "even if it's against your brother, your relatives, anyone—you’re protected." the finality of his statement sends a chill down your spine.

“Even if I’m not with the group, you would still be there for me?…”

“Absolutely,” He downs the rest of your drink and sets it on the window sill, “without question.”

"You’ll be there?” You scoot to stand between him and the window, wanting further clarification.

“Yes,” He gazes down at you and his palm finds its way to your lower back, “I’ll be there for you, in a heartbeat.”

Your eyes dip down to his lips before landing back on his eyes. But only a few seconds, you expression shifts, and the sparkle in your eyes dims. “Jungkook used to talk like that..."

Yoongi's demeanor shifts subtly, a shadow passing over his eyes.

"Did he?" He knows very well that Jungkook spoke like that.

“Yeah,” You step away from him, “I still think he has those feelings for me..." You look down in thought, "I find myself thinking about it, what he would say to me if he wasn't in prison,”

"You're not bound to him anymore, you have to start living like that,” He says gently, “he doesn’t control you, not anymore.”

"Honestly, I miss him sometimes...” You admit, your voice tinged with regret. “That's crazy, isn't it?"

"It’s not crazy Y/n, he was a major part of your life," He sighs, accepting that whatever heat that might have been kindled is long gone. "it's not easy to forget about someone like him,”

“Yeah, it’s not…”

“But it’ll get easier,”

When you stare at him with a look of relief and naivety, he begins to sober himself. You’re not just anyone looking for attention, not a one-night stand he’ll never have to see again —you’re much more than that. You have a pre-existing weight in his life now. Anything that happens gets carried into the future of the relationship.

It would be nice to have this, wonderful even.

[alphabetboyluvr]

something borrowed | jjk

VIBES | first loves, a lil angst, a lil... infidelity (don't scream at me!!), no smut (a little teeny lips to kitty moment but no actual smut) jungkook's nose be doing things (smelling <3) cause when is it not?, mafia au

SOUNDTRACK | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia, the weekend ; mirage - elina

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) was in a tiktok hell hole of moth to a flame edits, and this is the product of it loool. posted on wp first!!

WORD COUNT |  2.8k

GLOSSARY OF TERMS | all relating to korean gangs 

Gyeongsang - the ancient name for what is now known as the Yeongnam district of Korea. It includes Daegu, Busan, Ulsan, and both Gyeongsang Provinces. It's essentially the South-East of the country.

Honam - the district of Korea which includes Gwangju and both Jeolla provinces. Essentially, it's Yeongnam's counterpart - the South-West of the country.

Pa - the term for a 'mob' in Korean, often affixed to regions or identifiers of specific gangs

Jopok - a term for someone involved in a gang 

THEY SAY you never forget your first love; that it's some sort of earth-shattering, universe-bending, life-debilitating experience. You learn from it; how to behave, how to act, how to break a heart, and - sometimes - how to heal one, too.

They're a funny thing, first loves.

Virginities are given and taken in all aspects of life; sex, declarations of affection, scathing remarks in the midst of arguments.

Jeon Jungkook has all of your firsts, and you all of his.

It had been a too-hot summer, and you'd been rebelling.

Fresh-faced, and terribly bored of the confines put in place by your father, Jungkook had seemed like a safe bet. 

Jungkook had always been a rebel. You made no change to that.

You'd gone to Busan looking for trouble. Like father, like daughter. He usually went there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies who didn't know their left from their right; to remind them that what Honam-pa may lack in their underground history, they made up for in their sheer moxie.

You'd gone there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies, too, just in the literal sense. You were on the cusp of nineteen, and still being held prisoner to Honam-pa hierarchy, or so it felt.

An easy target was found in the form of a boy skimming rocks against a settled bay. Leather jacket and a face of thunder, Jeon Jungkook had wanted nothing to do with you. Heard the tone of your dialect and knew you were one of them.

"Ain't no place for Honam bitches," he'd told you. Had made you laugh.

"And who are you?" You'd replied, voice condescending, eyes innocent. "Too scrawny to be Jopok."

He had smirked. Shook his head. "Yeah, and you're too vapid to be asking questions like that in a city that ain't yours." The pebble he sent hurtling into the ocean skipped once, twice, three times before sinking. He turned to look at you. Sighed. Figured you were at least a little bit more interesting than pebbles. "What's your name, Honam?"

As you stand in front of a mirror, seven years since that summer, you know Jeon Jungkook will be getting all of your lasts, too.

You're smoothing down a dress; white, lace, and everything a girl dreams of.

Well, everything a girl who wants a traditional wedding with all the bells and whistles wants.

You've always considered yourself an elopement kind of girlie; last-minute charity shop dress for you, and second-hand tie for your groom, in a city worlds away from 'home'. That's what you would have liked.

But you're Honam's Princess. 

This was always gonna be the way.

You'd never expected yourself to have a Gyeongsang-pa groom, but sometimes life works out in funny ways.

"It's bad luck," you say quietly as Jungkook approaches the doorway. It's a little before noon. Nuptials are at two. You've sent away your ladies in waiting, favouring these final moments alone.

"To see the bride?" he questions. He's not even started getting ready yet. Still in a pair of sweats and an old shirt that you remember from that very first summer. You wonder if he's wearing it deliberately now; if it makes him feel like he's young again.

He'd been so fresh-faced back then. His broad back hadn't yet been tarnished by a dragon, and his eyes had seen far less violence. His hands, too.

You nod. "Remember? I told you. You shouldn't see the bride on the morning of the ceremony."

Jungkook just shrugs. Pushes the door to, and walks further into the room to stand behind you. It's warm, but his presence gives you chills. It shouldn't do. Not when you know him as intimately as you do.

His fingers reach up to toy at the vintage clasp of your necklace. He asks, "Something old?"

You're silent as you study him in the mirror. He's not aged a day. Not really. Not in his eyes. The scar on his cheek looks a little deeper from his face filling out, and he wears his hair differently - he doesn't subscribe to the Gyeongsang-pa standard of short sides, long top anymore - but his eyes are just the same.

"Something old," you nod.

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and lets the very tips of his fingers trail down your spine, until they reach the fabric of your dress.

"Your Grandmothers," he says. "I remember it."

You don't hide your surprise.

"What?" he smirks, when he notices the tiny little hum of confusion you do. "Was that first summer. You left it in my car once. Was karma for you chatting shit about your sister inheriting the opal ring."

"It was too small for her fingers!" you immediately protest, still standing by the fact it would have been cherished by you - though you do have an opal ring, now. 

It normally sits snug on your fourth finger, awaiting a dainty silver band to keep it company, but it's off today. Symbolic. Your wedding band is to be threaded on first, held in place by your opal forevermore.

"The necklace suits you," he offers. 

Thinks it really does; a small silver chain, links twisted with a single teardrop pearl resting on your chest. It goes back generations. Is a status symbol. Losing it in Jungkook's car had left you terrified for you both, no matter who would have found it - Gyeongsang-pa goonies or Honam-Pa. Would have been fucked either way. Fraternizing with the enemy was one thing - but fucking them?

Your father would have had Jungkook's head on a butcher's block within an hour of finding out.

Funny, how things change.

He strides over to the dresser, where a white shoe box sits open. Tissue paper sprouts from the packaging, and nestled inside are a pair of heels that he thinks are befitting of you. They're white, to match your dress, with ornate silver leaves trailing up and around the heels. You'll be a good few inches taller with them on, but he'd still dwarf you if he were to stand across from you.

A little taller than he was that very first summer, Jungkook is far more confident, too. Not in a brash, false bravado kind of way, but in such a way that he's learned his worth. Knows where he is in the pecking order. Works so much harder than you ever will, and yet will never be of equal status. Not in Honam Pa, not in Gyeongsang-Pa.

He sits on the chair beside the mirror and holds a shoe in each palm. His legs are spread, smile arrogant, as he taps the shoes together.

"Something new?"

"Careful," you say, not looking at him, tweaking a little bit of your hair back. "Yes. Something new."

He raises one of shoes, and nods to where the skirt of your dress pools on the floor. "May I?"

"Shouldn't even see-"

"See the bride, yeah, yeah, I know," he says softly. "Next time I see you, you're gonna be one of us. Let me at least spend a little time with you while you're still Honam."

"You've always hated that I'm Honam," you remind him.

He doesn't deny it.

"Just let me help you get ready for your party," he says, stern but gentle. He's always been like that with you.

He calls it a party, because he refuses to call it a wedding. Wedding is too romantic. Too foreboding.

You don't want to smile. He's so abrasive at times, so frustrating. You wonder how you ended up here; eyes full of adoration as you nod. "Alright then, Prince Charming."

You lift your leg just a little bit, but Jungkook knows your body, so doesn't give it a second thought as he reaches down to leverage it up. He strokes at your ankle, the heel of your foot, the arch. Smiles to himself when you shudder a little when his fingers ghost across the tiny ticklish section.

"Don't," you smile. "I'll fall."

He just shrugs. "I'll catch you."

That's the thing about Jungkook; he always does. Trusty, dependable, reliable. 

Sure, maybe occasionally he would be the one to tie your laces, but he would always catch you.

You've no laces on now. Any falling? All of your own doing.

Jungkook doesn't let the sentiment linger. Asks, "Something blue?"

You look down at him as he slides the second shoe onto your other foot, and wonder if showing him really will be pushing your luck - but hey.

He's already seen the bride.

What harm would it do if he sees a little more?

He holds on to your ankle for longer than he really should. Strokes his thumb across the top of your foot. Smiles. You press the pad of your now-heeled foot into the tiny space between his spread legs, keeping it elevated, and give him a look that grants him permission to explore.

Both of his hands stroke up your raised leg, smooth and silky, the fabric of your dress moving to reveal what's hidden beneath. He reaches your knee. Leans forward a little. Presses those lips you know so well against your skin. Keeps stroking upwards, hands spreading across your thighs before reaching a roadblock. Chiffon and lace intertwined, a baby blue garter is hooked around your leg.

Jungkook's lips trail from the top of your knee to just shy of the material that stopped him from venturing further.

"Something blue," you whisper.

He nods. Lets his nose rest against it. You've sprayed it with your perfume. He fucking loves your perfume. You've been wearing the same one since he met you, and it always gets him a little heated at times he shouldn't be. 

Isn't his fault though. He thinks you conditioned him. 

And yeah, maybe you had sprayed it in his car vents on more than one occasion, and maybe you had deliberately layered a pheromone-infused oil beneath it that entire first summer. Not your fault he happened to like it a little too much. Not his fault the scent always takes him back to those stolen moments with you.

Jungkook's teeth sink into the material. Draw it back. Let it ping against your skin.

"Kook," you whisper, as if your hands aren't in his hair.

His hands push further up your legs. Both of them, now. They reveal the lacey white underwear you purchased especially for the big event. It's a matching set.

"Thank God it's not a Church wedding," he husks, a sigh exhaling. His breath tantalisingly chills your now-wet folds. So inconvenient. "You'd burn the second you stepped inside."

Jungkook's lips trail further. Leave little evidence. He's learned how to do that over the years. Has left no traces of himself, well, ever.

There's hustle and bustle in the garden out of the rear window. A traditional-style wooden screen preserves your dignity; hides your Gyeongsang-pa goonie from sight.

The venue wasn't your choice. It's Gyeongsang territory, for a start. Your father had said it would be good. Would help with the treaty. Very little about your 'party' has been planned by you. Like most of your life, your father has an iron vice on proceedings.

Your underwear was the one thing you had total control over. Had even considered wearing none at all, as a bit of a 'fuck you'.

Jungkook pauses. Takes in the sight of you. Grips the flesh of your upper thighs. Curses to himself. 

It feels like he's staring at your lace-covered cunt for an eternity before his lips finally press against it. Your grip in his hair tightens.

You'll need to change your underwear before you walk down the aisle. That's fine. This underwear was never intended for anything other than this, regardless.

Because while yes, the groom shouldn't see the bride ahead of the ceremony, it's not like that matters here. Jungkook was always going to see you before the wedding.

His lips are slow as he withdraws, and simply says, "Something borrowed."

The implication is heavy; heart-stopping. Cataclysmic.

"By you?" You whisper, as his deep dark eyes meet yours.

He looks so pretty in defeat. It pains you - but you both know this is the least painful outcome for you both.

Jungkook shakes his head. Let your dress gather by the floor. Smooths it over. Reclines into his chair.

"By Min fuckin' Yoongi."

Neither of you speak for a moment. Hearing his name, especially uttered from Jungkook's lips, makes your blood run cold. For so long, you've avoided the topic.

It's impossible, now.

See, it doesn't matter if Jungkook sees you before the ceremony.

He's not your groom.

Yoongi is.

He's your counterpart; the son of the Gyeongsang-pa King. A marriage born out of a sacred treaty between the gangs; the promise that together they'll obliterate Sudogwon's unruly mobs that have been making their way south in recent years.

"It's not too late," Jungkook whispers.

But it is, and you both know it. You've come too far to back out now.

Negotiations have been made. Peace treaties signed. Deals across clans finalised.

You're Honam's Princess, but one day you'll be Gyeongsang-pa's Queen.

Jungkook will only ever be a pauper chasing after the big boys.

So you'll say your vows and exchange your rings, and Jungkook won't object.

He'll sit quietly, like a good boy should, and watch you seal your fate.

Will watch Min Yoongi slide a wedding band onto your ring finger.

Will smile to himself when notices your engagement ring holding it in place a few months from now.

Will remind himself of the old tales that go hand in hand with opal engagement rings. If the legends are anything to go by, you'll be a widow within four years. He can wait that long. Has waited far longer, already.

And if, by four years, his time still hasn't come?

Kings can be overthrown. Jungkook is as Jopok as they come. He'll fight dirty.

For you?

He thinks he'll fight to the death.

"You're too good for Gyeongsang," he tells you, neck stretched, the crown of his head resting between his shoulder blades. You're scratching at his hair, looking at him.

With a smile, you shrug. "I'll still be Honam. For you, I'll be Honam."

Jungkook nods. Closes his eyes. Leans into your touch.

"My Honam girl," he says quietly, and it makes you wish that you had just run away with him that very first summer. You'd suggested it after you first thought you had lost your necklace. Thought it would be the only way to keep one another safe - until Jungkook found it between the seats.

You'd thanked the God that you don't believe in at the time. Clutched the necklace over your heart, head tipped to the heavens, all while Jungkook looked only at you. Lucky, he'd said, unaware that it was the worst possible outcome for you both.

You should've run.

Should've fuckin' run.

"Go," you whisper, knowing it's too late for any of that now. "We've got a party to attend, and you can't show up in a pair of sweats."

He likes that you don't call it a wedding, either. Nods. Also knows he can't be caught sneaking from your room. There'd be hell to pay.

Jungkook gets to his feet. Kisses your cheek. Tell you how pretty you look. Slowly walks to the door, then turns to look at you one final time. Spares you from a final remark that could make you feel even worse about the situation.

"Kook?" You call, just because you can't bear to let him leave. Not yet. It's too soon.

He hums a response. Doesn't open the door just yet. Waits for you to speak.

"I wish we never met."

Jungkook looks at his feet. Smiles. Nods. 

"Me, too, babe."  And then, just because he needs it to be known, "I love you."

You don't turn to face him.

"I love you, too."

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Like Crazy (lovers) | JJK | Moodboard

Pairing: mafia king! Jungkook x mafia queen! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, flirting, spice (no smut tho), cheating, blood, use of different weapons, character death, violence, mafia! au, love triangle?, long haired Yoongi because I'm obsessed, alcohol consumption, Jungkook smokes, Yoongi smokes, (more will be added with the story)

Summary: A sparkling flame, a tempestuous affair, A forbidden romance, a love so rare. A lost cause, a love too bold, Their story written, yet to unfold. Or in which you fall in love with the mafia king for in him your found solace from your own suffering. But in the innocent there's a sinner, in peace there's chaos and in life there is death.  Because you betrayed the man you were meant to support, all because Jungkook enchanted you with his words. In a fallen world with written memories, you drown in the very blood you spilled for your enemy.

*this story will be published on my coffee shop exclusively for my golden darlings. You can purchase the membership with the link below and get access to premium content on my Ko-fi 🫶

March/17/2024

~ Navigation

[whoretan]

ARK 45 | 01

Summary: Actions have consequences and when your boss Jimin lets you know you'll be working undercover at ARK 45 for no other than Jeon Jungkook, you feel as though you've gotten yourself into something that will eventually get you killed.

WC: 4.4k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Angst and Smut (Eventual)

Chapters: 1 (ur here) | 2

Warning: undercover working as stripper, reader has done some fucked up things and will witness much worse, graphic and explicit themes, trauma is ur new best friend, people will die and there is a lot of betrayal, but at least it'll have some good porn, right?, reader is badass tho

“Do you work here?”

Your eyes lul over from the desktop to a redhead with a face full of freckles. Pretty? Sure. Dumb as hell? Apparently. 

Your eyebrows knit at the question, unsure if she really asked you that, given the fact that you’re sitting at the receptionist's desk. You can’t help the amused tug of your lips when you say, “What does it look like, cupcake?” 

Redhead apparently does not appreciate your question because her nose immediately scrunches as she scowls. With a huff and a roll of her dark brown eyes, she points to the ‘Employee’s Only’ door to your right. Your brows lift and you look behind at the black doors then back to her. 

“Is Jimin in today?” 

Now, you’re intrigued. You plant your chin on your palm, which rests on the surface of the glass desk, and grin, “And how do you know Jimin works here?” 

Her face flashes and the red hue of her cheek instantly pale. Looks like Jimin didn’t give Little Miss Sunshine the notice that she shouldn’t be here without an appointment, asking stupid questions that could get her killed. 

“I-“ 

You cut Redhead off because it looks like she’s about to cry and you’re not in the mood to listen to her whining. Besides, it’s ten in the morning and you clocked in an hour ago for fucks sake. 

Lifting your pointer finger toward Redhead, you grab the receiver to your right and press number one— Jimin’s office. 

It rings once, before a familiar deep voice answers, “I’m listening.” 

“There’s a pretty Redhead standing right in front of me asking to see you, isn’t that interesting?” 

Jimin sighs, mumbles a few explicit words, and finally says, “Bring her to my office.” 

Looks like Redhead does know Jimin.

Your grin grows wider, and when you meet Redhead's gaze she suddenly spins around. You hang up on your Boss with a murmur and by the time you place the phone back into its original spot, Redhead’s gripping the handle to the exit. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

 Your words hold no malice, but the message is there. She will regret walking out now that she’s made her presence known. Now that you’ve seen her face. 

Redhead halts, body unmoving for a solid few seconds before retreating from the glass. When she turns back to face you, her cheeks burn a bright red which matches her hair delightfully. Her lip quirks inward as she sucks on it using her teeth, and you somewhat feel bad. 

Her fuck up will either result in her miraculously walking out of the office, or not. Simple. Once you walk her through the doors, she’s no longer your problem. 

Yet, you can’t help but feel intrigued. Why would a girl like her come here? What made her grow the balls to show up to a place like this alone and unannounced? She knows Jimin, but so do the hundreds of others that flock to his side like insects.

“What’s your name?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop the wandering thought. 

Her gaze lingers on yours, she releases her bottom lip and looks to the carpet. “Miranda Ricci.” 

Instinctively, your finger taps the glass, long nails clicking against the surface at the familiar name. She’s here about Richard Ricci, the man you killed four days ago. An old, sleazy fuck that’d been meddling with Jimin’s shipments in the Terrero Region. The shit-bag had it coming. 

Jimin even had the courtesy of sending you out a month prior as a warning. Senior Ricci had too much pride though, and it was exhilarating draining every ounce of it out of his body.

You wonder if she knows her best friend ratted Daddy out to Jimin. 

Not like she’d ever find about that. 

So, like any good secretary would, you stand from your desk, and motion toward the black door. As Miranda approaches you, you place your hand on the small of her back and lean in, “Don’t say anything that’ll get you killed, darling.” 

She tenses under your hold indicating your message was heard loud and clear. 

“So?” You ask as you push open one of the double doors leading to Jimin’s office. 

About two minutes ago, Redhead ran out of the black door with tears streaming down her freckled face. She didn’t even bother to spare you a glance on her way out. 

Jimin’s sat at his desk with his head bent over the top of his chair. 

He groans.

Someone’s unhappy. But then again, if the daughter of a crime boss you ordered to have murdered came into your office you’d be irritated too. 

“She’ll do it.” 

You plop onto one of the leather couches in the middle of his obnoxiously large office and scarf down the Dunkin Donut’s jelly-filled donut you Uber’d. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

Swallowing down the drier-than-expected donut, you peer over to Jimin who’s lifted his head to look at you. There’s a twinge of concern etched on his pretty face and your stomach flips because when Jimin’s concerned, there’s a fucking problem. 

Jimin’s eyes blaze and he crosses his feet in front of him. “She wants to know who killed her father.”

Well, that could be a potential problem.

You tilt your head and smile, pretending like the statement doesn’t phase you in the slightest. 

“You think she’ll try to have me killed?”

Jimin breaks his gaze, looking over toward his shelves of books. He’s deep in thought, most likely weighing out the options you two have. If it’s worth the potential risk of admitting that his secretary killed her father, or simply lying. Either way, Redhead will convince her brother to get rid of all of the shipments coming from Terrero. 

“I do.” 

You can’t help but glare at Jimin. Even though the answer is expected, hearing the words leave his mouth leaves you grinding your teeth. 

You’d kill the bitch before she even gets the chance to tell her brother who’d murdered their sweet little Daddy, hell— you’ll drop off a letter with every single fucking detail. 

“I need you to spy on them.” 

Your eyes turn to slits, and you bite at the inside of your cheek. Spy on one of the most influential Mob families in New York? They have undercover agents, security, and influence from every fucking corner to alley. It’s like Jimin wants you to die.

“More importantly, on Jungkook.” 

The sound of Jungkook’s name piques your interest. The stepson of Richard Ricci. Jungkook’s biological mother married Richard after immigrating from Korea, who’d given his stepson half of his businesses, letting him run drug transactions disguised in form of clubs. 

The corner of Jimin’s lip tugs upward and you chuckle because he’s challenging you. Pushing you past what could very well be your limits. What might just finally get you killed. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness left over from the donut. You suck on your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on your face. “And how exactly do you want me to do that?” 

Jimin’s mischievous eyes hold yours. You’re not going to like his answer and he knows it.

He runs a fingertip over his bottom lip as he assesses his words, their weight, and how you’ll react. 

“You’ll work at ARK 45.” 

You snort, then puff out a breath, completely baffled, “You want me to work at his strip club?” 

“I need you to,” he says flatly. 

“And if he recognizes my face?” 

He glares at you because the question is stupid and you almost turn away from embarrassment because you’re being irrational.

“No one knows your face, Viper.” 

Your eyes hold his, clenching your jaw, and the air crackles between you both. 

Jimin rarely uses the name, like it’s been forbidden from his tongue. But it reminds you of who you are. Not a receptionist, but a weapon which he yields at will. 

You blink and your Boss’s eyes flash with sympathy, as though you’d gotten yourself into something that will eventually kill you. 

You swallow, tear your gaze away, and walk from the couch without another look back. You don’t want to think about what will come out of this. 

ARK 45 pulses with slow-paced, sensual music. The walls drum with vibration and the street thuds beneath your stilettos with each passing beat. You inhale sharply, taking in the red hue illuminating from the grand windows fifty floors above you. 

“Name?” The bouncer asks, giving you one solid look from head to toe. 

You peer at the man who’s holding a clipboard with what you guess is a list of names. Jungkook doesn’t like strangers entering his territory. He thrives on keeping his enemies under his radar. 

The bouncer wears black-rimmed sunglasses regardless of the fact that it’s well past midnight and the dragon tattoo snaking its way up from his nail into the shadows beneath his shirt convinces you he does more than just play security. He’s attractive even with the grays in his beard and the wrinkles around his mouth that give his age away. 

“Joanna Webb,” you lie, providing him with the name Jimin fabricated for you.

He nods and quickly flips through the pages, skimming down the list of what feels like ten thousand names. He then grabs the pen that's lodged into his ear and presses it between his lips, leaving the cap between the folds. He writes something down and nods towards the two glass doors. 

With a quick thanks, you push past him and head toward the entrance. The two doors are completely transparent, except for the large black handles, the left with a number four and the right with a five. 

The first floor of ARK 45 serves as a receptionist area, and if it wasn’t for the three grand chandeliers that hang from the ceiling that conceal the painted ARK 45 in red bold letters, you’d mistake it for any other lobby of an overpriced hotel. 

The real action comes fifty floors above, where the core of ARK 45 sits. 

The bar turned Strip Club after ten is Jungkook’s main event. What draws people into the ARK 45 is its enticing women and mysterious owner. 

To everyday people, Jeon Jungkook is a young multi-millionaire who built his clubbing empire without using the aid of his Daddy. A single bachelor that has girls from all backgrounds coming to try out for a position at his club, for a single glimpse of him.  

To others— people like you and Jimin— Jungkook is a pest. A menace with a presence too large for the entirety of New York. Killing his father was a pinch in his ass, nothing more. Truthfully, he’s probably happy the fucker is dead. 

Jimin had you kill Richard as a warning to Jungkook. 

Because Jungkook runs the shipments from Terrero, not his father. 

Because Jungkook decided to keep them running even after Jimin warned him not to. 

Jungkook will kill you after he finds out you slaughtered his father. Not because he loved Daddy dearest, but because you ruptured his ego, his pride, and tested his territory. 

He’ll kill you as a warning to others to not fuck with the Jeon name. 

Luckily for you, no one bats an eye at Jimin’s secretary. Which makes your job eerily easier. 

You saunter toward the elevators and press the metal button to your left, it glows red as the elevator hauls down to you. The elevator doors slide open, revealing an empty box with mirrors on all sides. 

Momentarily, you take a good look at the red cocktail dress Jimin had delivered to your apartment. The way it clings to all your curves, hugs your body in the right corners without making it feel like you’re suffocating beneath the cotton. He knows what kind of man Jungkook is, what he likes on women, and what he doesn’t. The attached note of, “Wear this, and nothing else. Love, Jimin” confirmed your assumption. 

The doors begin to slide inward before you’d stepped in and with a quickened step you squeeze past the closing doors and heave a sigh. You glance at the columns of numbers and linger on the ‘P.O’ at the very top, the button to Jungkook’s office. 

Which is most definitely guarded by security. 

Huffing, you press the number fifty and watch it erupt with light. The elevator thuds and then proceeds up. You watch the numbers increase, from one to ten, twenty, thirty, forty, till the elevator dings and the wave of music hits you like a tsunami. 

It’s louder— way louder— than outside and your ears pop as you step out of the elevator. ARK 45 is well known for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths are designed into the walls, making the space feel intimate. The stage is in the center of the room, with a single spotlight shining down on it and an array of diamonds and jewels hanging from threads. Every booth has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls with a separate area on a loft to the corner of the club. Attached to the loft are booths that hang from different areas in the upper walls, giving its special guests a view unlike any other.

It’s packed to the brim with men hungrily eyeing the workers, their exposed breasts, and petite frames. The sensual rhythm pumps through your ears and as you make way through the floor your heels vibrate. It smells like vanilla with a hinge of musk which is predominantly radiating from the men. 

You scope the area, and your eyes fall onto a dip in the wall where the mirror in the walls deflects the booming lights ever so slightly. There are two-way mirrors on the upstairs floor. 

Men like Jungkook need control— crave it, and you can bet your life that his office is located at the very top, overlooking the guests as if he were God. 

Below one of the panels lights pulses a red ‘LADIES ONLY’ sign. 

You make your way through the main floor, avoiding the lingering gazes from the men sitting at the tables which are scattered throughout the floor. The last thing you need right now is to draw attention to yourself, unwanted attention specifically.

Without much thought, you push the door open and are met with girls sitting at vanities fixing their makeup, hair, or outfits. Some are half naked, or entirely, while others wear burlesque type of outfits, big feathers and all. 

Blinking, your eyes adjust to the white light that contrasts the dark red in the main area of the club. You stand there like an idiot, but they pay you no mind, too enticed in the music and the atmosphere of the club to worry about someone entering the dressing room. 

“You’re late.”

You spin and an older woman with brown hair and red lipstick scowls in your direction. 

Here goes nothing.

“I need to speak to Jungkook,” you say.

Her lips purse and she eyes your silhouette before sighing, “You have fifteen before you need to be on the stage.” 

You nod and she points in a direction to the right. With another turn, you walk away and head toward another door. After pushing through, there’s a staircase and two more doors with white letters that read “Showers” and “Lockers”. 

Stairs it is. 

You look over your shoulder and peek through the circular hole before booking it up the stairs. 

Confused, and completely lost you feel a tinge of disgust in your sloppiness. 

You’re not thinking properly. You stormed into the dressing room, lied and now you’re standing at the edge of a door that you don’t even know leads to Jungkook’s office. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, and you’re unsure if you should knock or walk the fuck away.

Jimin sent you to the Lion’s Den and you’re lost for the first time in your life. 

You kill. That’s your job. To kill, mercilessly and selfishly.  Not to play dress-up and dance on a pole for the same men you torture daily. 

You turn away, ready to walk down the stairs and out of the club when you remember Miranda. She’s searching for you, so is Jungkook, and when they find you they’ll end you. They’ll do everything in their power to make sure the Viper hangs from a noose outside of ARK 45. 

Are you willing to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for because the Jeon’s need their ego fed? 

You wipe the perspiration from your forehead. When you look at your hand, you glimpse at the cut beneath your thumb, the one Richard managed before you slit his throat. Your temples pound in sync with your increasing heartbeat.

To hell with Miranda and Jungkook.

With a wicked turn, you gouge at the handles and force the doors open. Swinging in full force as a bull would, you’re prepared to meet the gaze of Jeon Jungkook but you’re met with nothing. 

It’s empty. 

You look around the over-the-top luxurious office. It’s ridiculous, with a 180-degree view of the dance floor, the fucker can see everything happening downstairs. It has a large lounge area with a fully stocked bar and leather stools that line up the front of the conference table area. You even notice a hallway with a private bathroom and an extra door. 

You step forward, nearing the desk by the wall. 

You’ll kill him. 

“What are you doing in my office?”

Your heart thumps against your chest with the speed of light and it almost hurts. Breathe, Jesus fucking Christ breathe. You’re the Viper. You’re used to situations where you’re caught off guard, where you risk your life for the “greater good” as Jimin jokes. 

So why the fuck are you paralyzed?

You turn and you see the Grim Reaper himself. 

The man—undoubtedly Jeon Jungkook is tall, well built, and dark. 

He’s wearing a black suit, perfectly tailored. It compliments the tan accompanying his throat and tattooed hands. His black hair, shorter in the front with longer ends frames the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook’s dark eyes are narrowed to slits. His straight brows, the small bump to his nose, and the flawless curve of his lips are all enhanced by the metal ring pierced into its corners. 

His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail. But his features remain motionless, and in all your years you’d never seen such coldness in a human face. 

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, frozen in horror as if you hadn’t murdered his father a week ago and enjoyed every fucking second of it. His mere presence has reduced you to a shell of who you truly are. 

It feels like twenty minutes have passed. The silence ticks by, and he cocks an eyebrow up, amused by your reaction.

Finally your voice rasps out, “Job. I’m here for a job.” 

“You’re here for a job?” He questions as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever been asked. 

“Is that a problem?” Your voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as barded wire. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets and laughs, perfectly straight teeth on full display. His laugh echos tauntingly in your head and your patience hangs on a loose thread. 

“I don’t just hire anyone, sweetheart. My girls are top of the fucking top,” he muses. 

You blink.

“I am the top of the top.” The words are out of your mouth before you could stop them, instantly wishing you could reach out and take them back. 

The last time you danced publicly was ten years or so ago. At a Christmas Recital, your parents forced you to participate in. And the last time you stepped foot into a Strip Club was when you had to lodge a knife between the owner's eyes.

Jungkook takes a small step forward and as if you’re the same poles of a magnet, you take one step back. 

He removes one hand from his pocket and a glint of amusement stirs in his eyes as if you’d just performed a trick that entertained him. Your stomach churns and you can’t stomach the sinking feeling that you did not want to be Jeon Jungkook’s personal entertainment for the night. And an even stronger feeling that you already are. 

Jimin said this would be easy. Walk in, shake your ass a little here and there and you’d get the job. Yet here you are standing a mere foot away from the one man he said to stay away from completely engulfed by his presence. 

“What’s your name, darling?” 

You gulp, and the name Jimin gave you runs in mismatched pairs in your brain. Jocelyn? Jaclyn? Jacky? Think. 

An odd thumping begins in your chest as Jungkook’s gaze falls down onto your body once again. Joan, Joanelle, Joanna. 

Joanna. 

It’s Joanna. 

“Joanna.” The name is foreign on your tongue, but, Jungkook’s face remains emotionless. 

His eyes narrow on your stilettos. “And you think I’d hire you, Joanna?” He drawls the last syllable of the name and his heavy gaze travels upward eventually meeting yours. 

Your eyes burn from the intensity. How can the face of an angel have the eyes of a blackhole? 

 Too afraid to tear away from the darkness pulling you toward him. You nod, slowly.

“Dance for me.”

You stare at him, probably looking dumbfounded as hell. He nods his head toward the chairs beside you. 

“I-“

“You want the job, don’t you? How else would you get it besides impressing me?” A frightening smirk lifts his lips and he approaches you. 

His dress shoes are heavy against the wooden panels of the floor and you’re cemented to the floor. Unable to move an inch. 

You’ll have to dance for him. 

Your heart pounds so loudly you think it’ll rip from your ribcage. 

You don’t even know if you can dance. 

Something caresses your skin and when you stare at the finger, Jungkook’s seated in the chair directly beside you. During your daze, he must’ve turned on the speakers because a Weeknd song you recognize vibrates the room, consuming you. 

Imma care for you, you, you… 

Your eyes fix on Jungkook once more, on his cold, malicious and painfully beautiful face. 

Jungkook’s head cocks to the side and so does a strand of his hair, following the axis of his body with haunting motion. Every instinct in your body is keeping to run away from him, fuck Jimin’s plans and reap his rath as punishment later.

But Jungkook’s hand envelopes your wrist and you swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth and step in front of him. 

You make it look like it’s magic. 

Jungkook’s hand slides from your wrist to the top of the armrest. His dark eyes remained locked with yours and in your life, you’ve never been as frozen as you are right now. It has everything to do with his cold touch, face, and demeanor. This must be what it feels like to have your soul ripped out by the Grim Reaper. 

He’s going to eat you alive. 

Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you… 

Your heart soars with explosive fireworks when Jungkook opens his legs, giving you the access to his lap. 

He’s expecting a lap dance. 

As if noticing your hesitation, he says, “You can always suck my cock.“

Your finger twitches and the unnerving ease in his manner of speech sends your throat into anaphylaxis. 

You have to dance.

I’m never confused. 

You shake your head, and inch into the space between Jungkook’s legs. You’ll kill Jimin for this, rip his balls out and serve them on a platter. Right now though, you have to dance. 

Hey, hey. I’m so used to being used. 

You spin around, because if you have to look into those scorching eyes for another moment you’ll surely pass out. It’s easier facing his desk, facing a blank wall. 

So I love when you call unexpected, cause I hate when the moments expected. 

Using your heels as leverage, you sway your to the rhythm of The Weeknd’s voice. His soft words coursing your ears, guiding you through this torture. 

Your hands find their way to the back of your thighs, grazing the exposed skin ever so slightly before proceeding to your ass. You linger at the shell of your asscheeks, and you use your index fingers to carve out the shape of them. 

 So imma care for you, you, you… 

There’s warmth on your hip, and you try to steady your breath after realizing Jungkook’s using his hands to guide your hips lower and lower. You allow him because rationality is out of the window at this point, you lost it the second you stepped foot into this cell. 

Cause girl you’re perfect, always worth it, and you deserve it, the way you work it.

It’s like your ass collides with a wall. Jungkook’s hard muscles tense beneath you and you grind yourself into him. Into the darkness that’s consuming you from every possible angle.

 The warmth of Jungkook’s body sends shivers down your spine, and the way both of his hands are now gripping your hips, ushering you to glide back and forth on his erect cock. You’re grinding against him, feeling the thick swell of his cock pressed between your clothed ass. 

“Get off,” he growls into your ear.

The trance you’d put yourself in lifts and you blink repeatedly as Jungkook pulls you off his lap. 

When you’re back onto your feet, you spin and Jungkook’s eyes blaze darker than you’d ever seen them. 

He was— is hard. 

What’s the problem? 

The sweet melody of The Weeknd comes to a close and you finally take notice of the remote on the armrest. 

Jungkook stands and there’s no space between you now. His face is inches from yours, bodies so close that his heat and yours radiate in one continuous loop, feeding the tornado brewing. 

He wets his lips, his features dissolving the lust present seconds ago.

“I don’t hire whores.” 

And with those words, he pushes past you and walks the fuck away. 

Next Part.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Ride Or Die | Home

mafia!jungkook, druglord!jungkook, angst, smut, unhealthy relationship 

Word Count - 2.5k

Jungkook takes you home after four months of running from him. Warnings: swearing, violence, threats, non-descriptive smut, mentions of drugs and death. Important note: I do not condone nor enable this behaviour or relationship. this is fiction

MINISERIES COLLECTION

After a painfully long, silent and tense car ride with Jungkook you’re finally back at his apartment, the self and same apartment you left him alone in four months ago. The day he drilled you in the shower two weeks after your initial breakup.

The place looks the same, he hasn’t changed a single thing about the interior, down to the framed picture of you both that sits on the side table in the darrk dimly lit lounge. Upon further inspection you register the glass in the frame has been smashed.

Perhaps Jungkook launched it across the room in a fit of rage when you left him here. You guess you’ll never know.

Where usually the leftover dusting of cocaine lines and crushed pills stain the coffee table, you notice it’s actually clean from drug paraphernalia for once. Your chest tightens with something akin to pride momentarily before you snap out of it with an irritated sigh. 

Jungkook has just killed someone in front of you, right now you’re nothing more than a witness to his crime. Murder. You remain standing. Even when he brushes past you and sits on the edge of the black sofa, camouflaging with the fabric since he’s wearing tight ripped jeans and loose silk button down shirt of the same colour.

“Am I just supposed to ignore the fact you were following me?” Your voice is like ice, you still don’t have the confidence to look him in his hooded eyes, shifting your weight between your aching legs.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, seemingly amused with an arrogant smirk, “You’re welcome by the way… For me saving your life.”

“I-,” You hesitate because you know he’s right. But that doesn’t change anything he’s done. “How did you even know where I was?” Curiosity gets the best of you and you gaze down at him, his usual doe-eyes look more reptilian, narrowed and fixed to your face. They’re partially covered by his raven hair which has grown since you last saw him, but you can still make out they’re on the brink of being frightening, just like the rest of his profile. Save for the smug white smile he’s displaying.

He’s laughing quietly when he speaks, pointing to himself with a long digit, “Seriously? A member of mono broke into your hotel room to kill you and you’re pissed at me for stopping him?”

“Killing him.” You bite through clenched teeth, “You didn’t stop him Kook you killed him.”

At this he stands up and quickly makes his way over to where you’re stood in a few long stride, until his heavily tattooed muscular body towers over yours. His shirt is open at the top, exposing his tanned skin adorned by a silver chain you’d gifted him a few years back. He looks dangerous. He is dangerous. Your heart is racing inside your chest but you don’t fold, you stare up at the man you once called home with furious eyes, folding your arms as if to protect yourself from his bullshit.

“Before…” His voice is low and sultry when he grips your chin with one calloused hand, holding it in place tightly, “He killed…” He creeps even closer, until his nose is less than an inch away from yours, “You.”

His messy hold of your face tightens and he angles your chin up, until it grazes his. He’s staring down at you intensely, watching your next move carefully. Heat and adrenaline flood your senses you somehow find the strength to push him away with all the force in your body. To your surprise he actually stumbles back a good distance despite his heavy weight and strength. He chuckles, shaking his head softly.

“I save your life and that’s the thanks I get?” He tongues his cheek, beginning to unbutton his shirt until it hangs either side of his inked six pack. “I’ll remember that for the next time it happens.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time Jungkook! Because you’re going to stop fucking following—”

“Stop following you?” He scoffs before storming back over, but he doesn’t touch you this time. Instead he looks down at you with dark eyes swimming in disgust. “And just… let you die? You think I’d ever allow that to happen?”

You swallow, gaze dropping to his muscular torso for less than a second. Shit. You look back at him, he’s smirking, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I can take care of myself.” You manage to choke out, and you’re right. While the events of this evening suggest otherwise, you know how to defend yourself should you have to. And if something like this ever happens again at least you’ll be more prepared. Maybe you should take one of Kook’s guns with you just in case.

Jungkook inhales sharply, dramatically, his pierced lips round and whistling, “He threatened to stab you Y/N, and you just stood there and let him. How the fuck is that taking care of—”

“How were you even listening to that?!” You scoff, jaw practically on the ground when it drops, “How-, how long have you been following me?!”

He pushes your body back until you’re flush to the nearest wall, his arms caging you in either side of your head. His jaw is tight, nostrils flaring, chest heaving as though he’s trying to calm himself down. And you feel the need to do the same. You’re angry. Hurt. Confused. And then he slips closer, until his bare chest is pressed up against the swell of your breasts, dipping his head until you’re eye-level with him.

“Since the moment you left.”

Your voice is low, borderline sultry when you finally manage to speak, “I told you… not to follow me.”

He matches your almost seductive tone, lips ghosting yours so closely that his breath is warm against you and your whole body tingles with something indescribable, “And I told you… not to leave.”

“Jungkook…” You exhale, bones vibrating from anticipation when he darts his tongue out to wet his lips. You shouldn’t go down this road with him again. You can’t. It would be a mistake.

But you want to.

“Mmm?” He smirks, cocking his head down and to one side, until his mouth is agonisingly close to the flesh of you neck but he doesn’t go any further. Despite how much you want him to. Parts of you miss him, parts of you hate him. But one fact stays constant, no matter what you think of him.

A part of you still loves him.

You swallow, eyes fluttering shut while you gather your thoughts, “I don’t need you to protect me, I can take care of myself.” Your voice comes out whispered, airy, albeit very unconvincing.

He pulls back just enough to catch sight of your breathlessness and you almost blush beneath his salacious gaze. His words are husky and hot when they roll of his tongue, “Prove it.”

“I… I-, No!” You snap out of his spell, shoving him away. Except this time he doesn’t move at all, you’re still trapped between him and the wall. “Let me go please.”

“That’s how you defend yourself?” Laughter rattles inside his broad chest which only infuriates you further. “You’re gonna ask the big bad wolf to just let you go? Please? Come on you can do better than that baby.”

With venom lacing every word you speak through clenched teeth, “I said let me go.”

“Why should I?” He’s using his tongue to play with his lip ring, brows raised and voice eerily calm. “Hm? So you can run off and nearly get yourself killed again? Give me one good reason—”

Your hand tightly clasped round his thick neck wins him to shut up, you don’t squeeze, you don’t want to hurt him. Truthfully you don’t think you’re actually capable of hurting Jungkook, not physically anyway. He’s been shot, stabbed, tortured, punched, kicked, thrown around… Nothing you do could ever hurt him. But what you’re doing right now does surprise him. He’s grinning, eyes blown out with something familiar, something carnal and raw.

“Are you done patronising me yet?” You spit, adrenaline coursing your veins. You have to admit something about having your hand round his throat, catching him off guard, being the one in control (even if he’s the one letting it happen) is kind of… thrilling.

“You do realise you’re not actually doing anything to me? I can still breathe, still talk. Still move. Come on Y/N. Do something. Make me feel something.” His smile pisses you off, how bright it is, how amused he is, how handsome he looks. Everything about him enrages you to the point of you actually wanting to hurt him, but you don’t. You wouldn’t.

You let him go with a small frown, “Not all of us have to solve our problems with violence.”

“Says the girl who just tried to choke me?”

“Fuck you.” You bark.

He brings a hand to your chin, tugging it upward. “I plan to.”

Maybe it’s the way his brow quirks ever so slightly. Maybe it’s how he wets his lips slowly with his glistening tongue. Maybe it’s the distraction of his exposed torso. Maybe it has something to do with the sinful way he’s hungrily eyeing you up and down. Maybe it’s the familiar apartment setting. It could be a lot of things… But whatever the reason is, it’s soon irrelevant.

Because you kiss him.

And he kisses you back.

Before long the living room is absolutely trashed and unrecognisable. The coffee table is broken completely in half. Sofa cushions scatter the floor haphazardly, not one managing to stay actually on the sofa. The rug in the room is half folded over and has moved three feet to the left. The side table is knocked over and smashed to pieces. The television is broken, displaying nothing more than a plain black screen and a neon green print of your ass alongside one of Jungkook’s large hands next to it.

Four months without each other and between you you’ve managed to rack up at least eight thousand dollars-worth of damage in one hour. One spectacular, wild, leg shaking and back breaking hour. An hour that you will never forget. Nor will he.

You’re laying atop of Jungkook’s chest on the floor in post-orgasm bliss, both completely naked, sweaty and worn out from the antics of the last sixty minutes. Jungkook reaches into his discarded jeans to find his cigarettes before lighting one. Using a dented piece of wood from… something you broke, as a makeshift ashtray.

“So are you gonna tell me how you found me now?” You hum, tapping your fingertips to his chest when he blows a perfect smoke ring into the air. Truthfully you always hated him smoking in the apartment, but you figure you have no say in the matter anymore and decide to keep your opinion to yourself.

“No.” He smirks, left hand flicking the ash from his cigarette and right hand gently smoothing out your messy hair. “I do need to figure out how mono found you though…  Cause I was the only person who knew your location. Didn’t even tell my men where you were.” He’s deep in thought at this point, thick brows furrowed with concentration and something else, something darker.

You mull over your thoughts before you’re being tugged into a bone crushing hug.

“Ow!” You whine, giggling, “Maybe someone followed you and they found me that way.”

“Doubt it, I’m good at covering my tracks.” Jungkook scoffs, clearly offended. He’s managed to pull you atop of his hard body so you sit up and straddle his hips.

He looks so good like this, underneath you, damp and spent. His profile remains dangerous looking, as it usually does. But his eyes soften when they meet yours, for a split second he resembles the old Jungkook you fell in love with. Your Jungkook. Even the cigarette he’s holding finds a way to make him look sexy. You swallow, tracing delicate patterns to his chest with your index finger.

“Aren’t you worried…?” You take a beat. “About that guy you killed?”

The man you’re sat on shrugs nonchalantly, bored looking when he takes another drag. “Not particularly. Did what I had to do to keep you alive, which again...” He grips the flesh of your thigh with his free hand, fingernails tapping your skin. “You’re welcome by the way.” His smile is genuine when smoke leaves his lips, thickening his voice.

“Thanks.” You chuckle with a tut. Truthfully you are grateful for him interfering when he did, however dramatic it was at the time. You would be dead right now if he hadn’t followed you. Even though you told him not to, you’re only alive because he did

“So are you gonna run off again or have you finally figured out it’s safer for you here?” He dots out his cigarette on the discarded wood, bringing his hands to your hips, holding you in place. His eyes drag themselves up and down your exposed chest and stomach when he gnaws his lip.

“I’m safe wherever I am…” You nod, melting beneath his touch when his inked thumbs rub your flesh; he’s toying with his lip ring again and you’re close to lunging forward and kissing him but you resist. “Since you’re so hellbent on following me everywhere.”

“Wouldn’t have to follow you if you stayed.” He sighs quietly, “Would save me a hell of a lot of time, stress and resources. Plus there’s no way mono would fucking dare come after you if they found out we’re back together.”

There’s a lump in your throat that won’t go down, bound by nerves. “I-, Kook we’re not back together… I still, I mean-, we’re still not good for each other.”

“You know your argument would be much more convincing if you weren’t sat on me completely naked right now.” An amused puff of air rips from his nostrils when he smirks. “And that’s where you’re wrong baby… We are good for each other. We keep each other alive.”

But unbeknownst to you, mono anticipated this exact situation. They knew you’d stay together after they found you, they expected nothing less from their rival gang leader and his on-and-off girlfriend’s infatuation with self-destruction.

And they already have a plan in place that will leave one of you dead. 

x

[jinconda]

Hustlers Masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

summary: Broken friendships, tested loyalties are causing Bangtan's internal problems to become worse than their external.

not so much a summary: im tired of weak, annoying y/n characters that are helpless and need jk to save them. that being said, reader is an explosive, temperamental, badass. jks girlfriend has the lovely title of being the annoying y/n.

warning: violence, I mean like some serious ass shit, killing left n right, graphic themes, dark themes, swearing

playlist: not mine but it gives off hustler vibes

Summary: When Jeongguk’s girlfriend, Jihyo is taken by the Daechwita gang, everyone’s friendships are tested as Jeongguk does anything in pursuit of getting her back.

wc: 6.2k

Summary: The aftermath of the Daechwita house causes tension and the severity of the issue begins to weigh onto everyone.

wc: 5.5k

Parts one and two are combined in one post which is found here.

Taglist: (I have this saved in my Mac’s notes, if you want to be removed given that I’ve been gone for half a year, let me know (and if you want to be added, even better ;] )

@carolsummerlove @seajae @wintersobs @sparkyprotectionsquad @youlook-likehell @mizz-kraziii @jinnaga @artgukk, @shownusshoulders @gguksnoona @thequeen-kat @swnss @kooyanami @lily-tigers @joonjulyagust-d @satorinnie @azazel-nyx @parisoswag @kokoandkookie @nochuonii @finelinememories @greezenini @thataquariusreader @scoupsnotscoops @maichiverse @diamonddia-mond @sparkyprotectionsquad @tucajitadepandora @posijeon @yoongistangerine @plants-w0rld @tatyxxana19 @parisoswag @softforpj @luvshorses08 @mariegalea @bllatrixcarpnter @pjmwingz @lavenderhotcoco @waterlilyintherough @namitakeru @f4ncyvelvet @andrejamis @bad1karma @jiminoctilucy @itzz-me-duh @btspurplesky @iconicgguk @yoontaethings @jeonpendejo @in-daydreaming @bubbless-world @sweetcheeksdna @leehaechanlee @neo44 @nochuel @morauvmi @nissss @desireangel @hrts4kook @bratdolls @barbellastyles98 @xeidensdistraction @xeidensdistraction @akqshie @namjooncrabs @greezenini @lvrseok @tkaatalk @akshstudios @btspurplesky @shydestinyyouth @ishizhan 

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

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[alpacaparkaseok]

How to Steal Moonlight |1|

Chapter 1. The Heist

→ Pairing: mafia!BTS x reader (not poly)

→ word count: 6.2k

→ warnings/tags: SFW, we stealin stuff, general sassery, Hoseok alludes to crimes committed in France because he's extra, paranoia, general love for life

→ a/n: HI I HOPE YOU DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT ME. We're here! We've made it! Chapter 1! I feel like there's so many things that I would've like to have included, but also, nothing's ever perfect. There's so so so much to come from this series, and I hope you enjoy experiencing it with me. as always, thank you! and pls come tell me what you're thinking, it gives me life. happy reading!

The world is set in tones of gray. It makes for a gentle greeting as you walk out into the cold morning. Taking a seat, you watch the mist slowly approach the deck like a wary child. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the ocean, peaceful and calm. It’s almost perfect.

            An apple crunches between someone’s teeth, obnoxious and loud.

            “Good morning, Victoria.”

The blonde doesn’t look at you, sitting just to her right. Instead, her mouth moves robotically as she chews the apple, eyes trained on something just beyond the mist.

            “I was under the impression that you were asleep.” Her voice feigns innocence, yet you know better. After all, it’s been you that’s been up at all hours of the night, listening to the distinct sound of an apple snapping under the force of her teeth. You’re at your wit’s end – so much so that even the sight of an apple flips a switch inside of you, making your blood pressure skyrocket.

            Even in the dim light of the pre-dawn world, the bags under Victoria’s eyes pop. Her hair lies across her shoulder with a dull, greasy sheen that only days on end without a shower can bring.

            “No. I wasn’t.” You stare with unbridled rage as she lifts the apple back to her mouth, opening wide for another bite. Acting on pure impulse, your hand shoots out, slapping it out of her hand with unnecessary force. The apple thumps to the ground and rolls, the force of your slap sending it careening off the deck and disappearing into the forest below. Victoria stares at where it fell with an absent frown on her face.

            You force a breath in only to find your lungs charged up with a swallowed scream. It’s the same one you’ve been repressing for a week now – a week filled with monitors that beep incessantly and quiet, whispered voices that cease when you walk into a room.

            “You know,” you begin, and you’re startled to hear the quake in your whisper, “someone that sits up all night eating god-forsaken apples and playing watchdog screams guilty conscience.”

            Victoria doesn’t bother looking at you – you’re unsure if she’s glanced your way since that fateful day that you let her walk free. Even when you found her here, sitting on the deck of your suite as if there was nowhere else she was supposed to be, she hardly looked at you.

            “An apple a day keeps the devil away.”

            “Doctor,” you hiss. “It keeps the doctor away.”

            A ghost of a smile flickers across her pale face as she reaches into her pocket, producing a bright green apple. “Sure.”

            Then she takes a bite.

--

            The small town of Julien looks like it could be out of a Hallmark film. Especially tonight, with the full moon and stars in full splendor. You remark as much to Seokjin, who stands beside you in the tree line.

            “Yeah, it does,” he says, voice muffled as he hides his mouth behind a chunky red scarf. “Do Hallmark movies end up like this, then?”

            He must be referring to the gallon of gasoline he’s holding up. The red container matches his scarf alarmingly well, which makes you wonder if he chose the color on purpose.

            You frown, thinking. “Well…most winter ones have some sort of fire, I guess. You know, sitting next to the fireplace, roasting chestnuts. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

            “This is basically the same thing, then.”

            “Really romantic.”

            “Isn’t it?” Seokjin’s head tilts to the same side a smile pulls on his lips, eye reflecting the lights of the village only 100 yards away. For a moment you see something deeper, a doorway to a memory over a year ago now, of the first night you met. The snow seeping into your boots could be the ash of a burned building that Seokjin stood in the center of as if it were his throne.

            Ducking his head so that his nose edges your cheekbone, he breathes out a laugh as you take a shaky breath. It’s always the same; some dark corner or secluded spot finds you going up in flames with your hired arsonist. Only this time, it’s not in your head. His deft fingers tug you closer, steadying you as you tramp over snow only to find yourself suddenly pressed up against the trunk of a tree.

            “Jin-” you half scold, half plead. His dark eyes rove your face, jaw clenched.

            “You’ll be safe in there?” You nod, but he shakes his head. “Say it.”

            “Y-yes,” you breathe out. You’ve hardly looked at him for weeks and suddenly he’s here, inches from you. It’s a flood of emotions you’ve yet to examine, staring you in the eyes.  

            “The plan. Repeat it.”

            You blink, craning your neck even as he hunches over, head hanging. His eyes remain closed, breath crystalizing in the cold air.

            “Are you…” you say, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that you tamp down. “Are you worried right now?”

            He hesitates before speaking, but when he does his voice is a rough strain against the night air. “I’m not…used to working with a conflict of interest.” Straightening, he turns to retrieve the gasoline he left abandoned in the snow moments before.

            “I’m your boss. Not a conflict of interest.”

            “You’re you. That’s enough of an issue, as far as I’m concerned.”

            Grinning, you step forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He smiles, eyes glimmering. “And the plan is simple enough. Ten minutes, tops. Grab any valuables within reaching distance. Jimin’s on the other side of the street waiting for us. They’ve been drinking pretty heavily for…” you check your watch, frowning. “A couple of hours, at least? You’ll run the distraction outside. Deal?”

            “So what, I’m nothing more than the thing that goes boom in this situation?”

            You shake your head. “I’m the muscle.”

            “What’s that make me?”

            “The pretty face.”

            Seokjin’s laugh is quiet as he leans down, close enough to touch. Yet neither of you dare to move, the same force holding you apart now as it has since the aftermath of Taehyung’s betrayal first began. Something flickers in his eyes, something you haven’t found a name for just yet.

            “Jin…” you whisper, almost afraid of the way it sounds like a plea. His eyes spark, dipping down to your mouth where his name sits on your lips. You haven’t spoken about what transpired between you two on the day of Yadiel’s death, but the ghost of it passes through you every time he looks at you. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he saw into your soul as you bore your heart to him amidst smoke and ruin.

            Eyes slipping shut, Seokjin looks almost innocent as he forces himself to relax. To refrain. You bristle, watching the walls snap up again.

            “Why do you do that?” You breathe out. He takes a step back, squaring his shoulders. Slipping the mask of the arsonist back into place.

            “Because one of us has to be able to function,” he quietly teases, even though every word sounding like a confession. Another step away from you, eyes turning to face the cabin. “Because we’re doing a job.”

--

            As much as Seokjin joked about his alarmingly good looks, you knew he’d rather stay in the shadows. He did so surprisingly well, reminding you of Hoseok’s uncanny ability to do so. Perhaps he’d learned more from the hitman than you realized.

            He went first, leaving you with a prolonged look that resulted in a hurried kiss atop your head before disappearing between the trees. Your heart rate picked up with each step he took, anxiety chipping away at your already frayed edges.

            Julien was a town you would’ve never visited if it weren’t for Jungkook. Placed into intensive care immediately following a gunshot wound to the chest that resulted in a collapsed lung, you went north of Queen’s Wharf to the small mountain village of Julien which had a renowned private hospital at its disposal. Since arriving three weeks ago, Jungkook had been placed into a medical induced coma while undergoing procedures to reconstruct his lung and ribcage.

            And now, you arrived at the heart of your problem.

            You were broke.

            “In position.” Jimin’s voice crackles to life in your ear. “Awaiting your signal.”

            It isn’t long before Jin responds, quiet voice skittering between your shoulder blades, making you shiver involuntarily. “Did she tell you I was just eye candy tonight?”

            “Oh, Seokjin.” Jimin sounds like he’s speaking to a kindergartener. “What did you think you were getting paid for?”

            Rolling your eyes, you begin to move out. The cabin up ahead is wreathed in light, looking like it was plucked out of the North Pole. You half expect to run into Rudolph on your long trek up, but all is silent around you.

            Save for the incessant chatter in your ear.

            “I knew you only wanted me for my body.”

            “Who? Me?” Jimin’s having too much fun sitting in the warmth of his car across the street.

            “What’s your position, Seokjin?”You grit the words out, ignoring their banter. “I’m approaching from the east side.”

            A pause, and then Seokjin’s answer. “I’m inside the shed.”

            “Nobody can see your face inside the shed, Seokjin,” Jimin chides with a note of laughter. You snort before you can catch yourself, feeling the tightness in your shoulders easing for the first time in weeks. “Kinda misses the point, doesn’t it?”

            “Shhh, I’m working,” Seokjin whispers back.

            Finally, the chatter stops. You’re close enough now that the shadows in the windows are clear, showing a few partygoers and caterers standing near the walls. The rest should be nearer the center of the house, right where the action is. The elite of New England crawling out of the colonial mansions to hide their satin dresses and Rolexes beneath down coats and skis that cost more than Jungkook’s hospital bills.

            Tonight, you’re one of them.

            “Ascending the stairs.”

            Abandoning the old knee-length coat in the snow to reveal a full-length emerald slip, you eye the wine glass someone left behind on the back deck. It’s easy to summon the rest, setting aside the questions nagging at you in the back of your mind and stumbling up the stairs toward the cabin.

            “Woah there,” a short man in a blue suit stands at the top of the deck, staring down at you with his mouth wide open. “What’re you doing out here? You’re going to catch hypothermia out there!”

            Fixing your paper-thin sleeve so that it stays on your shoulder, you laugh a little too loudly. “Trust me, we were plenty hot out there.” You hand him your glass, running a hand through your hair. “Have you seen my husband?”

            His eyes grew impossibly wider as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I- your husband? But who…” understanding dawns on his face as he flushes a deep red. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

            “Are you trying to make the news?”

            The voice that comes from the French doors is soft and almost as cold as the snow clinging to your ankles. Pulling your features into the picture of serenity, you turn to face the man standing in the entryway with a look that could kill you where you stand.

            “She does this, you know.” Hoseok strides forward, taking your arm in a firm grip. He hardly spares you a glance, instead focusing his attention on the poor man who has taken to staring down at the two wine glasses in his hands. “Last year we went on this amazing hiking trip in France only for her to wander off with our guide. You know what happened?”

            “Uh, no…”

            “What’s your name?”

            The man blinks, breath coming out in quick little spurts that make it look like he’s breathing out smoke in the frigid air. “Er, Roger. Sir.”

            Hoseok claps his hand on Roger’s shoulder, forcing out a dry laugh. “Well, Roger, let me tell you what happened. Our guide got lost. They thought they’d take a little midnight swim, but he forgot which way to find the lake. You see, the cliffs were to the west, which was right where he was heading. I suspect he realized his mistake on his trip down.”

            Roger’s face couldn’t get any more comical, but alas, his gasp shook the cabin itself. You squeeze Hoseok’s arm, but he shrugs it off.

            “Cut to the investigation, the DNA evidence, the strangely broken compass…” Hoseok spared you a look of pure disgust. “Well, you can piece it together.”

            “You…” Roger points a feeble finger your way, but Hoseok cuts him off.

            “Exactly. She loves making the news. Always wants to have a hand in the next great tragedy. Awful, isn’t it?”

            Leaning against him, you push out your lips in a pout. “I thought you liked that about me."

            Hoseok laughs, Roger’s mouth twisting into a half laugh as he stares on in confused horror. “Anyway, Renfield-”

            “It’s, er, Roger.”

            “Right. Roger. Would you mind keeping a lookout back here in case there’s any sign of the poor man she’s lured away tonight? I’ve got to get her home.”

            Roger could only nod, watching on as Hoseok practically dragged you inside. You nearly tripped over the entryway, bumping into him.

            Few people looked your way as you entered. You kept your focus on Hoseok as he guided you into the center of the house, to a large living area decked with live pine trees that almost touched the fifteen foot ceiling.

            Mistletoe hung from various stations, including a spot over the fireplace where a woman was straddling a man twice her age, her lips pressed to his.

            “We’re in, with a watchman on the deck,” Hoseok says conversationally. “At your leisure, Seokjin.”

            “Timer is set, you’ve got ten minutes. See you on the other side.”

            Squeezing Hoseok’s arm, you relinquish your hold on him at the same time he moves away from you. “Be honest, you enjoyed that way too much out there.”

            Hoseok beams, a laugh working past his lips. “I’m almost lost it at the end. Poor Renfield.”

            “Roger.”

            He shrugs. “Whatever.” Slipping off his suit jacket and placing it around your shoulders, he winks conspiratorially. Then he turns, disappearing into the swarm. You watch him go until he’s nothing more than a head bobbing in the crowd.

            You know what you need to do. It’d be hard not to when you’re practically drowning in wealth out here on the dance floor.

            First, you approach center of the floor where it’s only writhing bodies and the strong stench of alcohol. Here, nobody will notice hands brushing up against their bodies. They won’t notice their wrists feeling a little lighter, either.

            A gold bracelet embedded with diamonds slips off an older woman’s wrist. A young man’s Rolex is next, followed by two wallets. You turn and flash a smile at a man close to his forties who sidles up close to you. Grinning slyly, you slip around to his back, hands finding his shoulders before scratching the fabric of his shirt as your fingers slide down to around his biceps.

            “Does the jacket mean you’re taken?” He shouts above the music, eyes sparking with curiosity. You laugh sharply, squeezing his arm at the same time your other hand slips to his back pocket.

            “Probably in the same way that ring says the same for you.”

            He glances down at the wedding ring on his finger, shrugging dismissively. “Semantics.” Turning to face you head on, he frowns as he finds nobody there.

            No doubt that frown will deepen later when he realizes his wallet has mysteriously disappeared as well. Hiding in plain sight as you dance a few yards away with the suit jacket folded in your arms, you wonder if he’ll remember you when he thinks of his missing wallet. Perhaps he’ll be smart enough to put two and two together.

            Judging from the way he wastes no effort looking for you and moves on to a young brunette almost immediately, you seriously doubt he will.

            “Two minutes.”

            The sound of Seokjin’s warning triggers something deep inside you, and suddenly you’re imagining him standing before you, on the dance floor.

            It’d be empty save for the mistletoe and the fire crackling in the fireplace. He’d stand there in a suit, grinning at you as you trod on his feet. Perhaps he’d lean in close, lips brushing against your ear as he quietly sang along to the music. Then you’d turn in his arms, leaning back against him as his nose edged along the column of your throat-

            “Fire! There’s a fire!”

            You jump, jewelry clinking in the pockets of Hoseok’s suit coat. Heart in your throat, you swivel until you find the hitman, who stands on the second-floor landing where he’d been keeping an eye out for you while you performed your little heist. He nods and you move, making small circles around the room so as to not draw attention to yourself. A frenzy has taken up inside the cabin as the owner catches wind of the situation.

            “What’s going on out here?” Ulson Love demands, practically shoving Hoseok out of the way as he makes his way toward the back deck. The shed blazes in the distance, sending Ulson to leap off of the deck itself. The snow acts as some sort of cushion for the fall, but you still can’t help but peek out and enjoy the sight of Ulson struggling to gain his footing. Covered head to toe in snow, Ulson looks far from the dignified owner of one of the biggest pharmaceuticals in the nation.

            “He jumped!” Someone screams, while another holds their loved one close as if shielding them from a murder crime scene.

            “My jet-skis are in there!” Comes another voice, this one from Ulson’s oldest son, Frederick. “Dad! My jet-skis!”

            Barely managing to stifle a laugh, you abandon the crowd and head toward Hoseok. He chats with a handful of the other guests, feigning concern as well as he played the careless husband earlier.

            “Oh, there you are,” he says by way of greeting. You extend his suit coat out to him with a meaningful look. “Ready to head out? I daresay this party’s winding down.”

            The others chuckle knowingly, one in particular eying the way your slip clings to your thighs. Tilting your head so you make eye contact with him, you offer him a high-class sneer.

            “I thought New England was supposed to have some class.”

            Hoseok laughs, hand lighting on your shoulder and guiding you back down the stairs. “I’d forgotten – you’ve never come before.” Matching your disgusted expression bit for bit, he glances back at the others. “Rookie mistake.”

            Together you walk out the front door, which is already swarming with guests. Some make for their cars, where valets are rushing to get their jobs done. Most stand idly by, phones out as they vlog their wild experience in the otherwise quiet ski town.

            Across the street, Jimin flashes his lights. Waving at a group of influencers you’ve never seen before; you follow Hoseok to the car.

“Know them?” He asks.

“No.”

Hoseok snorts, shaking his head as you two near the Mercedes. Together, you slide into the back seat.

            “Have fun?” Jimin asks from the driver’s seat. Seokjin sits beside him, eyes on the rear-view mirror. You meet his gaze, flushing as you recall how lost you’d become daydreaming about him in there.

            “The best time.”

            “And,” Hoseok shakes the pockets of his suit jacket, listening to the sound of jewelry tinkling inside. “We stole stuff.”

            The car ride to the other end of town is lively, everyone feeling good for the first time since Jungkook got hit. Banter flows easily between Hoseok and Jimin, and you note that the two of them seem to have sprouted a friendship when you weren’t looking. Gone is the typical venom fueling their jabs.

            “We should be getting close…” Jimin says, eying the GPS. He slows to a stop as the road goes from pavement to dirt, groaning.

            “What?”

            He gestures around him, mouth open. “This is a dirt road! Yoongi never said anything about off-roading.”

            “I’d hardly call this off-roading,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms. “Although, look. Fresh snow.”

            Rolling down the window, you look outside to see the dirt road covered in freshly-fallen snow. Cursing, you duck back in. “Crap. I was really hoping to not leave tracks tonight.”

            “The Mercedes isn’t going down there,” Jimin says defiantly. “It’s divine intervention, the snow. We can’t leave tracks.”

            “You just don’t want to get mud on the tires,” Seokjin points out. He turns around in his seat, facing you. “Thoughts?”

            “How far away is the drop zone?”

            Consulting his phone, Seokjin’s brows crease in concentration. “Less than a mile.”

            “Great. Jimin? Pop the trunk.”

            “Huh?” You open the door, already halfway out of it. “Oh, alright. Cool. Let me just grab that for you.”

            You pull it open, already starting to plan ahead. It’ll take a while in this weather, especially if the snow worsens. But a job is a job, no matter the weather, right? All you’ll need are some thick socks-

            “Hey.”

            Seokjin appears, gazing down into the trunk. You stare up at him, wondering if you’re senses have really dulled that much over the past few weeks. He might as well have appeared out of thin air with how distracted you were.

            Instinctively you glance over your shoulder for any further surprises, but the only thing approaching on the street behind you is the falling snow.

            “This looks promising.” He’s pointing to the snowshoes taking up most of the trunk with a grimace that might be a twisted smile. “More difficult to track, doesn’t present a particularly unique footprint.”

            “Exactly.” You nudge his side, grinning up at him. “You read my mind.”

            He looks inclined to lean down a little closer but stops himself. “We’ll have to move quick, I’m sure this place will be crawling with the guests soon. Maybe the police if they sense foul play, which rich people almost always do.”

            “I wonder why.”

            Grabbing the bag you’d had the foresight to pack in case of an emergency, you quickly change into warmer clothes but find yourself with one dilemma.

            “Jimin?”

            You lean down to eye-level beside his door. It allows you a perfect view for when he shrivels up in anticipation for what you’re about to say. He sweeps his hair back – black now, instead of the blond you’d become so familiar with. It suits him, you think. Gives his glare an edge that it didn’t have before.

            “What do you want from me.”

--

            Jimin complains loudly as Seokjin backs the Mercedes up, placing the tire tracks over your footprints on the road. “This feels wrong. Awful.”

            “You’re not the one wearing the sweaty socks!” You call out. “It’s not natural, Hoseok. Nobody should be able to exude this much sweat in such a short amount-”

            The car tires squeal in their attempt to speed away, drowning out the rest of your words as well as Seokjin’s barking laugh. Hoseok waves a hang out the window as they leave, returning to the lodge where Namjoon and Yoongi await.

            Where Namjoon stands guard to Victoria, although the two of them haven’t so much as looked at each other since her sudden arrival.

            Jimin offers his arm to you, red scarf vivid against the backdrop of the village lights. “Shall we?”

            Holding up the bag – a grocery sack, no less – you accept his arm. “Let’s get this over with. I’m already freezing.”

            Together you set out, avoiding the dirt road entirely in favor of the woods. Sticking to the edge of the trees, you keep a wary eye out for any sign of movement among the shadows. Jimin remains just as cautious beside you, his breathing steady.

            The stars watch on, unmoving as you trek along. Occasionally you pass a sign for the abandoned mine; the historical site that originally put the small town on the map. Tonight it acts as your drop zone.

            Jimin keeps his eyes ahead, looking determined. He knows just as well as you do that the money tonight’s loot will bring in will prove not only to cushion your threadbare wallets, but it’ll prove something to you.

            “Operation went smoothly,” he remarks. The snow crunches with every step, the sound comforting.

            “It did.”

            He’s humming softly to himself, stepping along jauntily. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face, even as your mind drifts back to the lodge where the others await.

            “Interesting choice, having Hoseok in the cabin with you.”

            Your brows furrow, catching wind of his up-to-no-good tone. “What do you mean?”

            Jimin shrugs, seemingly taking great pleasure in having the upper hand for a moment. “Well, he played the role of your husband. A little interesting, considering the fact that your lover was just outside.”

            “I – what-”

            “Don’t worry,” Jimin laughs, waving off your dumbfounded expression. You’d thought you kept your preference for a certain arsonist under control the past few weeks, but apparently you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you’d imagined. “Your secret’s safe with me. Until it’s convenient for me to use as leverage and so on…”

            “How did you know?” You flush, heart stopping. “Our mics weren’t on earlier!” Balling your hands up into fists, you bite down on your knuckles. “Were they?”

            Gasping, Jimin smacks your hands down away from your mouth. “No! What were you two doing back there? In the great outdoors no less-”

            “Nothing! Just…talking.”

            “Well I’d like to talk more often, if that’s how it goes.”

            “Jimin.”

            He ignores your stern tone with another laugh. “Oh, relax. I saw him heading up to your room the other night, that’s all. Didn’t take much to piece it all together.”

            You blink, trying to recall what he’s talking about. Just as your about to deny the claim, you gasp. “Wait, really? Like three, four nights ago?”

            Jimin eyes you suspiciously. “Yeah, something like that. Are you telling me you don’t remember?”

            “No! It’s just…” You recall how lost you’d been that night, trying to convince yourself that it’d be fine if you left everyone behind to go find Taehyung. At that point, you didn’t care about slow, painful ways to make him regret what he’d done. A slipped knife in an alleyway would do well enough.

            Just as you began to devise a plan to get past Victoria, who never slept during the night, a knock had sounded at your door. Seokjin appeared, padding soundless across the floor before coming to a stop beside your bed.

            “Are you…” Seokjin swallowed, crouching down to meet your wide-eyed gaze. “Are you alright?”

            You must have managed some sort of affirmative response, because he nodded to himself, relief written across his features. He was shaking, you think. He looked pale, almost green in the moonlight.

            “Seokjin?” You croaked, feeling as if you were spinning. Half of your mind was gone, tracking down a traitor while the other half was there in your room, watching Seokjin with eyes wide enough that you thought you could catch every detail of his face as he watched you. “Did something happen?”

            He shook his head then. “No. No, nothing happened. It was all in my head.” He leaned forward, his hair tickling your jaw as he brushed a slow kiss against your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

            A snowflake lands on your eyelash, blurring your vision. Blinking it away, you find Jimin looking at you with confusion written in his eyes. “I thought that was a dream.”

            Quiet and then – “That good, huh?”

            “Jimin!”

--

            A single lamp hangs from the boarded up entrance of the abandoned mine. It casts an eerie glow on the ground, bringing you to a stop long before you can reach the circle of light. Jimin approaches it, hanging the bag on the lamp before retreating back to the cover of the trees.

            “Do we leave, or…?”

            “How many times have you done something like this?” You whisper, looking at him incredulously. Jimin raises a defensive hand.

            “Hey, I’m always the guy in the car, ok? Don’t ask me how the nitty gritty gets done.”

            Rolling your eyes, you settle down to wait. Jimin huddles beside you, checking his watch. Only ten minutes to midnight; the appointed pick-up time.

            “You know the guy?” Jimin asks.

            “No. Yoongi does, though. It’s his contact.”

            “And you trust Yoongi.”

            A loaded question. Do you trust anyone right now? “I trust his desperation. That’s all I need.”

            Jimin fixes you with a questioning look, but you ignore it, scanning the area instead. Most of the group knew very little about your deal with Russo – the one in which you signed Yoongi back to him. It was easy then, to promise Russo that if he’d help you take down Yadiel he could have his favorite pawn back. Of course, you hadn’t known then that Russo was in with Taehyung all along. It was a sure win for him.

            Now, he was out for blood. Your blood, specifically. With the Father, the head of the Genovese family, and the Kim’s at his side, it was only a matter of time before he found your little family and tore it apart.

            So, you needed assets. You needed connections.

            Money. What you really need is money.

            Yoongi understood that and more, of course. So tonight, you trust his desperation to remain free of the Father’s control.

            You just hope that extends to his client as well.

            The minutes tick by painfully slow, and you’re fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when Jimin nudges you, pointing toward a slowly approaching figure.

            Clothed in all white, they move cautiously but with an air of self-importance that you’ve seen before.

            Teeth bared, you’ve nearly clambered to your feet before Jimin has a hold of you. “Sit down,” he hisses, yanking you back. The white-clad figure looks your way, but can’t see past the trees to your exact location. Rushing forward, they grab the bag and check the contents.

            “I’ll have my jeweler inspect these,” they announce loudly, and only then do you stop fighting against Jimin’s iron grip. “We’ll be in touch shortly. Send Min my regards.”

            Only once they’ve disappeared through the other side of the woods does Jimin release you, glaring. “What was that all about? You nearly ruined that for us!”

            Rubbing your face angrily, you shake your head. “It was nothing.”

            “Nothing?”

            “Yeah.”

            His laugh is hard as ice. “Really? Because that didn’t look like nothing. The poor guy probably thought he was about to get jumped-”

            “I thought it was Tae-” the name gets caught like a ribbon on a fence, tearing itself in two. “Taehyung.” Jimin goes still, his mouth slackening. “He looked like Taehyung.”

            Already you’re walking, not wanting to hear the scoff bound to leave his lips. Poor little capa, she’s lost her mind. She’s seeing things, up in the night.

            Snow crunches as Jimin struggles to catch up, nearly falling on his face in the process. “And you were going to do what? If it was Taehyung.”

            You shake your head, mind spinning. For some reason the memory of Taehyung’s first meeting with Namjoon crops up on your head. The way he threatened Namjoon with his life when he displayed a single ounce of disrespect towards you.

            The way you dived in headfirst to his kiss that night after the gala. He needed me. He said he needed me, then.

            “I would’ve killed him.”

            Jimin doesn’t respond. He turns on his mic instead. “We’re on our way back from the drop zone.”

            Yoongi is the one who responds, clearly having tuned in for sake of being nothing other than nosy. “I’ll meet you on the road, then.”

            With that out of the way, you traverse most of the way back to the road in silence. Jimin no longer hums to himself as you walk, preferring to keep a furrowed brow as he thinks. You almost want to yell at him to spit it out already, but instead you take to reciting your grocery list in your head instead.

            Two gallons of milk.

            Gauze.

            Peanut butter.

            Pain meds.

            Eggs.

            Ammunition.

          �� The snow has stopped falling by the time Jimin finally says what’s on his mind.

            “I would’ve helped you, if it was him.”

            You blink away the list in your mind. “You would’ve?”

            Up ahead, a car pulls to a stop just before the dirt road. Yoongi. “Of course.” Jimin pauses, grabbing your shoulder and squeezing it tightly. “He’s a Kim. He deserves it by default.”

            Snorting, you approach the car. Yoongi rolls down the passenger side window, waving you over. “How’d it go?” He calls out.

            Climbing inside and ignoring Jimin’s pointed sigh as he takes the back seat, you hold your snow shoes to your chest. Yoongi looks expectant, almost hopeful.

            “Good, I think. We’ll hear from them soon. Once their jeweler figures it out.”

            Yoongi nods, pulling away. “That’s the best we can hope for, I guess.” He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you fiddle with the heater.

            “How’re things back at the lodge?”

            He’s quiet for a long moment, making your heart pick up speed. “Well….nothing if not eventful.”

            You meet Jimin’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Yoongi taps the steering wheel to some beat in his head. “Jungkook’s awake.”

--

            The lodge is a private care center. It houses families or other large groups, anonymously, why their loved ones are being cared for. Top doctors are paid very well to look after their patients.

            You hate the lodge.

            Hate the smell, the way it seeps into every surface and fabric within a mile radius. You hate the way you’re forced to smile and be polite while speaking with nurses day in and day out, listening for anything different.

            “No, Ms. Bianchi, there’s been no change.”

            “He’s strong, encourage him to keep fighting, Ms. Bianchi.”

            “He’s lucky to be alive, Ms. Bianchi.”

            He’s lucky. A miracle. A sign of divine help.

            “What do you mean, he’s awake?” Your voice sounds like it’s a thousand miles away as you stare at Yoongi, dumbfounded.

            He shrugs. “Woke up a couple of hours ago. I think Namjoon finally pestered him into waking up, to be honest.”

            Namjoon had taken to spending a significant amount of time in Jungkook’s room. He said it was because the kid had grown on him.

            You suspected it also had something to do with the fact that a certain ex-girlfriend of his was walking the halls.

            “He’s doing ok?”

            “Sounds like it. You’ll have to talk to the doctor.”

            The rest of the drive feels like it takes an eternity, but before you know it you’re pulling in to the large cabin. Yoongi’s hardly put the car into park before you’re leaping out of it, running up the steps to the front entrance. Seokjin’s there, opening it wide for you.

            “Yoongi told you?” He falls into step, keeping pace with your half-run.

            “As soon as we got into the car. He’s alright?”

            “Seems to be. He was asking for you.”

            A mixture of dread and hope form a deadly cocktail in your stomach, sending you into a full run down the hallways. Along the way you pass Hoseok and Namjoon, both of whom cheer wildly as you pass. Already the air feels alive, the world more complete because Jungkook is back in it.

            When you reach the hallway of Jungkook’s room, you don’t see anyone. The nurses must have just left, giving Jungkook his space. Seokjin hangs back, urging you forward.

            “Go on. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

            He doesn’t hang around long enough for you to say what’s on your mind. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath.

            The inside of Jungkook’s room is clean. Several machines stand beside the bed, the familiar sound of his heartbeat welcoming you inside. And a man, laying in the bed with his gazed turned toward the window and the snow-covered forest below.

            “Jungkook.”

            Somehow, impossibly, he hears you. His eyes are on you, a smile on his face. How many times have you imagined this same scene in the past weeks? How many times have you said his name, only to find him deep in his medically induced coma?

            “Hey.”

            His voice. It sounds like sandpaper, but it’s his.

            “You’re awake.”

            “Appears that way.”

            You take another step in, but it’s all you can manage. “You were shot.”

            He smiles ruefully. “I recall.”

            “I-” you stop, eyes snagging on something out of place. “Those flowers. Those weren’t here this morning.”

            Jungkook glances at the lilies on his side table. “Oh? Who are they from, then?” He looks back at you only to find that you haven’t moved. You’re glued to the spot, staring at the flowers. “You alright?”

            From right here in the doorway, the flowers are angled just right. The card pokes up in the front, revealing an embossed snake. Your blood runs cold as you feel the shadow of lips ghosting along your knuckles and a whispered confession.

            Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

            The Kim family crest, sitting just so in the lilies at Jungkook’s bedside. And a laugh, deranged and crooked, ripping from your chest.

next

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[explicit-tae]

Cruel Intentions (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final | Cruel Intentions: Organized Crime

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: mafia!jungkook,

Warning: smut, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, nipple play, handcuffs, iceplay, dirty talk, impregnation kink, sadistic behavior (only slight), creampie, dubcon,

Word Count: 17,174

Description: A look back onto your and Jungkook's relationship days before the wedding - and the decision he makes that causes you to finally escape him.

"You're a man now." Jungkook hears the deep, sinister voice of his father say to him, smirking down to his son. Jungkook wants to laugh - because no 15 year old - freshly turned - would be considered a man. Yet his father had insisted that he was coming of age and would have to act as such. Jungkook is seated in a large, lounge chair in the middle of the dim room. There are mirrors hung on all four walls and his eyes connect with his reflection across from him - the reflection screaming at him to stop this. To not agree with this - to go against his father.

But Jungkook doesn't move - he can't find the will to. No teenager should be inside of here - the Brothel - with their dim red lights to add the lore of seduction and appeal. He can't help the way his heart beats out his chest and the way his palms grow sweaty by each passing second.

Bangtan had an old tradition spanning out for decades. It was an old practice that didn't need to be done any longer - yet his father was nothing but a man that followed old traditional rules. He knows his Hyungs didn't have to do this - he would often wish his surname wasn't Jeon. The Kim's, Park's, Jung's or Min's didn't allow this practice in their homes - they allowed their sons to become men on their own.

"You can enter." he hears his father say as he opens the door and walks out of it.

Jungkook gulps as the girl enters the room. She had to be at least 18 - Bangtan didn't do anything younger than that. He wouldn't call her a woman because her features appeared nearly identical to the girls he went to school with besides the fact that she dressed in skimpy lingerie and saunter seductively into the room and shut the door behind her.

She smiles at Jungkook - one he doesn't return. He doesn't know what to do, so he does nothing when she climbs into his lap. Both of her thighs are hugging his waist closer and her hands roam his body, her lips placing themselves upon his own.

Your eyes widen at Jungkook. His demeanor appears calm after his recant. You're unsure how to speak to him, afraid that you'd end up saying the wrong thing.

After the night you had with Jungkook at the underground casino, you tried anything to get the man to sleep with you. You often told yourself that it wasn't because of Shu-hua - because it wasn't. You at least wanted to go into this honeymoon with him experienced enough. However, Jungkook insisted time and time again that it wasn't the right time - that he was positive you weren't ready. No matter how many times you insisted you were.

Your mind had wandered today after he rejected you once more to how he lost his own virginity. It was different for men unlike women - you've heard many men over the years speak about their virginity and how disposable it was. You pondered if his was the same - sleeping with someone he deemed attractive enough or perhaps a girfriend of his.

That was until he explained that his virginity was lost due to a "coming of age" ceremony his father had put together with a woman of the Brothel. You were astonished at the revelation - even more so when he spoke about it emotionlessly. He declared that it was something that happened for years and he wasn't the exception.

"I-I don't know what to say." you murmur to him. Jungkook rarely speaks of his childhood and past all together - but now you understood why.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Jungkook chuckles.

You're laying down, eyes watching him as he chuckles - as if he hadn't admit his father allowed him to sleep with an older girl just to lose something sacred as virginity.

"It's not everyday you hear something like that." you murmur.

Jungkook shrugs. He places his fingers along your lips and traces them. "I'm not a child anymore." he responds. "And my father isn't alive any longer so...karma I suppose."

You widened your eyes once more but couldn't find the words to say. You allowed Jungkook to trace your lips more as your mind tries to process the information. Was this the reason why Jungkook was the way he is? He had a sick way of thinking at times - but it was as though he was born into toxicity. His father giving away his virginity for decades old tradition to be deemed as a "man" to the man he's became now.

You lick your lips. "Is that something...everyone has to follow?" you ask him after a moment. You couldn't help but ask - you're expected to give this man and child. And no, you were holding off for as long as you could - but it you did ever fall pregnant with a son, the last thing you wanted was for him to lose something sacred to a prositute.

"No." Jungkook responds, glancing away from you. "I have no intentions on continuing that tradition."

You release a sigh of relief. You're unsure why - you told yourself that you had no desire to give Jungkook any children unless it was absolutely needed for the sake of your family. Yet - just the thought of what if. What if you bore a child for Jungkook - a boy at that. You couldn't sit by and allow your son to be treated the same way - go through what his father allowed Jungkook to go through.

But you weren't an imbecil - what Jungkook told you about his father was just the tip of the iceberg. You could only imagine what Jungkook was leaving out and that frightened you more than anything.

"I won't allow our children to go through what I've gone through with that man." Jungkook's words come out cold when he speaks of his father. You tell yourself it's too early to ask - but that doesn't mean you can't listen to him when he announces it. "Nor would I involve them in our drama."

Jungkook swallows. He was just a child when he would tremble behind his elder brother when his father beat his mother. He had no regrets in killing the man that was hurting the mother of his children - but he knew he didn't wish to repeat history. He had no intentions of allowing his children to witness whatever qualms he had with you - no arguments or disagreements. And though Jungkook had no real objective of putting his hands on you, the last thing he ever wanted was for his children to be there witnessing it.

"I want our children to be close like you are with your siblings." Jungkook admits. "I want them to love one another without judgment." Jungkook offers a small smile.

Jungkook knows the reason why you've agreed to stay with him. It doesn't hurt him or make him love you any less - he knows deeply that you are slowly beginning to enjoy your time by his side. The love you had for your family makes him admire you greatly - the fact that you're willing to put your own needs aside for them told him so. You doing anything in your power to attempt to get Hyun-woo help and to even sell yourself to pay off his debts told him you were the perfect woman for him. The perfect woman he could ever ask for the be his wife and the mother of his children.

Jungkook places a kiss on your lips before lifting himself up. "Get up. Hyung says he has a surprised for you."

"Me?" you furrow a brow. "Who?"

"Jimin. Something about," Jungkook lifts his fingers to make air quotations. "making the home appear more domestic."

Soobin enters the station, his eyes following around the amount of men in police uniforms. It was hectic - far too hectic - but that didn't discourage him. He walks to the first officer he could find willing to stop and speak with him - he was an older man that could be around his mother's age. "I-I need to file a police report?" he murmurs, his statement turning into a question. 

It was evident Soobin was out of place having never done this before. The older police officers nod his head and led him away from the rowdy crowd of officers. Soobin sighs as he enters a smaller, quieter room and the officer motions for him to sit down. 

"Alright," the officer crosses his arm. "go on."

Soobin explains the situation - how he met you months prior while you were pregnant and seemingly afraid of civilization. He explained how his mother and him had allowed you to stay with them without asking too many questions. He even had photo evident proof - his hands trembling as he shows the officer the envelope. When he got to the most recent part of you and Jungkook, Soobin's hand began to clench. He felt as though he failed you as a man - not being able to protect you from the very threat you were running away from. 

"So you're telling me this woman...left with her husband?" the officer eyes Soobin who nods. "Willingly?"

Soobin shakes his head. "Y-Yes but she was forced to leave!" he announces. "I just explained the entire situation to you!"

Soobin was becoming stressed about the situation. His mother hasn't returned from the Hospital yet even after you've been gone for a week now. She asked about you and Jin-Seon, ensuring that he was to keep the both of you safe and he had failed not only her - but you and Jin-Seon. The stress of her well-being, on top of the mountain of bills he has to pay for such care and his mind wandering to a dark place when it comes to you. 

"There's nothing I can do about this. It's a marital dispute." the officer shakes his head. 

"Nothing you can do?" Soobin murmurs, his eyes growing wide. "I just told you she ran from him for months! He pointed a gun at me after breaking into my home and you're telling me there's nothing that can be done?!" Soobin wasn't one to lose him temper - he had a high tolerance for bullshit, yet the words coming from the officer didn't make any sense to him. 

"Calm down." the officer raises his hands towards Soobin. "What I can do is take their names down and if something comes up..." the officer makes a few hand gestures in an attempt to speak. "...I might be able to address the situation. As of right now, they're still married and if the woman herself doesn't come forth and state theres any abuse..."

"Nothing can be done." Soobin scoffs. "All I know that his name is Jungkook."

The officer nods his head slowly. 

Soobin lifts himself up and leaves the rowdy police station - it was a waste of his time coming here. No one took him seriously - they never did. His mind was ticking as he made his way down the familiar road to his home. How could no one think about how you acted around Jungkook as suspicious? It was obvious he done something to you that harmed you in a way that would make you want to escape him. 

As Soobin's eyes catch his home he stops in his track at the unfamiliar black car waiting just outside of it. He cannot see anything inside of it, the tint being fairly dark. There's no tags on the car and his mind is screaming at him to run the opposite way - but he doesn't. His eyes doesn't leave the car as he makes his way to his home - so much so that he doesn't see the figure seated on his steps. 

"You must be Soobin."

Soobin nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice he hears. His head snaps to it. The man was tall with broad shoulders - dark hair covering his forehead as he holds one hand a large briefcase and the other inside his pants pocket. 

"Who are you?" Soobin attempts to stand tall but it's visibly obvious he's scared shitless.  No one visits them and having Jungkook and this unknown man come within a week was like having alarms ringing in his head. 

"My apologies. My name is Kim Seokjin." the man chuckles. "I am here to talk with you. Do you mind if we go inside?"

"I do mind, actually." Soobin nods.

Seokjin's smile falters but he doesn't dwell on it. "Alright." he nods. He proceeds to take his hand out of his pocket and hold the briefcase up. "I would like to give this to you."

Soobin glances at the black briefcase and then up at Seokjin. "What is it?" he asks. "And who are you? Why are you here?"

Seokjin opens the briefcase. Soobin's eyes widen at the rolled cash stacked neatly inside. It was as though the briefcase shined a light upon him. It was diffult to look away from that much amount of cash, but he does. "What do you want?"

"Think of this as..." Seokjin shrugs. "A thank you courtesy of Jeon Jungkook. For taking care of his wife and son."

Soobin feels his throat tighten. His heart beats at hearing Jungkook's name mixed with 'wife' and 'son'. 

"Get off of my property." Soobin snaps. He feels sick - ready to vomit up anything in a few seconds. He pushes past Seokjin and places his key into the hole to unlock the door. "I don't need that mans money."

Seokjin slams his hand onto the front door just as Soobin was ready to slam it. "I know your mother isn't in the best condition. You can use this for whatever bills come your way."

Soobin clenches his jaw. Jungkook had a great amount of nerve for allowing someone to come here and buy him and his silence - especially using his mother as an excuse as to why he would need it. 

"Jungkook thinks he can flash money around and everything would be alright?" Soobin hisses at Jin. "After he broke into my home, put a gun on me and take Y/N and Jin-Seon against her will?"

Jin takes a step back. He hadn't heard about the entirety of the situation concerning Jungkook and Soobin - and he really didn't want to know. The fact that Soobin remained alive still to this day was remarkable - but he can thank Y/N and Jin-Seon being present for that. 

"Tell Jungkook there's a special place in Hell just for him." and before Jin can respond, the door is slammed in his face. 

Jungkook was no fool to Jimin's action. His hyung done this time and time again for years - and you being his fiance wasn't going to stop him. Jimin was like a magnet that made anyone attracted to him naturally but Jungkook would admit seeing the two of you laugh and smile at one another makes something stir in him. You're seated besides him - too close for his liking - both cooing at the small kitten in your arms.

Jimin had come by the estate with a small, meowing kitten. It's high-pitched meows make Jungkook's head hurt. The black ball of fur was now playing with your wiggling fingers, wide emerald eyes following their every move. He scowls, shaking his head. He wasn't a cat person in the slightest - but he knows you're far too smitten with the little feline now. Your eyes are sparkling at the meowing creature.

"It's so cute!" you coo, lifting the kitten up to rub your nose against it. "I just want to eat you."

"Please don't." Jungkook deadpans, his narrowing eyes staring holes into the kitten.

You roll your eyes at Jungkook but go back to rubbing noses with the kitten. Jimin smiles besides you, placing his hands on the kittens little head and rubbing gently. Jungkook tilts his head, eyes watching Jimin.

"Thank you so much, Jimin!" you giggle to the man, placing the kitten back in your lap. "It's so unexpected."

"I thought you two needed something to make this place," Jimin glances around the modern estate - all dull colors of black and grey. "more domesticated. It's far too quiet."

"Only because Soo-ah isn't here." you murmur but smile at Jimin regardless. "I'm sure Rasu will liven this place up."

"What the hell is a Rasu?" Jungkook scoffs, crossing his arms. Jimin raises a brow, simply knowing his dongsaemg was jealous of a kitten. He hated when the attention wasn't on him - just like a child.

"His name." you declare, glancing at Jungkook just to roll your eyes at him. "It's cute."

"It is." Jimin nods in agreement, sending Jungkook a smirk. "We should get him a bell for his collar. We don't want Kookie to step on his."

Jungkook snickers. It would be a great idea - the kitten was jet black except for the small white stripe on its neck. He would blend in far too well and he wouldn;'t hear the end of it if he accidently stepped or sat on the small feline.

Jungkook couldn't do anything while he sats ignored while you and Jimin play with the kitten. Jimin was a natural people pleaser and his mind tells him that it wasn't fair that you warmed up to Jimin easily with just a kitten as a gift while he had to pay for your acceptance. Maybe it was childish to think of it. Jimin wouldn't try anything with you - with another woman from a man he didn't care for? Yes. But not you - but that doesn't make the boiling in his blood lessen.

Day after day while you keep the kitten in the home, Jimin has visited. He had brought far too many gifts for the kitten - different types of wet food and toys. Even though you had dragged him to the nearest pet store to get everything for the kitten - customed kitten shirts, toys the damn feline touched once and never again and mountains of wet and dry food and treats.

Jungkook sat in disbelief when you and him sat at the breakfast table and you placed a bowl of food on the chair next to you for the kitten to eat, claiming that he also deserved a chair for himself.

Jungkook was growing irritated with the kitten. It was obvious that he had made himself far too at home. He didn't sleep in the expensive cat tree he was forced to buy - or the expensive cat bed or wall hammock you insisted the feline needed. He preferred to sleep in cabinets he had no idea how he got into. That, or the feline made his way inside the bathroom - somehow - and would sleep right inside the tub.

Jungkook was tired of hearing how grateful you were of Jimin for gifting you the gift of Rasu - the small emerald eye cat that lived a better life than most adults. Jimin still came by to check on Rasu - but Jungkook understood that it was just to fuck with him. Jimin enjoyed riviling his dongsaeng just because he knew he could. Jungkook was an extrememly jealous man.

So much so that he found himself now inside a pet store with Soo-ah, searching for his own gift for you and him. He could make his own home domesticated.

"Uncle! What about this one?" Soo-ah cries, her wide eyes staring at a puppy.

Jungkook shakes his head as he tears his eyes away from the tiny tea-cup puppy. "That one is too small, Soo-ah. I might sit on him."

Soo-ah pouts but goes onto the next one.

Jungkook already had a cart full of items. Dog toys, collars food and supplements. Now all he needed next was the dog. Having a pet before having children with you would show you that he too can be responsible - show you how domesticated he could be.

"Uncle!" Soo-ah tugs on his hand. "Look at this one! It's so cute!"

Jungkook nods in agreement. The puppy was black and brown and tilts its head at them as they look through the small cage. Soo-ah wiggles her hand between cage to pet the puppys head.

"I think I want this one." Jungkook smiles to himself. The puppy appeared calm enough and eventually he'd be a bigger dog.

As Jungkook enters the home with Soo-ah in one arm and Bam - the energetic puppy - in the other. You're seated in the sitting room with Jimin - for whatever reason - when he saunters through.

"Hyung," Jungkook smiles tightly. "you're here as if you don't have your own home. Or wives." Jungkook murmurs. "Do I need to set a room for you?"

Jimin snickers and nods. "That would be nice." he retorts, offering Jungkook a sickly sweet smile. "Is that a dog?"

"Yes it is." Jungkook beams. "I'm more of a dog person."

You furrow your brows at Jungkook, eyes watching the dog sniff around in his surroundings.

"How are we going to have a dog and a cat together?" you ask. You refused to allow Rasu on the ground with such a big puppy.

"Y/N, baby, that's just a myth of cats and dogs being enemies." Jungkook waves you off. "We're pet parents now." he beams, eyes glancing at Jimin.

Jimin wants to laugh at Jungkook's jealousy. What he was willing to do to one up him was amazing, but it was fresh to see Jungkook happy with you. It was also great to see you - the same woman who tried time after time to escape him - now adjust to your surroundings. Soo-ah loved Jungkook with all her heart and Jimin knows he feels the same. If Jungkook only knew that each time he visited you and Rasu that all you and he ever did was discuss him, his dongsaeng wouldn't be jealous now.

But Jimin wouldn't tell Jungkook - it was a private conversation, after all. He would simply continue watching how far Jungkook would go to attempt to win you over when you were already.

You sigh but smile at Jungkook. "What's his name?"

"Bam!" Jungkook declares and the dog barks as if recognizing his own name.

You giggle and nod your head. "Bam and Rasu." you coo, placing the kitten on the ground next to the puppy who paid the small feline no mind and continued to sniff around.

Jimin places his hand beneath his chin as he watches you and Jungkook. He could only pray Jungkook doesn't do anything to make you lose you - because little did the younger know, he had you right where he wanted you.

Soobin carries the flower arrangement in his arms - nothing special, a few flowers he embarrassingly picked along the way to give to his mother. He was informed she was awake now and he wished nothing more than to see her. The halls were quiet - surprisingly so - as he makes his way to her room.

Days have passed since he met one of Jungkook's...men? Friend? He wasn't sure who the tall man with broad shoulders was to him, all he did know was that he had the audacity to come with a briefcase full of money. It made his blood boil to think that he could be bought off by Jungkook - the man who taken you from him.

Soobin wasn't a possessive man. You were your own person, he was aware. Yet you cried when you left with him. The months he has gotten to know you, he hasn't seen a ring on your finger. You haven't spoke of your past with Jungkook but Soobin was no idiot to see that whatever he's done to you was nothing but abuse.

Soobin rounded the corner, his mother's room the last one to the right. He glances at the clock on the far end of the hallway and sighs. There was still no word from the police - he called back hours later asking if they were willing to investigate and now Soobin knows that "We're looking into it" means that they weren't. It was a ploy to shut him up.

Soobin straightens his back as he reaches his mothers room. The door was cracked only slightly and he pushes it back to see his mother smiling. Who she was smiling at was what caught him by surprise. "Who are you?" Soobin asks, eyeing the man.

Byeol turns her eyes to glare at her son. "Don't be rude, Soobin." she hisses lowly. She then turns to the unknown man and smiles. "This is my son - Soobin." she introduces.

The man turns his eyes to Soobin and nods. Soobin eyes his appearances - all black attire with jewlery that appeared more expensive than anything he could even think to afford. The man stood tall - even if he was shorter than Soobin - and eyes him with intense eyes, but the smile on his lip never falters.

"Why is he here?" Soobin asks his mother, not caring how rude he was sounding. The last time he saw an unknown man, it had to do with Jungkook. He didn't need any of his men coming around his mother.

"Soobin." Byeol's words were stern and final. It told him he needed to stop with his disrespect.

"My name's Park Jimin." the man holds out his hand to Soobin who hesitantly grabs it - only does so because his mother is watching him. "I'm the man who has loaned your mother the money for her surgery."

Soobin snatches his hands away and turns to his mother. "A loan shark?" he hisses. "I thought-"

"You have enough things to worry about with Jin-Seon and Y/N." Byeol shakes her head. "I don't need you worrying about me, as well."

Jimin hums to himself as he smiles at Soobin. Soobin is no fool to catch the glint in his eyes and his breathing quickened. He goes to place the flower arrangement on the nearest table to see that he was late. There was already one there - this one was expensive. He couldn't name any of the flowers arranged. "W-Who brought this?" he asks his mother, eyeing the flowers.

"A colleague of mine." Jimin spoke up.

Soobin shoves his flowers next to it and turns to face Jimin.

"Jeon Jungkook." Jimin stares straight at Soobin as he speaks. "He's also an investor such as myself. We love to give families a second chance and lift a little weight off their shoulders."

Soobin feels his palms go sweaty under Jimin's gaze. Whoever Jungkook was, he had an abundance of influence. That told Soobin that this was a powerful man that had the world at the palms of his hands - and an unlimited supply of men willing to come to his aid.

"Can I speak with you outside, Jimin-ssi?" Soobin murmurs, not waiting for a response before he walks out the door himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, contemplating how he was going to explain this to his mother when she returned home.

Soobin hears the door close behind him. He turns to face Jimin to see the man have a bored look on his face. "Tell Jungkook he has no right to keep interfering in my life." Soobin hisses at Jimin who only smirks. "I'm serious!" he then hisses at the smirking man. "I don't want his money or yours."

"You know," Jimin leans away from the door. He takes a step towards Soobin "you're ungrateful. I haven't even heard a thank you come from your lips." the man says, tapping Soobin's lip with his index finger - just to fuck with the fuming man.

"Don't touch me!" Soobin hisses, clenching his fist. He takes a few steps back from Jimin and hisses once more, "What the hell do you want? What does he want? He's taken everything already-"

"You mean Y/N?" Jimin furrows a brow with a scoff. "You mean...another man's wife? My dongsaeng's wife at that?" Jimin shakes his head and soon he's laughing - an amused laugh that does nothing but mock Soobin. "You were trying to play house with a woman and a child that didn't belong to you?"

Soobin gulps. Jimin's laugh makes him want to do nothing but wipe that smirk off of his lips - but if Jimin was anything like Jungkook, that only meant that he was armed and just as narcissistic as him. Possibly even pyschotic.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jimin pouts his lips, feigning pity. "Aww, that's sad. Regardless, boy, my dongsaeng did you a favor by sparring your life. Of course, you can thank Y/N and Jin-Seon for being there for that." Jimin steps closer and with each step Soobin takes one back. "Jungkook would never put his wife and child in harm's way. And now, they're better off without," Jimin eyes Soobin up and down, a snicker leaving his lips. "you. And that run down shack you call a home."

There it was once more - someone talking down on him and the home they lived in. He doesn't want to show it, yet it does cause a sting in his heart at the harsh words Jimin says. Similar to the ones Jungkook said to him. It was evident what they meant by it - he wasn't good enough for you. He didn't have the money and power Jungkook had. He couldn't afford expensive cars and couldn't have you live in a high-end mansion that he was positive Jungkook had you in. By the way Jungkook scoffed at the home they resided in and stated frankly that his son could never stay there. Now Jimin repeating it...

"What do you guys want from me?"

Jimin catches the crack in the young boy's voice. He pitied him, of course. He was innocent in this - it wasn't Soobin that took you and held you hostage. You left on your own accord. However, Jungkook would blame him until his last breath out of pure rage and jealousy. Soobin had the luxury of being with you while pregnant with Jin-Seon. He had the chance to witness you grow larger as the months pushed along and saw the pregnancy glow. It's one of the best moments to be around your wife as she's carrying your child - he would know having not just one wife and daughter, but two.

Jungkook knowing that Soobin - someone he deemed lesser than himself and not having the resources he did - had the chance to be with you and hold his child before he did...Jimin shakes his head. Soobin was a lucky man to be alive today and again, Jin-Seon and you were his only weaknesses.

"Stop going to the police." Jimin finally answers. "They aren't going to do anything but tell us."

Soobin stiffens. He tries to look for any detection that Jimin was playing any mind games on him - but he wasn't. No wonder the police didn't appear the least bit concerned with your whereabouts.

"You're lucky he called my hyung and not Jungkook." Jimin continues. "Even though he promised Y/N that he wouldn't hurt you. The 6 of us made no such promises."

Jimin could see the glint in Soobin's eyes - a glint of a man recollecting his own life before his eyes. He felt for the young boy, once again he had no dog in this fight. He appeared to have a good soul - rare for a man in this day of age - yet he couldn't allow him to come between you and Jungkook. The sheriff being on their payroll only meant they had the advantage, but there was no saying what lengths Soobin would go through in his attempts to bring you back to him.

"Your mother's surgery bills have already been paid for." Jimin added. "You're alive and well. So is she."

A bitter chuckle leaves Soobin's lips. "You'll kill me?" he asks, his eyes on the ground. "For caring for a friend?"

"I'll kill you if you try to come after Y/N or my nephew - yes." Jimin responds without a second thought, giving him a nod.

Jimin wasn't one for threats nor did he prefer killing - but he wasn't against it. Jungkook was happy again - crawling out of the dark hole he placed himself in while you were gone. He actually smiled again and when he would visit to see Jin-Seon, there was never a time Jungkook's eyes would leave the baby for long. Any whine had Jungkook in a frezny wondering what was wrong with his son. Jungkook never turned down anything that involved Jin-Seon - a changing, washing or feeding. It reminded Jimin of himself when he first became a father and it was truly a beautiful sight to see.

"I'll be taking my leave." Jimin announced. He doesn't wait for Soobin to respond before he turns down towards the hall. 

Soobin watches Jimin's back, his mind clouded with the new found information. He gulps and sniffles before realizing that he's crying. Jimin's figure get's smaller by the seconds until he can no longer see him nor hear his footsteps. 

A month has passed far too quickly for your liking. One moment you're in the large estate with Jungkook, agreeing to marry him for the sake of your family to now depart the country and entering Kefalonia, Greece. How Jungkook managed to get a hold of a private plane for your family to come shouldn't shock you as much as it does. When Jungkook stated that your wedding would be the best - far better than his Hyungs - you didn't believe how much he was willing to put into it.

You never been to Greece before - the brightness of it all with the clearness of the water marvels you. However, you're nervous as the seconds go by. You never imagined yourself getting married - and even though this isn't the ideal marriage moment, you're still fearful. You try to ignore the circumstances of why you agreed to be with Jungkook and at least make an attempt to enjoy yourself. Greece was beautiful and knowing Jungkook, he was paying a hefty amount of money to just win the one-sided competition with his Hyungs.

Your siblings were astonished by the luxury of the land you were residing on - all having several condos for each family not far from the beach. You loved seeing their faces of happiness to be away on vacation. None of you ever vacation outside of the country somewhere luxurious. It makes your decision to be with Jungkook a greater satisfaction - to know that you weren't just thinking of yourself but of your entire family. You just wished Hyun-woo could be here but understanding that he was in rehab was the best gift you could be given.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist as you were staring out the large window of the master bedroom. You could see the others enjoying their stay, already playing at the beach. Soo-ah and Hye-jin were burying Namjoon in the sand while Momoka and Hee-sun were dipping their own feet into the water, babies in their arms.

"Do you want to go and join them?" Jungkook asks. He places his chin on your head as he speaks. He relished in being with you now with only a day away from being married to you.

You shake your head. You turn away from the window and make your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind you until he's laying beside you, arms wrapped lazily around you. He inhales the scent of your hair - the vanilla aroma engulfing his nostrils. It always calms him - the familiar scent of you.

"I'm nervous." you admit, eyes blinking to the ceiling. "I don't like to be stared at."

Jungkook snickers, but grips your waist.

"I'm serious." you groan, turning away on your side away from him. "What if I fall on my face?"

"I'll fall then." Jungkook chuckles. "So we'll both look a mess. Together."

You roll your eyes but smile slightly. You place your hand over Jungkook's that is rubbing along your thigh tracing random shapes. The silence that falls between you and Jungkook is comfortable and welcoming. You would have never thought that you'd be here with him willingly after your life over the course of months - nearing a year. It's insane to think that you once despised Jungkook to not minding if you did spend life with him.

Yes, there was the thought of what if's. What if you didn't get involved with Jungkook? What if you didn't go to the underground Black Market and offer up your virginity - or worse, what if Jungkook wasn't there and you would've been bought by some older man? You wouldn't be in what you were now - but was this truly as bad as you initially thought? Your family adored Jungkook and they now lived comfortably. You didn't have to work - not that you minded it - and it was relaxing not living check to check.

'Jungkook could be worse.' you tell yourself, snickering mentally. You couldn't believe you laid with him now willingly and even taking his side. Jungkook could be extremely more controlling than he was. Sure, he chipped you - but he also chipped himself to make you comfortable with getting it. Yes, he forced you into a marriage - but another man wouldn't do what he's done for your family. You couldn't imagine another man managing to get your brother out of prison and into rehab.

Jungkook was a patient man. He didn't force you into anything you truly didn't want. Your mind tells you this because, truly, what man wouldn't have coherced you into sex by now? Sometimes you think you're the one constantly forcing yourself upon him.

Your mind tells you that maybe living side by side with Jungkook wouldn't be too bad. Maybe you'll grow to love him like he claims to love you. Maybe you could eventually give him the children he often speaks of - but not too soon. You didn't forget the birth control pills in your possession, grateful that Jungkook hadn't found them just yet. You would give him the benefit of the doubt as a husband - but you can't trust him just yet as a father.

"What are you thinking about?" Jungkook's words startles you back into reality.

"About you." you admit, leaning back against him. "And us."

"Good things?"

You nod.

"Good." Jungkook murmurs. "You're going to look beautiful in the dress."

"You already saw me in it." you retort. You turn to face him again to find him glancing down at you. "Defeats the purporse of complimenting me."

"Never." Jungkook declares. "It doesn't matter if I already saw you in it. I'm still going to cry."

"You're being dramatic again." you laugh, but the gesture does make your heart warm. "If you cry then that'll make my sisters cry. Then I will cry and I can't risk ruining my makeup."

Jungkook laughs aloud, throwing his head back. You follow suit, joining in on the laughter. You feel Jungkook brings you closer to him. His embrace is warm and it reminds you of the many times you and him were entangled like this - far too many times to count.

You're the first to lean in. You connect your lips to his urgency. It wasn't long before the two of you were tangled together, hands roaming the other body. You're left breathing heavily when Jungkook disconnects your lips, just to kiss along your neck, even nibbling. His hands raise to squeeze your breast through your clothes, lips kissing your collarbone.

Jungkook hums, swirling his tongue onto your skin. "Wanna taste you." he huffs.

You could only nod your head. You weren't capable of deny Jungkook when it came to his tongue.

Jungkook doesn't waste any time in tugging the shirt off of you. He dives into your breast, wrapping his mouth around one nipple while pinching and tugging the other. Arching your back, you huffed out a moan at the sensation.

Jungkook could suck onto your breast for hours - he was just a man. There wasn't any pleasure he got from it - but to get to see you squirming beneath him, moaning out his name and getting to touch you adds to the excitement. He's had sex with many women - it came with the job - but couldn't care less if he pleasured them enough. Yet with you, pleasuring you solely was enough for him to cum. Your moans were always so sweet for him and they often replayed in his mind time and time again - even when the two of you weren't intimate.

Jungkook's fingers trail between your legs, lightly tapping your clothed clit to tease you. He trails his lips down, fingers hook under your shorts and tugs them of, your panties going along with them.

Jungkook grunts when his fingers feel just how wet you were already for him. As much as he enjoyed kissing and sucking your skin - it was his favorite to get to watch the way you squirmed while he fingered you. You were tight, but his fingers always entered almost effortlessly.

Jungkook hovers above you, his eyes trained on the way his fingers play with your clit. Your stomach is churning at the pace he sets - Jungkook always dove right into it but you never could complain. You relished when Jungkook put your needs before his own, content with not getting anything in return from you.

Jungkook places two of his fingers into his mouth and shivers. "I'm gonna taste you now." he rushes between your legs without a second thought, tongue flat against your clit. Both of his hands roughly slap against your thighs to allow him entrance before he goes to ravishing you.

You're arching your back in seconds - Jungkook's tongue always has this effect on you. He doesn't hold himself back, his head swinging back and forth while his tongue assaults your clit. The squelching sounds mixed with your sweet moans are an added bonus. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging on it.

Jungkook moans against your clit. He adored when you pulled his hair, his high tolerance of pain being nothing but a blessing for him. He loved when you slapped him, pulled his hair - even the light choking. It gave him the masochistic pleasure - only when it came to you, however. He could never allow a woman he didn't love be dominant over him. Besides, you thrived in being sadistic to him.

Jungkook wouldn't say he was a complete masochist - a woman like you always had to be put in her place. You loved to be choked just as much as you loved choking him - he would say the two of you were truly meant for one another.

Jungkook lifts himself from between your legs and places a quick kiss upon your lips. You yelp when Jungkook flips you around, his back now firmly on the bed and he's tugging you to sit upon him. Jungkook's guilty pleasure was you sitting on his face - maybe it was the lack of air he had, but he would never complain. It was a good way to go out.

You squeeze Jungkook's thighs, biting your lip at the pace Jungkook sets as he licks and kisses on your clit. You lick your lips, eyes focusing on the bulge in Jungkook's shorts. You place your hand upon it, squeezing it tightly. You could feel the vibration from the groan Jungkook does - and it entices you to do it again. You dip your hand beneath it to get out his cock and it sprungs out. His cock was always so pretty - the tip already dripping with pre-cum.

Jungkook's hands rub your body, the sensation of your naked skin on his palm sends goosebumps and shivers around his body. His fingernails dig into your thighs when he feels your tongue - so warm and soft - against the tip of his cock.

You wrap your tongue around the tip of Jungkook's cock, moaning at the salty taste of pre-cum. You would've never thought you'd enjoy sucking cock - especially Jungkook's. The way he would whimper and moan each time you'd wrap a simple tongue around his cock gives you the power to suck harder and faster - even deeper.

Which is what you do.

You bring his entire cock into your mouth and bob your head. You could feel the saliva dripping down your chin within seconds, but it does nothing but turn you on. Your hands wrap around the length of his cock and stroke him as you suck.

Jungkook curses, jutting his hips. He squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lips. You always knew how to suck him so well, always using your throat to pleasure him. You didn't understand how much he adored you - how much he was willing to do for you. You had him in the palm of your hands - literally and metaphorically.

Jungkook enters two fingers inside of you, curling them. He kisses your clit as he pumps his fingers inside of you. You're tight, yet he could still feel you clench around his fingers and he couldn't stop himself from thinking how tight you'd be around him.

You lean back against Jungkook, cock in your mouth but you couldn't suck. His fingers pumping inside of you clouds your mind. You feel it deep in your stomach - the churning and rumbling. You begin to breathe heavily and you remove his cock from your mouth. You hung your head, fidgeting in his grasp.

Jungkook is positive that you're going to cum - he knows your body well now. You're jerk in his embrace, shake your head, clench around him then...

"Fuck!" you hiss, arching your back as you were cumming around his fingers.

Jungkook hums, removing his fingers from inside of you. He licks them, closing his eyes and sighing. He was horny - excessively so. But, as you rest he was going to rub one out in the shower before dinner - it appeared to be enough for him. As Jungkook places you onto the bed beside him, he goes to kiss your cheek. Before he could, you turn your head towards him and place a kiss upon his lips.

Jungkook melts into the kiss. He could feel your hands grip his shirt to bring him closer. "You seem happy." Jungkook chuckles against your lips. "And horny."

"I am." you murmur, kissing along his jaw. "Shouldn't you be?"

Jungkook licks his lips when he feels you nibble on his neck. "I am."

"Then we should do something about that."

Your hands trailing lower and lower with your lips kissing, sucking and nibble has Jungkook weak.

"What do you suggest we do?" Jungkook gulps. He understands fully what you mean - but we wants you to say it.

"Would it be too vulgar to ask you to fuck me?"

Jungkook shakes his head. He laughs aloud, placing a hand onto his head. You knit your brows at his laugh, glaring at him.

"I'm not fucking you." Jungkook says. "That sounds...too harsh."

You sigh.

"Don't look at me like that." Jungkook quips. "You're a virgin. I can't just fuck you like some animal, baby." Jungkook places a hand on your cheek. "It has to be more special than that, don't you think?"

You nod your head slowly, shrugging your shoulders. You were never the daydream type of girl that imagined rose petals and candles for her first time. But your mind was telling you that you understood why Jungkook doesn't want to go through with it. He was a man that didn't have a say in the way he lost his own virginity - no matter how desensitized he's become of it.

"I don't want to be a virgin on our Honeymoon." you claim. "I want to know...what I'm doing."

"You're not going to be a pro in a few days." Jungkook couldn't help but laugh. "What's the rush? You don't need to do this because you think I want to."

"I'm not." you assure. "Is it bad that I want to have sex with my fiance?"

Jungkook hums, he likes the sound of you calling him that. Still, he couldn't fathom just fucking you - not while you still had a sense of purity left. He didn't want you to assume he wanted nothing but sex from you or that there was a time limit.

Even though there was - in a way, but he doesn't know yet how to tell you.

"It'll hurt." Jungkook murmurs.

"Eventually it'll feel good."

"You aren't going to let this go, huh?" Jungkook's thumb is now rubbing your cheek. He watches your lips tug into a smile before he exhales. "If that's what you want...then alright."

Widening your eyes, you lean forward to stare at him. Jungkook continues to lay down, watching your expression.

"Okay...how do we do this?" you ponder aloud and all Jungkook can do is laugh.

You couldn't keep your hands off of Jungkook - even after it's only been 2 days - leaving just a few more until your wedding. The first night was awkward - weird even. You weren't sure how to feel once it was done and over with - but you recall thinking to yourself; "Was that it?" The act of virginity always appeared to be an act that would be either the best moment in life or the complete worse - to you it was right in the middle. It wasn't bad - but it couldn't be good with Jungkook's nerves getting to him. He was nervous and didn't want to hurt you - constantly asking if you were okay and needed him to stop.

However, you were the first one to initiate the sex that same night, trying to get the feel of it. It wasn't as awkward as the first time and Jungkook was surprised how well you were growing accustomed to him. So much so that you would request being on top of him, asking questions if it felt good and were you doing everything right - and he said yes each time. There wasn't a wrong way to ride him, he'd enjoy it either way.

By the fifth time the two of you had sex there wasn't any awkwardness or embarrassment. You went back to your sadistic ways - slapping him the way he enjoyed, pulling and tugging on his hair that had him cumming and wrapping your soft hands around his neck. He was convinced that there was nothing you could do to him that he wouldn't love - that could be deadly for him, yet he didn't care.

Jungkook remained astonished at your high sex drive. He wasn't complaining and never would when it came to you, yet he'd never come to the conclusion that you would want him all the time. When you weren't enganging in sex, you often asked questions about it - pondering just what he liked to do in bed. That's how Jungkook finds himself here with you in Greece in a sex shop. The embarrassed look on your face makes him laugh and it doesn't help that he keeps teasing you about it.

Sex shops usually didn't have carriers - yet the nice clerk had offered a bag once she noticed Jungkook holding more than 5 items in his arms.

"Who's getting handcuffed?" you murmur towards Jungkook as he throws a pair of cuffs into the carrier.

"Doesn't matter to me." Jungkook smiled - and he meant it. Just the thought of you cuffing him has him thinking of ways to not get excited just by the thought.

But even the thought of you being cuffed to the bed excites Jungkook once more. He gulps.

"You can get stuff, too." Jungkook assures. "Whatever you're into."

You bite your lip. It wasn't like you thought about coming to a sex shop and exploring their vast items.

Jungkook watches intently as you look around, touching stuff before shaking your head.

"You don't have to be embarrassed." Jungkook places a hand on your shoulder. "If you see anything you like then we can get it. If not then it's alright."

You and Jungkook leave that shop with many new items. You grabbed nipple clamps and a blindfold, always being intrigued by them. Jungkook grabbing a vibrator surprised you, but he only gives you a toothy grin when you ask about it. It was a tough night attempting to get away from the amount of people - Jimin insisting the two of you attend an event on the beach while Taehyung asks if you wanted to accompany him to a jazz show. It was nearly embarrassing to say you were blowing everyone off just to have sex with one another.

As you enter the room, one thing soon leads to another and somehow you're naked with Jungkook aggressively fingering you. He's hovering above you, eyes intently watching the way you're clenching around his fingers. You're so tight that he adds a third finger, arousal dripping down his wrists. He's thankful that you've agreed to be hand-cuffed, it makes the entire situation much more exciting.

"Let's try something new." your ears catch Jungkook's voice - a moaning statement.

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you and lifts himself off of the bed. You watch as he goes towards the black bag of sex toys. You lick your lips and gulp. Jungkook returns with a smirk on his lips, the blindfold in one hand and the vibrator in the other.

"Let's put these on you." Jungkook hums and climbs upon the bed.

You nod, offering a short smile. Jungkook places the blindfold over your eyes - the cotton mask hiding the world around you. You could hear and feel Jungkook moving around the bed. "I'm going to try something, alright?"

You nod your head and continue to wait. You hear clanking metal and now are left even more confused until you feel a sudden coldness on your nipples. You yelp and jerk your back - startled by the sudden coldness.

"Have you ever heard of iceplay?" Jungkook's words come through your ears and you conclude that he's directly next to you.

"N-No."

"We'll see if you like it." Jungkook murmurs.

You feel Jungkook trail the ice along your breast and nipples, his lips - warm and wet - kissing and sucking along your neck. The cold touch of the ice feels weird upon your skin, but you wouldn't say it doesn't arouse you. It brings out an odd erotic feeling within you that has you moaning for more - and Jungkook delivers. He trails the ice along your belly button and between your thighs before he stops at your clit. You're shivering at the feeling, but you don't want him to stop.

Jungkook loved observing your reaction to the ice - it was expressive as always and he knew you liked what he was doing. It was amazing to see you now - handcuffed and allowing him to do whatever he desired to feed his sexual desire for you, the way you'd moaned his name so lovingly - he would do anything in his power to keep you comfortable and safe just as you felt at this moment.

Jungkook kisses your cheek before taking hold of the vibrator. He goes between your legs, eyes catching the way you bite your lip. He turns on the vibrator, the buzzing sound loud and powerful. He kisses your clit before placing the vibrator against it.

You arch your back, releasing a loud moan. Your stomach sucks in as you inhale, the vibrations driving you crazy. Jungkook holds your thigh open each time there's an attempt from you to close them - his eyes adoring the way you drip onto the bed.

"I want you to cum, baby." Jungkook mumbles. He removes his hand from your thighs to enter 3 fingers inside of you.

You jump at pressure and in normal jungkook fashion, he doesn't hesitate in pumping inside of you. The vibrations along your clit mixed with Jungkook fucking his fingers into you has you tugging against the handcuffed restraints. You shake your head side to side - wishing you could watch Jungkook between your legs, but the blindfold adds even more arousal to you.

Jungkook presses the vibrator harder against your clit, his fingers not halting their pumping. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers." Jungkook chuckles, curling his fingers. "Are you going to cum?"

You nod your head hastily - you could feel the pressure coming from deep within you. Jungkook knows when you were close to cumming - the way you'd begin to gasp for air, clench your stomach and around his fingers.

"I love to see you cum for me, baby." Jungkook moans - his own cock was hard and throbbing, itching to just be inside of you. He was sure that he would be content with just watching you be pleasured - but now knowing how your walls felt; so tight, wet and warm...

Jungkook groans at the sight of you dripping onto his wrists, your throat releasing a loud moan. You're curses out lowly to yourself as your high gets to you. Jungkook nods his head with a smirk on his lips. "You're so beautiful when you cum for me, baby. I love it."

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you and the vibrator from your clit, turning it off. You're twitching while attempting to catch your breath. You lean your head back once you feel Jungkook remove the blindfold from your eyes. You blink a few times to adjust to the sudden light - Jungook's smirking down at you. 

"Take these cuffs off of me." you murmur to Jungkook with a bite of your lip.

Jungkook does just that, making sure to rub your wrists to make sure they weren't hurting from being in the same position for who knows how long. "Are you-" Jungkook feels your palm connect to his cheek and he's stunned - but it doesn't frighten nor anger him. He feels you climb into his , wrapping your legs around him. 

You crash your lips onto his and Jungkook wastes no time. He moans when he feels your tongue enter his mouth, the both of you fighting for dominance - but he had no problem with allowing you to dominate him.

As your tongue dances with his, your fingers catch Jungkook's hair and you yank on it. The moan that the man lets out makes you clench around nothing. There was something about Jungkook that you admire - the way he allows you to hit him as hard as you wanted and never does anything about it. No matter how hard you'd pull his hair, he would just smile at you with lust filled eyes. When your hands wrapped around his neck and he coughed for air but the way his hands would rest lovingly on your waist - it excites you. 

But even you had your moments. As much as you relished witnessing Jungkook - the powerful man who had men at his disposal - become completely submissive by you, you also cherish when he does the same. It was insane to think that only days ago you were a virgin and now you and Jungkook couldn;t keep your hands away from one another. The way you felt around him was complete - as iconic as it was to admit to yourself. The same man who bought your virginity and ordered for you to be his wife was now the man who made you feel...loved? Cared for?

Whatever the feeling was, you prayed it'd never changed.

"I want to ride you." you whisper in Jungkook's ear - sending goosebumps up his arm. 

Jungkook nods his head hastily. He'd allow you to do anything you wanted to him - that fact was obvious. 

While you were naked for him, Jungkook was fully clothed. Not for long - he yanks down his shorts and removes his shirt. He begins to lay back and hold your waist when you stop him. "I don't want you to touch me." 

Jungkook knits his brows. "What do you mean?"

You fight the satisfied smile from forming onto your lips. Your eyes glances towards the handcuffs laying onto the bed. You grab them in a quick movement and placing one onto Jungkook's wrist. "It's your turn." you tease, blowing him a quick kiss before handcuffing the other wrist behind his back. 

Jungkook can feel the excitement running through him when you push him to sit against the headboard. He appears like a child in a candy store - doe eyes wide and waiting for you to do your next move. 

And you do - not hesitating when you sit onto his cock that was already painfully correct for you. 

"Shit." Jungkook clenches his eyes shut. You're wrapping around him just right and he's positive that he wont be lasting for long. 

Placing both hands onto Jungkook's shoulder, you dig your nails into it. It causes Jungkook to squirm, but he couldn't care less if you'd draw blood doing so. 

You start your pace in riding him - you weren't a professional at this so it feels weird. But Jungkook was having the time of his life no matter how inexperience you were on top of him - he grunted and groaned out your name while clenching and unclenching his eyes. He was unsure where he desired to look - your goregous moaning face, your bouncing breast or your pussy wet and gripping around him. 

You quicken the pace, feeling Jungkook deep inside of you. The sensation was amazing and you were certain you never wanted to stop. Jungkook's cock was perfect - the size was just enough to please you. Your mind - obviously clouded - thinks it was sculptured this way for you and only you. 

"Your pussy feels so good, baby." Jungkook exhales - at this moment you're not crashing against him, each thrust sends him flying into the headboard. Neither of you care about being loud - a plus since the whole house was for just the two of you. "It feels like it was made just for me."

You swallow hard, throwing your head back. Your arms bring themselves back to hold onto his thighs as you continue to ride him. Jungkook couldn't help his eyes from watching your breast - perfectly rounded with hardened nipples - bounce as you fuck yourself against his cock. It was a sight that he would never forget for as long as he lived. He bites his lip.

"I'm not going to last long." Jungkook admits embarrassingly. How could he when you were doing this to him?

"Why not?" you laugh - a laugh that taunts him. "You can't handle it?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "I-I can."

"You sure?" you squeeze around him and smirk at the way Jungkook curses. "If that's so then don't cum until I tell you to."

Jungkook gulps. He closes his eyes - it was worth a try. If his eyes didn't catch onto the beauty that was you, then maybe he had a chance in not cumming. However, his eyes already have your sight engraved into his brain and even when he wasn't looking at you, you were all he could see. The sounds of your skin slapping his mixed with his moans aren't on his side, either. 

"I love you so much." Jungkook groans out, it was low and he's unsure if he intended for you to hear him - but you do. At this moment he's moments from cumming and he's babbling, a few gibberish and some you could actually hear. "I can't wait for you to be my wife."

You yourself close your eyes.

"You're going to look so beautiful." Jungkook sucked in his breath - he's making an effort to not cum without your command. "You're going to look even more beautiful when you're pregnant with our child."

You moan out aloud this time - Jungkook was a professional at dirty talk. He said things you would have never in a million years thought would turn you on. 

"Your stomach's going to be so swollen carrying my child." Jungkook continues, his hips jutting to thrust into you and this causes him to go deeper until he's hitting a sweet spot. "I can never get you off of my mind..."

"S-Shut up." you hum. You were suppose to be in charge and all he's doing is making you slowly become submissive.

"You occupy my mind all the time. All I can think about is you." Jungkook tugs at the handcuffs but it doesn't unlock. "Take these off of me." he commands, his voice deep and threatening. 

You stop your thrust to open your eyes. You find Jungkook already looking at you intently. His eyes compell you to do as he says slowly. Once the last handcuff was off of him, he flips you. He enters you without a second thought and starts at a harsh pace. A hand is wrapped around your neck and he arches your back so he could continue whispering into your ears. 

"I think about loving you. Caring for you..." Jungkook's thrust was powerful and echoed off the walls. "I think about breeding you. I know you'll be the perfect mother for our children."

You feel tears sweel in your eyes because damn did he have a way with words when it was time for him to be in control. 

"I promise nothing will ever happen to you or them." Jungkook places his head on top of yours - you were tightening around him and he understands you're going to cum. So was he. "I'll always protect you and our children."

"Please cum in me." you cry out, the tears of pleasure already streaming down your face. Your mind is blurred and all you can think about was having him inside of you completely - your sober mind wouldn't agree, yet she wasn't here with you now. 

Besides - you were on birth control. 

"Please cum in me, Kookie." you beg once more and it's what sends him over the edge. He nods his head at you before doing so - deeply. It sends both of you tumbling over. 

Your eyes feel heavy when you feel Jungkook wrap an arm around you. Unsure of what else to do, you do what your body wants and fall into a state of slumber. 

Yoongi takes a fussy Jin-Seon in his arms and rocks him gently. Jungkook watches how his son calms down in his Hyung's arms and releases a sigh of relief. He leans back into the chair and continues to eye his son, noticing the way his tiny fingers spreaded themselves out and he couldn't help but smile.

He had Jin-Seon while you rested - surprised that you did so. You didn't have an issue with allowing Jungkook around Jin-Seon, knowing he would never intentionally hurt him. But, he understood you were a mother and naturally was protective of him, so when you agreed on getting a bit of extra sleep and trusted him to watch Jin-Seon tells Jungkook that you were (ever so slowly) beginning to trust him again.

And this time, Jungkook would take your trust into account.

"Who knew you could be so soft, hyung." Jimin teases.

"We've known Yoongi to be a fraud for years now." Jin waves his hand with a laugh. "He treats Holly better than he treats us."

Jungkook stands when he hears a few whimpers come from Jin-Seon. "Is he alright?" he asks Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

"Yes, Jungkook, he is." he responds. "He just wants you to hold him is my guess."

Jungkook nods and takes Jin-Seon back into his arms, making little noises to calm him down.

"You know," Jimin crosses his legs. "he will eventually start crying just because he knows you would always come."

Jungkook furrows a brow at Jimin. "I'm his father." he deadpans. "Why wouldn't I come?"

"Got a point." Jimin smirks and leans back into his seat.

Jungkook wiggles his finger in front of Jin-Seon and cheers lowly when his son wraps his tiny hand around his finger. He understands that Jin-Seon was already spoiled - he often took him in his arms whenever he heard the slightest whimpers or coos. He couldn't help himself - he only knew of his sons existence for about a month and blamed only himself that he wasn't there during your pregnancy.

Jungkook also understood that his father wasn't much of a father. His mother had thousands of photos and he couldn't find one where his father held his as a baby - but he found one too many of his uncles - his Hyungs fathers - holding him and his brother. He had no desire for his son to grow wondering if he ever loved him because he would already know the answer.

"I think it's time for us to go." Jin claps his hands together. "We've been with Jin-Seon for hours - I know he's growing tired of us."

"May be tired of the rest of you." Hoseok says, strolling towards Jungkook and a yawning Jin-Seon. He places a finger on his forehead. "But he loves me."

Jin-Seon whimpers and Jungkook takes a step back from Hoseok. "That's enough, you're upsetting him." he frowns at his Hyung.

Hoseok scoffs but leaves it alone. Jin-Seon was a trader - never once did he whimper or cry in his arms. "I'll be back and he'll love me." he says down to Jin-Seon.

Jungkook rocks Jin-Seon in his arms as his Hyung leaves. By his feet stood Bam, walking behind him as he strolled around with his son. He was once afraid that Bam would attack the infant - but it was the opposite. All Bam was interested in doing was smelling him - Rasu was more hands on. He'd often climb wherever the baby laid and would sleep besides him, no matter how many times he'd tell the feline not to do so.

Jungkook raises his son into the air, smiling as the baby looks down at him uninterestedly. "So cute." he laughs, lightly lowering and raising his son. "So, so cute - damn it!" Jungkook quickly places his son on the furthest end of the leather couch. He removes his shirt - now stained with white baby spit up. He uses the shirt to wipe his face and throws it to the side.

Jin-Seon begins to fuss. Jungkook places him back into his arms. "I'm not upset." he coos at his son. "I'll never be upset at you."

Jin-Seon squirms in Jungkook's arms, his head towards his bare chest and mouth open trying to feed on nothing. Jungkook frowns, his bottom lip forming a pout. "You must be hungry." he murmurs down to his son before standing slowly, afraid if he done so far too quick he'd drop Jin-Seon.

Jungkook makes his way to you. You had woke a few moments before his Hyungs had nor were you far, only in the next room organizing Jin-Seon's nursery when he arrived frantically. Jin-Seon was seconds away from crying, the low whimpers telling him so. "He's hungry." Jungkook says as he enters. You're folding Jin-Seon's clothes when he does. "I don't want him to cry."

You roll your eyes before turning to Jungkook. You wouldn't admit it - but you found it cute how concerned Jungkook was whenever Jin-Seon cried. You've dealt with children since a young age with the amount of nieces and nephews you had and knew that them crying would be the least of your worries. You attempted to tell Jungkook this - yet he was convinced that whenever Jin-Seon cried it would be the end of the world. "Why are you shirtless?"

"He...spit up on my shirt again." Jungkook glances away.

"Black shirt?" you ask, but only because you know the answer.

"...Yeah."

"I told you to stop wearing dark clothing - it'll just stain." you shake your head with a sigh - but Jungkook didn't care, you knew this. He told you that he'll just buy more. "Men never listen." you smile at Jin-Seon. "Do you want to feed him?" you tilt your head. "Jae-Beom got me a pump as a late gift. I only got enough for one feeding. It's warming up now."

Jungkook's eyes widen as his eyes watch you go around Jin-Seon's nursery and grab what you thought he needed to feed him. He was nervous - he never fed Jin-Seon before since you breast fed him, but he enjoyed watching. Not in a sick perverted way - but getting to witness you caring for his son was a sight he was thankful to experience.

You usher him to sit down and place the bottle in his hands. Jin-Seon was seconds from crying and Jungkook's nerves were kicking in. "What if he doesn't want me to?" he questions. "He's use to you."

"If he doesn't like it then we can switch." you responded. "I think you give him too much power. He's a baby."

Jungkook remains quiet but listens on how you instruct him to put the nipple in his mouth. He does and sighs in relief that Jin-Seon begins to suck without a care who was feeding him. He smiles a low smile the way Jin-Seon stops squirming. His eyes are stuck on his sons face - so peaceful as he is fed. Not a care in the world - no problems to face.

You go back to folding Jin-Seon's clothes for the next few minutes, organizing everything around you for an easy find. The room is quiet and you're humming to yourself lowly. Jin-Seon was going to be a hungry child when he grew - all he wanted to do was eat. And knowing Jungkook, he'd allow Jin-Seon to do whatever he wanted as long as he wasn't hurting himself.

When you turn around to check on Jin-Seon, your eyes catch Jungkook's appearance and are taken aback. "Are you crying?" you whisper, unsure if you were intruding on a personal moment or not.

Jungkook feels the tears drop from his cheek and onto Jin-Seon's onesie. He takes a deep breath then swallows. "I can't take back what I've done to you Y/N. I wish I would've listened when you begged me not to." Jungkook wipes a few tears away with his shoulder, careful not to disturb a carefree Jin-Seon.

You've never seen Jungkook cry before - it startles you. One moment he was alright, smiling down at Jin-Seon as he feeds him and now he's visibly disturbed.

"Jungkook, what-"

"I love you with all my heart for making me a father but I hate myself for how it happened. I know..." Jungkook's eyes stare at Jin-Seon, his eyes watering even more. He wasn't a cryer - especially not in front of others. But the thought of his son growing older and despising him for what he's done to you makes his blood run cold. "I would do anything for you and Jin-Seon and I will spend forever trying to redeem myself."

Jungkook removes the bottle from Jin-Seon's mouth and begins to burp him.

Your step closer to them, your eyes on the unfamiliar mark on his chest. You squint your eyes to see just what it was. Jungkook lifts his head and notices your attention on your chest.

"I forgot to tell you." Jungkook murmurs. He gently stands, holding Jin-Seon to his chest. "I got it done when you were...gone. I added his name the day after I brought him home."

You glance upward to Jungkook then back down to the tattoo engraved into his skin - right above his heart.

Jungkook feels your fingertips touch his skin, tracing the tattoo of your and Jin-Seon's name followed by numbers. You take note that it was the day you and him married - and the day Jin-Seon was born.

You're unsure how to feel. Jungkook had many tattoos littering his body, yet this was reasonably more personal. It being tattoo right above his heart tells it all.

"I'm not telling you to forgive me." continues Jungkook. Jin-Seon was now asleep, his small hand in a tight fist held close to his lips.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"Nothing." Jungkook answers with a shake of his head. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

You cross your arms but turn your head away.

"I told you about my father and what he's done to me and my hyung..." Jungkook starts, he feels his throat swell up. "...and I...I took advantage of you that night. You begged me to stop-"

"You don't have to-" You didn't want to hear this - or relive that night.

"You begged me to stop, Y/N. And I didn't!" Jungkook hisses. He sniffles when Jin-Seon jumps in his arms, but doesn't wake. He rushes to place his son in his crib. He turns towards you, clenching the crib. "I told myself I would never be like that man and I became him."

You didn't know what there was to say to him. You could feel your own throat swell at the sight of him - he's clenching Jin-Seon's crib far too tight that his knuckles were turning white. His eyes were teary and a single drop falls into the crib as he watches his son sleep.

"Thank you for coming back to me." Jungkook's words are sincere. "I know I put you through Hell. I know I didn't give you a choice..."

Jungkook faces you now - even with blurry eyes does he noticed the hurt in your face. 

"I don't want our son growing up questioning if I love you or him." Jungkook steps closer to you, gulping. "I want to be the father I never had. I...I..."

Jungkook hangs his head. He doesn't know what to say. It would be cowardly to apologize to you - he has already. Many times, however, it felt wrong. He knew what he did was wrong and to apologize to you once more would be like a slap in the face. You didn't want to hear it - he was sure of it. 

"You're not like him." Jungkook hears your low voice through his ears. You curse at yourself for doing this - you owe Jungkook nothing, not even your kindness. But what you heard of Jungkook's father, you knew well enough that his son was nothing like him, no matter what he's put you through. "Jin-Seon...I know he'll be happy to have you as a father."

Jungkook widens his eyes at your words. You aren't looking at him but he appreciates your words. He doesn't deserve them - not after all he's put you through. He steps even closer to you, hands shaking. "Can I hug you?" he mumbles. "It's okay if you-"

"Okay." you nod in agreement. You feel his arms wrap around you and it brings back a flood of memories with just his scent alone. You gulp and exhale.

Jungkook holds you close to himself   - tight but not enough to make you uncomfortable. He wasn't one to do this - to show such vulnerability. He was tired of being the man he was since you've been gone - the things he's done to people, especially the women at the Brothel. He felt unlike himself, hating the world for something he's done. You would've never left if he could just say no to whatever bullshit tradition that didn't mean anything. He could've had the chance to see you grow pregnant with his child, to take pictures with you and deal with whatever cravings you had. You and him would be a family - the one he never had when he was a child.

"You never told me you could paint." you cross your arms. Your eyes catch the painting he has with Soo-ah and Hyejin. Both girls are painting rainbows while Jungkook had painted a museum worthy piece - a waterfall surrounded by an array of trees and a stream. 

"You never asked." Jungkook snorts, glancing your way. 

"Well...it's not like people in your line of work do this." you defend, eyes admiring the painting. The amount of detail you catch was amazing - so amazing that you were sure that this could be a profession Jungkook could work in. 

"Is that so?" Jungkook furrows a brow. "Namjoon-hyung also paints - as a hobby. He also writes books."

Namjoon was an intelligent man, you didn't doubt that. If these men were normal people - and not apart of whatever Mafia like gang, you wouldn't doubt for a second that Namjoon was a writer and Jungkook an artist. 

"Never judge a book by its cover." you shrug. 

You leave it alone - Jungkook was allowed to be talented. He was more ways than one - not only in sex.

Speaking of sex with Jungkook, as you woke this morning you felt the aftermath of the night prior. It hit you like a train, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Sex with Jungkook was always wonderful - and each time you woke up just like this.

What you weren't expecting was the words Jungkook spoke to you. Sure, he was a natural dirty talker and got off on speaking such dirty, praising and sometimes degrading words to you. His words last night got to you, so much so that you begged him to cum inside of you. It embarrasses you each time you think of it, but did you really regret it? The sex was good and consensual. You asked him to and he delivered - you couldn't say you felt indifferent about it.

You grab a quick breakfast - some juice and a bagel. You weren't hungry at the moment and haven't been since you arrived in Greece. Making your way into the back of the beach out, you stroll your way towards the Gazebo that sat a few feet from the pool. You sit and admire the scenery - the mountains are miles away but seem so close. The trees surrounded them are moving around in the  wind and you wish you brought your phone to take a picture of it. 

"Hello."

Your head snaps to the voice - an unfamiliar one. You straighten your back at the woman. She offers you a smile as she seats herself across from you. She's an older woman with a few wrinkles around her eyes, but you cannot say just what her age was. Her hair was cut into a short bob - jet black with a few strands tucked behind her ear. 

"You're Y/N." she states and you nod, bowing to her. There was something about this woman that was familiar to you, yet you're unsure how. "I'm Lee Young-Hee."

"Y/L Y/N." you smile, nodding your head respectfully. You take a sip of your drink. "Do you know my fiance?"

Young-Hee nods her head. "I know my son well."

You widen your eyes in horror. Quickly, you bow, apologizing to her. You're unsure how to now face her - how could you not know what his mother looked like. Yet, you blamed Jungkook. He spoke fondly of her always - yet pictures of her weren't around his home and you never thought about questioning when you'd meet her. 

"My son spoke of you often. I was wondering when he'd allow me to meet you." Young-Hee scans your appearance, checking for anything she could on your skin that stood out. "I got the invitation to your wedding just yesterday. Got on the next flight here."

You're confused. Jungkook was the one that set the date - and everything else. Why would he purposely leave his mother out of the wedding?

"I'm just as confused." you admit. 

You notice the way she looks at you, as if she's trying to find something. 

"Are you with my son against your will?"

You stiffen. You look into her eyes for any sign of her joking - but she wasn't. Her eyes were serious and at your lack of response, she placed a hand on yours. "You can tell me." she nods her head. 

"I-I don't understand." you laugh humorlessly. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but your laugh was so dry that no one would believe it. "Where is this-"

"His father was a terrible man." Young-hee shakes her head. "I wished I would've left when I had the chance. Before I got pregnant with my eldest son. It was too late for me then." she stares into your eyes and you see it. The glint of truth - what Jungkook was telling you of his father rang far true, more than any of you knew. "It's not too late for you to leave if he's forcing you to be with him."

You can't bring yourself to respond. It was too late for her to leave - did that mean it was too late for Eun-Young? She had a baby and by the looks of it, she didn't want you to go through what she's gone through - her words exactly. You haven't noticed any bruises on her - even while she was in Greece. However, the way she acted around Jung-hyun was concerning - she always had her head and eyes down and remained behind him, rarely side by side. 

"Eomma!" Jungkook calls. You snap your head towards his voice to see him running towards the two of you. "When did you arrive?"

Young-hee sighs and turns towards her son. She rises from her seat and wraps him in a hug. "Just a few moments ago. I could have arrived when everyone else did if I was properly invited."

There's venom behind his mothers words and Jungkook could only chuckle nervously. He glances behind her to you. You were already watching him. There was no telling how long his mother was with you and what she told - or asked. 

"It happened so fast, eomma." 

"Don't lie to me, Jungkook." Young-hee pats his shoulders and lets go of him. "Lying doesn't suit the man I raised."

"Yes, eomma." Jungkook responds quietly. "Eomma, this is Y/N. My fiance." Jungkook reaches his hand out for you to grab. You do and stand, entangling your fingers together. "I've meant to have you meet her but..."

Jungkook turns his head to you and you smile. You place a kiss on his nose - it catches him off guard only for a second. 

"We couldn't wait to be married." you tell her, a smile on your lips. 

You had no desire to be caught by his mother. You're unsure what mother she was truly. You've seen mothers who were far too emotionally invested with their sons and didn't like any woman (or man) they brought home. There were mothers who were disconnected from their children that they didn't have a car in the world who they associaed with.

But with her concern if you were being with him against your will, you note, was maybe her way of preventing history from repeating itself. She couldn't save Eun-Young - she had a child to worry about - but there was a chance she could save you if needed be. 

But you couldn't allow her to. You weren't caring for just you - but for your family. There was no telling of what abuse - if any curenntly - Eun-Young was allowing. Yet, you can't say Jungkook was as abusive. Controlling at times? Yes. You were chipped like a dog - but so was he. He funded your lifestyle and willingly funded your families - you know those dance classes for Soo-ah were not cheap, neither was rehab for Hyun-woo. 

But Jungkook was kind when you were. He didn't force himself onto you and you iniciated almost every sexual act since the beginning of being active. He doesn't act the way Jung-hyun does - you can stand side by side with him and he'll be just as comfortable. There were many times in which he could've taken your freedom away and left you with nothing - but he hasn't. Even when you slapped him in front of his brother - a sign of ultimate disrespect -  the worse he's done was keep you close to him.

And chip you - yet with a little more reassurance, you were positive he'd remove the chip if he could trust you. 

"Well then," Young-hee shrugs. "allow me to have some girl time with my daughter-in-law. You've kept her hidden long enough."

Jungkook squeezes your hand gently and nods at his mother. He gives you a kiss on the cheek before departing. 

Young-hee gives you another scan. It wasn't though she couldn't trust her sons - she loved both of them dearly! Yet, they were also shared genes with their father and though he has been deceased for many years, they may share the same views. She's tried for years to steer her sons away from the "traditions" their father were forcing into their heads. Jung-hyun was more traiditional, less harsh than their father, yet Eun-Young was visible traumatized.

Jungkook always took after her. Quiet, mellow and reserved. He was sensitive and didn't enjoy seeing anyone be hurt. He was a man now and she understood that her son being in the business that was Bangtan alone meant that he was far from innocent - but he was a good person when needed be. 

"How did you and my son meet?"

You lick your lips. "An auction."

"Oh?" Young-hee furrows a brow. "What were you selling?"

'My virginity.' you thought with a bitter laugh. "Nothing." you giggle. "I was just...browsing. That's how we met."

Young-hee nods, but isn't convinced. 

"How well do you know my son?"

"I know what he does." you assure her. Your eyes catch Jungkook from inside the beach house, head peaking out the window. "I, um, don't come from this world but...I'm willing to be a part of it for him."

"I was like you once." Young-hee takes both of your hands in hers. She gives you a weak smile, a reassuring one. "I thought I could tame the monster that was his father..."

"J-Junglook's not a monster."

"I know he isn't. He's a good man..." Young-hee rubs her thumbs over your hands. "Yet, trauma lies deeply within him."

You understood this - Jungkook has informed you of such trauma. His behavior for keeping you against your will wasn't excused - yet now you could say you were far from against your will.

"Since you know what he does as a livelihood...what do you think of Bangtan's traditions?"

You shake your head with a sigh. "I-I don't agree." you respond. "Jungkook doesn't either and we have no intention of going along with it."

Young-hee is surprised - the wide eyes tell you this. "Is that so?" she murmurs. "But, it's been in Bangtan for generations. His brothers all went through with it. Are you telling me he will be the first to go against it?"

"I think he should've been allowed to decide when he wished to lose his virginity. And by whom." you disagree. You'd never agree to anyone being forced to lose something sacred to them at another persons liking. 

Young-hee's face falls and she drops your hands. For a moment her mind tells her that Jungkook was different - the exception. But, he was not. And you know nothing of what she was speaking of. 

"He has not told you about the consummation tradition." 

"Excuse me?"

Young-hee looks into your eyes - she pities you. How long was her son going to put this off before telling you. Was he ever?

"A better term is a bedding ceremony. Bangtan is all about..." Young-hee scoffs. "...expanding their family. It's a tradition that's gone on for decades. It's how all the marriages in Bangtan had went along and Jungkook would be no exception."

You feel your throat tighten. A Bedding ceremony...

What you knew of such act was allowing people to watch you consummate your wedding with Jungkook.

You feel your stomach rumble and you felt sick. 

"E-Excuse me." you bow your head. You needed to get out of here immediately. 

"Shit." you hiss, scrambling to grab your phone. It had rang, you forgetting to put it on silence before putting Jin-Seon to bed. "Where is it?"

Jin-Seon begins to wail, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, upset that his precious sleep was interrupted by the loud blaring of the phone. You mentally curse yourself as you searched for your phone.

"Is Jin-Seon alright?" Jungkook enters his sons room, already by his sons side. The boy - now 1 - reaches out for him, whimpers 'appa' and Jungkook takes him in his arms.

"I thought you were in a meeting." you groan, still looking for your blaring phone.

"I heard Jin-Seon crying." Jungkook grabs his son. "Eomma forgot to turn off her phone." he pretends to cry with his son. He rocks him back and forth as you continue to search for your phone. Jin-Seon was getting heavy but his son enjoyed nothing more than being held by his father.

"Got it." you huff. You grab the phone and answer it, bringing it to your ear without knowing who it was calling you.

Jungkook sways with his son as he eyes you. Since you returned a year prior, you had many calls from your siblings, all wishing to see Jin-Seon after realizing you were back home and with a baby. You had apologized for being gone for so long, claiming to be depressed and needed to get away. Yes, they had all collectively screamed at you - but they were also concerned about your well-being and safety. It was a cover up when Jungkook claimed to "find you a few weeks later and send you away for treatment".

"Hyun-woo?"

Jungkook stops swaying with his son. Jin-Seon now had his head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. His eyes narrow at you as you laugh as you speak to your brother. He can't hear what he's saying, but he knows well enough that by the way you're talking it only meant that Hyun-woo was doing great in his recovery.

Jungkook hadn't kept up with Hyun-woo during rehab even if he was paying for it. He had no desire to. Nor did he have a desire to have Hyun-woo in his sons life and back in yours. You were doing better - much better - and having Hyun-woo enter and disturbing it weighs heavy on his mind.

"Yes. You can come see me when you come tomorrow!" you turn around to smile at Jungkook who does the same in return - though a fake one. "I also have someone you should meet..."

Jungkook places Jin-Seon back into his bed and crosses his arm, tongue in cheek. You continue speaking with him for the next few minutes before bidding your goodbye. You turn to him with a wide smile that makes his heart swell. You hadn't had a smile that wide and excited on your lips in so long - he longs to see it as much as possible.

"Hyun-woo is being released from rehab. He's better now and..." you step closer to Jungkook and wrap him in a hug, head pressed against his chest. "...thank you for paying for his treatment."

"You...you don't have to thank me." Jungkook murmurs. "You know I love you."

You remove yourself from Jungkook's chest and smile nervously. "Can he...come here? And visit?"

No - Jungkook doesn't want that addict around his son or you. But, you were slowly growing closer to him again and he wanted to do anything for you to be able to trust him. Hyun-woo would do nothing but cause harm to you growing closer to him but he'd never let that happen.

"Okay." Jungkook hesitantly agrees. "I need to be here for that to happen."

You nod your head vigiruosly. "I promise he won't steal anything." you assure. Jungkook didn't care about what the man stole, he had more than enough money to replace them.

"I don't care about that. I just want to make sure you and Jin-Seon are safe." Jungkook places his hands on your shoulders. "You and our son are my top priority."

You take a deep breath. You lick your lips.

The last year for you and Jungkook was hard. You and him agreed to therapy. There was no leaving anymore - not when Jungkook knew about Jin-Seon. He agreed to see a therapist that specializes in couple and familiar drama. Every day you and Jungkook went and talked about anything.

You learned of Jungkook's past - the therapist seemingly numb of learning Jungkook had murdered his father to protect his mother. You learned more about Jungkook in therapy than you've ever thought you'd learn just being by his side. Slowly, you can feel yourself warming up to him. What Jungkook has done to you done a number on you - yes, however, witnessing the way Jungkook put everything aside whenever Jin-Seon called him warms your heart. Jin-Seon is only 1 and can only say a handful of words, sadly Eomma isn't one of it.

"I can't wait to see him again." you admit. "He sounded...better. Like himself. Like the man I knew growing up."

Jungkook nods but he can't bring himself to appear happy. One thing for certain, Hyun-woo coming back couldn't ruin his family. He would never allow it.

"Please don't do this Jungkook." you pleaded, the tears streaming down your face at a rapid pace. 

The day had finally come - and to say you were less than pleased was an understatement. That night you had screamed at Jungkook for not telling you. You were embarrassed having to learn of such a tradition from his mother - and then it made sense. She was warning you for far more than abuse when it came to Jungkook and Bangtan in a whole. It made sense why he rushed to your side when noticing her speak to you. 

Jungkook had pleaded with you to not be upset or angry with him - that was a laughing matter. Was he going to tell you? Or was he going to allow you to find out when everyone crowded into the room to watch the two of you?

"They won't be in the room." he assures, yet that was worse. The fact that they watched you without you being able to see them didn't make it any less humiliating. How could you face these people after they witness you get fucked?

You didn't speak with him - no matter how much he tried. Days passed and the wedding came. It was a hectic day - and it was evident you weren't happy. Before meeting Jungkook's mother, you were actually expecting your wedding day. Now, it makes you bitter. You got your hair and makeup done without a word and your sisters attempted to cheer you up - but they were unsuccessful. 

Jungkook was a bucket of nerves. He often checked up to make sure you were even still where you needed to be - you were. You hadn't tried to escape but he couldn't think of anything else. He cursed his mother for telling you about the tradition - but it wasn't her fault. He should have told you about it, but the possibility of you running away and him ruining what the two of you shared weighed heavy on him. 

Jungkook knows he ruined what the two of you had regardless.

Jungkook smiled when he saw you in your dress for the first time in a month. Your hair was tied in an updo with loose curls lining your face. Your makeup enhances your beauty and he's in awe. He smiles as you walk towards him - but the smile on your lips is for show and he catches onto this. Still, he couldn't help but have his heart beat when you reach his side. "You're so beautiful." he murmured to you, yet you remain silent.

The wedding goes by in a blur and the party that ensures after is chaotic. Jin cried while giving his own speech in claiming that he saw Jungkook grow up. Yoongi even sheds a single tear before mumbling about being drunk and not emotionally invested in his dongsaeng. 

It didn't take long for your siblings to get drunk - but it was alright to you. At least they were content and thriving - something you couldn't say for yourself. You took a few shots yourself and lingered around. You wished you could go with the children when they were brought back to the beach house after partying too hard on sparkling juice. But, you had to stay with Jungkook and be fucked in front of the other members of Bangtan.

You couldn't understand the reason - it was a different time. You'd already willingly had sex with him. Why did these men need to watch you have sex with your husband to ensure you'd been imgregnated?

"It'll be okay, baby." Jungkook tells you, shushing you quietly. "What did I promise you before?"

You lick your lips. You can feel the eyes on you and your mind is wandering. Were they interested in what they were seeing? Were they laughing? Did they think you were being overly dramatic?

"I'll never let anything happen to you." Jungkook murmurs. He pushes you onto the bed, holding your face in his hands. "I'll protect you until the day I die. You have to trust me."

The room itself was bland but bright. You can see the camera in the corner ceiling of the room but try to ignore it. Your seated on the bed, the only furniture in the room. 

"You trust me, don't you?" Jungkook wipes the tears from the corner of your eyes. He leans down to kiss your forehead. 

You're unsure, but nod your head. 

"Good girl."

You glance at the camera when you feel Jungkook's hand sneak its way between your legs, pushing up the night gown. He rubs your clit. When he leans down and press a kiss on your cheek, your hand swings at him.

Jungkook feels your fist connect to his cheek and huffs. He glares at you, ears red. "Y/N." he hisses out a warning. "It'll be easier if you just-"

"Don't do this." you whimper, clenching your fists. 

"Y/N." Jungkook hisses. He grasps your chin with his hand and yanks you to face him. He leans down and hisses, "I will never hurt you. I love you."

"If you'd love me you wouldn't-" You feel Jungkook pushes you down. He gets atop of the bed and hovers above you. 

"You have to trust me, baby." Jungkook loses the anger in his voice. He didn't want to scare you - he loved you. He didn't want to put you through this yet he had to - it was a tradition. "The faster you cooperate the faster we can be done, okay, baby? Then we can go home."

You feel his hand once more between your legs. 

"Okay." you nod in defeat. "I...do this...we can go home." you repeat - more to yourself. It was to coach yourself into being comfortable.

You turn around on the bed, allowing him to remove the underwear you wore and lift the nightgown. You feel the tip of his cock twirl around your clit until you're wet enough.

Jungkook enters you and your fingers clench the bedsheets. Your head lays on the bed. You're unaware that you're crying until you feel it on your cheeks. You can feel Jungkook's thrust quicken but all you can do is look up at the camera facing you in the corner of the room. 

NEXT

@silversparkles11 @jungkookminthairwhen @aajjks @sunshine066 @mwitsmejk @jnghs @shescharlie @whipwhoops @douknowbts @ultimatebasura @yoongixthot @janedukiesworld @thvhoe @juju-227592 @etsuko-99 @teresaisla @barbiethingzzz19 @doublebunv @exfolitae @bjoriis @sweetempathprunetree @raynom @swweetnightt @wonieeee @ayoongiverse @seajae @ungodlyjoon @mooncuddler @charcharfairy @breadgeniedope @pb-n-juju @jjhmk @devilsbooksworld @jiminscheekies @joonie-tunes @lilyflowerguk @ciderxi @theblueslytherin @seokjinkismet @kisskissjk @bloodline1632 @ebonynextdoor @hollyweird0 @katsbqbe @jjk7lys @darkuni63

[theharrowing]

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, 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 giggle 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. 

You: 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 ensuite and find your phone on the bed to shoot off a message before heading down to let Namjoon in.

You: 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 ensuite 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, Chainsaw Man. 

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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[clumsy-jiminie]

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴅᴇꜱ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

◦ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :: mafia!jungkook x mafia!female reader

◦ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ :: 18+

◦ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ :: mature content, angst, smut, mafia!au

◦ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ :: 8k

◦ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ :: boxer!jk bc that’s absolutely a warning in itself, use of pet name/term - baby, thatta girl, a touch of fluff, cursing, mentions of drugs and drug usage, driving under the influence, driving at dangerous speeds, violence - knocking someone out, breaking of a finger, toxic Namjoon, Taehyung has a very strong hatred for y/n

◦ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ :: ngl this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. grammarly almost croaked on me while I was trying to edit this. ps, pls don’t be a silent reader. I love hearing feedback and constructive criticism! I hope you all have a lovely day 💖

↠ ɴᴇxᴛ :: ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ :: ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴅᴇx ↞

You followed his directions until you came across a door. When you entered the room, you saw some random gym equipment and a punching bag. You didn’t waste a second before wrapping your hands up and sliding on some boxing gloves that were way too big for you. You didn’t care. You just needed to release this anger. As you approached the bag, instantly pictured Taehyung’s face on it, and threw a punch. You were satisfied with how far back the bag had moved, prompting you to hit it again once it returned to you. You kept this up for a few minutes, feeling the anger leave your body through your fists. You ignored the throbbing pain in your side for as long as you could before you had to take a step back, panting softly.

“Your form is shit.” Jeongguk suddenly said from behind you. You jumped for a moment before glancing back at him. In his hands were a glass of water and some pain medication. You don’t know how long he was watching you. You didn’t even realize he followed after you to the room.

“What?!” You exclaimed, already feeling the anger in your body rise again. There was no way your form could’ve been horrible. You were trained in MMA, and you were pretty sure there were similarities between the two sports.

“Calm down,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He took another step towards you, raising his hand a little to encourage you to take the pills. You glanced at the small tablets, reluctantly taking them from him after pulling your hand out of the glove. “You’re good,” he started as you put the glove back on, “but there’s a reason why your opponents won’t go down easily.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you towards the bag again. "And that’s because your form is shit.” You tried not to take his words to heart. Even though they irked you a little, you knew he meant well.

He took a step back from you and folded his arms over his chest. He stared at you intently as he spoke. “Show me your stance.”

You got into position — using the form you were taught years ago. It was solid, at least you thought it was. The gloves were raised to your face, and your knees were slightly bent as you bounced from one foot to the other. “Hm.” He hummed.

“Hm?!” You dropped your arms and stopped moving as you glanced at him. He stood in front of you. “What you—”

“Hush,” you felt his hands around your wrists to bring them back up to your face. Your brows furrowed as you instantly resumed the stance from before. “You see, this is fine,” he said, referring to your hands. “But you can’t see anything to the side of you because you’re blocking your eyes.” He then lowered your arms so they were right below your chest. “And your legs…” He crouched down and gently maneuvered your limbs to his liking. “Again, the way you were standing before was fine, but try this instead.”

After he stood up, he walked to the side of you as you tried to get accustomed to your new stance. You had to admit, it felt a little more comfortable than what you were doing previously. You swung at the punching bag, slightly shocked at how natural it felt. Maybe he was onto something. You took another swing when he stopped you. He walked behind you, placing one hand on your hip while the other slid up your opposing forearm. Your muscles tensed for a moment from his touch. The way his barely calloused fingers grazed against your skin may have caused goosebumps to arise, but you tried your best to ignore it. Having his hands on you felt so nice, so gentle. The last time your felt his fingers wrapped around your hip was when…

Stay focused, Y/N.

“You want your power to come from your hips.” He guided your arm towards the bag while simultaneously pulling your hip back. This shifted your weight to the striking arm. He was close enough to you that you could feel your back brushing up against his chest. Part of you wanted to fall into the man so you could feel him pressed against you, but you quickly put those thoughts to rest. Soon, you no longer felt his presence and you take the opportunity to put his words into action. After the hit, the punching bag went further than when you initially hit it. You weren’t even upset anymore. If only you could see the hint of a proud smirking forming on Jeongguk’s lips as he watched you excitedly punch the bag. Seeing how well you were doing with the boxing equipment, he decided to switch it up on you.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, signaling you to stop before walking away and shuffling through some things. When you turned to see what he was doing, you were met with him slapping together two black striking pads that were now on his hands. Your eyes widened from the sudden sound echoing in the semi-empty space. He held the pads up and posed in the same stance he taught you earlier. You mirrored him, humoring the thought of actually sparring with him. You assumed he would be close to Taehyung’s strength, if not stronger than him. They had similar builds, even though he obviously worked out more than the other.

“Who are you mad at?”

His question caused your fist to drop. You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. He was the one who grabbed you earlier just so you wouldn’t hit Taehyung. Why would he ask such a question? “Are you fucking stupid?” He suddenly swung the black pad at you, causing you to stumble back as you just narrowly dodged it.

“Jeongguk!” You gasped as your eyes went wide. You weren’t actually expecting him to try and strike you, especially when your guard was down. He repeated his question again, and this time he swung at you after every word. Each time, you just barely dodged his attack. You were growing frustrated again, so you got into your stance. When he was about to ask again, you screamed “Taehyung!” You threw a jab at the pad.

Jeongguk’s eyes grew wide as he stared down at you. The punch actually made his hand go back a bit. He knew you were strong, but this was somewhat impressive. “Yeah?” He swung at you again, but you easily dodged it and countered with a few more punches. As each minute passed, he grew more and more impressed. He didn’t expect you to pick up things so quickly. You were so focused, probably picturing Taehyung’s body parts on the pads. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips.

“Thatta girl.”

His tone threw you off for a moment, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine while heat spread up to your cheeks. It was just a simple term, there shouldn’t be any reason that your body reacted to it like that. Could it have been his voice? Either way, you didn’t have time to dwell on it, seeing him swing the pad at you once again. If you didn’t want to get hit, you had to focus completely.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He encouraged as he could feel the strength behind your punches. Focus, focus, focus. You repeated that word in your head constantly. “OK, now give me a cross.” You did so with ease, causing his smirk to grow into a proud smile. “Yeah, just like that.” You tried to keep your breathing steady while also trying to drown out his words. He was just encouraging you, that’s all. So why did it make you feel so…, good? These were thoughts for a future shower. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

That’s it.

The pet name sent your mind into overdrive, causing you to stop and take a few steps back. All the work of trying to ignore the way his words of encouragement were causing a ball of arousal to swirl in your abdomen was demolished from one word. One simple word. On top of the light sweat he managed to work up — causing the stray strands of his pulled-back hair to stick to his forehead — the term of endearment sent a parade of flashbacks to your mind. You, normally, weren't so prone to remembering nights with past lovers in such detail, and you had no idea why he was so different. You looked towards the ground before shutting your eyes tightly, trying to turn your brain off.

“You OK?” He asked, prompting you to spare a glance at him.

You nodded your head once. “Yeah,” you breathed as you tried to ignore the warmth spreading throughout your body from in between your legs. “I just need a second.”

He nodded as well, taking his hands out the pads to stretch out his fingers. “You know, if you keep this up you won’t have any problem taking down Taehyung.”

“Why are you encouraging this?” You blurted out. He’s doing so much as taking the time to personally train you, knowing who you’re picturing whenever your fist comes in contact with that pad. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be on his side?”

“He needs a good ass whooping every now and again.” He said while looking at you. “And I think he’s long overdue for one.”

“And you want me to do it?” You raised an eyebrow slightly, gesturing to yourself with your hand.

His eyes scanned your body slowly as if he was taking in your frame before returning to your face. “Yes.”

Yes? You could've pushed forward. You could've questioned why you were the chosen one, but you didn't. You didn't care for his reasoning as to why — you were going to take Taehyung down regardless. The new thoughts in your head pushed out the flashbacks, finally calming you down. You rolled your neck to loosen yourself up again as he put on the pad. You resumed, hoping his words didn't set you off again.

After another 45 minutes of boxing, you both were drenched in sweat. You had to tie Jimin's shirt into a crop top at one point just to provide more airflow to your skin. Jeongguk ended up ditching his shirt altogether. He returned to the room and joined you on the floor. He tossed you a well-needed water bottle and you both gulped at least half of the bottle down. The room was silent, minus the slight pants of air from the two of you. You already dreaded the thought of another shower with the 3-in-1 soap. You couldn't put your skin through more torture.

“Why do y’all only use 3-in-1?” You asked randomly. You wanted to get to the bottom of this while the thought was fresh in your mind.

Jeongguk looked at you with furrowed brows, resting his arms on his propped-up legs. “I don’t use that shit.”

You mimicked his facial reaction. “It’s the only thing you’ve given me since I got here.”

“Because it’s cheap,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his water. “We don’t know the specific products that girls use, and until Solar gets back, you’re probably stuck with that.”

“Solar?”

He nodded and finished off his water bottle. “You’ll meet her soon enough. She’s the one who brought you underwear, feminine products, etcetera.”

“But she couldn’t buy soap?” You questioned with a furrowed brow.

He looked stuck for a moment — eyes wide as he scanned his brain for a reasonable excuse. “I don’t know,” he said once he gave up. “Maybe they forgot to put it on the list or something.”

You let out a small huff as you thought of a better solution. “I am not using that 3-in-1 again.”

“What, you wanna use mine instead?”

You gave him an apprehensive look at first. You knew he smelled good, but you didn’t want to use axe body wash. Their scent was way too strong for your liking. “What do you use?”

“Dove.” Your eyes went round before letting out a giggle that couldn’t be held back. Jeongguk narrowed his eyes at you as he tried to hide your fit of laughter behind your hand. “Fuck you, it smells great.” He grumbled as he shifted in his sitting position.

"I'm sorry," you chuckled with a wave of your hand. "I just wasn't expecting that." To think part of the reason behind his addictive scent was because of Dove soap. His brows squished together slightly as his lips remained pressed in a line. He had to fight back his smile; your giggles were contagious and he refused to take part in the joking about his soap choice. If only you didn't block your smile with your hand. It's been so long since he saw it last.

“You wanna use it or what?!” He feigned annoyance.

“Yeah! I’ll use it.”

As Jeongguk lead you to his room, you tried not to stare at his back. You wanted to ask him about that tattoo of his, and what made him want to get it, but you swallowed down that question. After you entered his room he handed you a spare towel and plopped down on his bed. He pulled out his phone from his sweatpants pocket. The slight blue glow from his cellphone made you realize how dark his room was. There was enough light for you to make out his furniture, it was nothing compared to if the blinds were actually opened. When did these men hate sunlight so much? You stepped into his adjacent bathroom and stripped of your clothes once you finally closed the door. You stepped into his walk-in shower and turned it on. The smell of his cucumber and green tea soap instantly filled your nostrils, instilling you with a sense of calmness. You didn’t realize how much you missed a good shower. After washing your skin, you stood under the hot water for a moment. Your eyes found his shampoo and conditioner placed right next to the soap. You couldn’t help yourself.

“Hey!” You called out as you grabbed the shampoo to sniff it. You fell in love instantly. “I’m using your shampoo and conditioner!” You didn’t wait for an answer from him before squeezing the hair care into your palm. You scrubbed at your scalp, almost moaning at the feeling of your nails scratching off the dirt. It felt too good to even fathom. Then you suddenly heard the door burst open, and you swore you shat your heart out for a second.

“I said you could only use my body wash!” Jeongguk yelled over the sound of the water. “Why you touching other shit?!”

“Jeongguk!” You whined. Normally, you would be a total adult about this — talk it out and provide your reasoning why he should let you use it. But for weeks, you have gotten the bare minimum of everything, and you just wanted to feel like yourself again — clean and smelling good.

He called out your name in the same tone as you, even going as far as raising the octave of his voice.

A pout formed on your lips for a second. So being cute was out. “Well, I’m using it anyway! I already started so now I have to finish!” You continued to wash your hair peacefully.

“Consider yourself lucky I'm in a good mood. This is the first AND LAST time, Y/N!”

You giggled softly from your victory as he left and closed the door behind him.

You finally emerged from the bathroom with a cloud of steam behind you. You had the towel wrapped around your frame tightly, fingers wrinkly, and a blissful smile on your lips. You couldn't believe you took such a magical thing for granted.

“Took you long enough,” Jeongguk said with his eyes glued to the phone.

Any other time, you would’ve had an equally sassy remark to his, but right now, you didn’t care one bit. In fact, not even the sight of Taehyung’s face could bring you down from this high. You felt so refreshed and brand new. This shower was truly something you needed. You walked over to his bed, deciding to fill the empty space next to the man. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you instantly melted into his sheets. They still smelled so good, so comforting. You hummed contently as you felt your eyelids getting heavier.

“Hey hey hey!” He said when he realized you’ve been quiet for a little too long. He reached over and grabbed your shoulder, staring at the back of your head as he shook you. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

You let out a sleepy hum, your eyes opening briefly before closing again. “Sleeping,” you almost whispered.

“Uh, not here! You’re still fucking wet!”

“Fuck off,” you mumbled as you reached up to brush his hand off of your shoulder. You replaced it with your own, almost hugging yourself.

“Excuse me?!” You only released another hum before he heard your familiar, quiet, snores. He sat up from his spot in bed, staring at you in complete awe. The absolute audacity you had. First, you use his shower. Secondly, use his hair and body products. And thirdly, you fall asleep in his bed? Wet of all things? Who did you think you were, the queen?! He got up from his side and walked around his bed frame with full intent to wake you up and kick you out. But as soon as he reached your side, and saw your face, he stopped dead in his tracks. You looked so…, small? You had a grip on your own shoulder while your knees were pulled in. He realized when he put you to bed yesterday, he didn’t take the moment to admire your features when relaxed. You were stunning. So cute and pouty when you were off in dreamland. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. It widened when you scrunched up your nose because of the rogue strand of hair that fell onto your face. He leaned down, gently brushing it back so it joined the rest of your hair. As your face relaxed once again, he let out a small sigh of defeat. He returned to his side of the bed, laying back down before resuming to watch Youtube videos on his phone. He turned the volume down so it was low enough just for him to hear.

Somehow, in your slumber, your head found its way to his chest. He had no idea how you sailed to his body across the sea of space between you, but as soon as your cheek hit his pectoral, he was stuck. Your arm loosely hung across his torso, almost as if he needed to be trapped in. It would be a lie if he said his muscles didn’t stiffen when your smooth skin came in contact with his. Not that he didn’t enjoy cuddling — he loved the feeling of hands grazing his skin and the warmth of another person — but in this particular situation, he felt nervous. He was afraid to get caught with you so close to him. If Namjoon was to find out that your history went further than just stumbling across you in a random club and sharing a few dances, it could automatically mean trouble. He would instantly take whatever was left of this relationship and muddle it into the ground. Jeongguk couldn’t have that. He didn't want to add to the terrible life that you had already endured. He didn’t want to end up being a part of the same stain as his brother.

Namjoon has always been quite a spoiled individual. Jeongguk knew this just from the first day they met at the orphanage. He grew up with nothing, compared to Namjoon, who already had everything. So when that tragedy happened, Jeongguk already knew how to adapt while Namjoon struggled. He was still so young with no clue of how the real world worked. He had no choice besides to follow his older brother blindly. It’s not like Namjoon would’ve listened to him anyway. Even now, though they are older, the man is still stuck in doing things his way and his way only. Whenever the slightest inconvenience happened, it was always Jeongguk’s fault. Everything was Jeongguk’s fault since the night their mother left them. ‘If only you could make mom stay,’ Namjoon would tell him so often he felt as if he should tattoo it into his skin. The words were already etched into his heart, might as well put them on physical display. He always made it seem as if it was solely Jeongguk’s doing. Like their father had absolutely no parts in it. It made him so sick to hear those words that Jeongguk ended up resorting to violence recently. He couldn’t stand being the only one blamed anymore.

You snuggled up closer to him, causing him to hold his breath for a moment. You seemed so comfortable, so peaceful, so delicate. The duality you possessed was comical to him. Like, he was supposed to be scared or threatened by little ol’ you? Who snores quietly with your lips frozen in a pout, and cuddles up to anything near? Oh yeah, you’re absolutely terrifying. He glanced down as your leg rested in between his now, somewhat further anchoring him to this position. His fingers itched to touch you until he could no longer help himself. So soft, he thought as his calloused fingers ran down your arm and back up to your shoulder. You hummed contently from his simple touch, prompting him to continue tracing lines over your arm and back. He liked this bubble you had created with him. The world outside was obsolete, and all he cared about at this moment was ensuring the woman on his chest got the ideal shuteye. It was a miracle that your towel managed to stay on with all the tossing and turning you do. The gentle pressure of your chest rising and falling against his own was relaxing. Almost so relaxing that he felt his eyelids growing heavier. Everyone shouldn’t be back for at least another couple of hours, a small nap should be just fine.

And then his door swung open.

“Jeongguk! I brought some—” Taehyung froze as soon as his eyes landed on the scene before him. Jeongguk on the bed, staring at him with wide eyes, as you slept silently on his chest in nothing but a towel. He almost dropped the bag of snacks in his hand. “What the—”

“Shh!” Jeongguk's voice fell somewhere between a whisper and a yell. He knew that if Taehyung was any louder, you would wake up. He had the feeling that you would try to fight the other man not caring for your lack of clothing, and he definitely did not what to witness that.

Taehyung glared at the sight of you so close to one of his best friends. “Are you fucking her?!” He accused in a hushed tone.

“No! She just fell asleep in my bed.” Every time you would come into his view, the thought of repeating that night with you would creep into his mind. He tried his hardest to control his urges whenever anyone was around. Anyone besides Jimin, at least. Jimin wouldn’t have the balls to say anything to anyone.

Taehyung’s face relaxed. “She fell asleep in your bed. Naked.” He was completely unconvinced, especially knowing Jeonnguk’s history with women. “Yeah, fucking right.” He dug his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Taehyung.” The younger was louder than he wanted to be. The sudden noise caused you to moan in dissatisfaction as you managed to turn even more of your body into him. He couldn’t imagine how you got any closer, but you’re chock full of surprises. “I wouldn’t say a word to anyone if I was you.”

“Why’s that?” Taehyung countered as his thumb hovered over a phone number. “What’s the worse you can do?”

“Who do you think gave the information to Jimin about your family?”

Taehyung stared at the man as his heart dropped in his chest. “Are… Are you threatening me? With my family?”

It pained Jeongguk to do this, to take a page out of Namjoon’s book against his closest friend, but he had to. “I’m just saying that it would be horrible if the wrong people got ahold of that information.”

Taehyung’s grip tightened around his phone. “And who do you think caused my family to relocate, to begin with?!” He took another step into the room as his voice raised, causing Jeongguk’s arm to tighten around you. “It was her!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend couldn’t be protecting you, of all people. His best friend couldn’t be choosing you over him.

“I’m sure she had no parts in it. We both know that.”

“We don’t know that, though. She could’ve organized the whole fucking thing!”

“Are you hearing yourself? She literally said her father didn’t care about her. Why would he give her, of all people, access to that information?”

“Why would he give her the safe then?”

Jeongguk stared at the man before letting out a deep sigh. This conversation could continue going in circles because of Taehyung’s one-track mind. “She has something that we want — that we need. You tell Namjoon or anyone, and he’s going to do something so vile to her, and probably me, that you will regret ever opening your mouth.”

Taehyung’s mouth closed as he fell silent, mirroring Jeongguk’s stare. He wanted you to go through the worst pain imaginable. He had an overwhelming feeling you had something to do with what happened to his neighborhood. Whether you knew or approved of it, he knew it had something to do with you. And for that, he couldn’t stand the sight of you. You deserved every horrible thing that happened to you, and tenfold. But Jeongguk didn’t. He was put through hell and was trying to gather pieces of himself that he lost. If he told Namjoon, Jeongguk would be damaged beyond return. He knew that. He’s seen Namjoon kill people for much less. Taehyung watched Jeongguk fight for you to stay. He watched him fight for you to be put on the last mission. And he watched Jeongguk calm Namjoon down from the angriest he has ever seen the man, just for your safety. For whatever reason, he was protecting you.

If only there was a way to make sure you were the only one receiving pain in this aspect. And if there was, he would’ve jumped at the first chance he got. Taehyung had to think of a plan on his own, and until then, he was forced to stay silent. So, all he could do was sigh as he returned his phone to his pocket. Though it was painfully obvious who Jeongguk chose at this moment, he was going to be the bigger person. You didn’t deserve to have Jeongguk on your side. You didn’t deserve to have him protecting you so actively. Whatever spell you had on him was going to break as soon as you gave up those stupid numbers.

“I brought snacks,” he mumbled before dropping the bag on the floor. He turned around and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Jeongguk let out another sigh. His free hand reached up to push back his hair. Out of all people who had to walk through that door, it had to be Taehyung. He could’ve convinced anyone else to stay quiet without resorting to such desperate measures, but it had to be the person who hated you more than Namjoon did. He glanced down at you as you scrunched your nose up, letting out a soft hum. He let out a breathy chuckle, “Damn, you sleep like a rock.”

A few days had passed since you fell asleep in Jeongguk’s bed. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up, still in your towel, and with him gone. You felt a little bad for stealing his bed again, but he seemed to not mind as much. You hated that you were already falling into a loose routine here. Early in the morning, before everyone woke up, you would train with Jeongguk. It was the only time you were guaranteed his full attention since Namjoon’s assignments take place after breakfast. So far, it’s been a switch between Jeongguk and Hoseok as your babysitters. And boy, Hoseok was definitely interesting to be around. He had to be the most laid-back out of all of the men. You often hung around in his room as he smoked and put on comedies for you both to watch. It was pretty nice.

Today was Hoseok’s day again. Namjoon has been sending Jeongguk with Jimin on whatever stakeout mission they needed to do. Once everyone had left the house, you followed Hoseok up the stairs and to his room. You took your familiar spot on his bed — right on the corner closest to the window. Hoseok shared a room with Seokjin, and there was quite a difference in styles.

Hoseok was trendy — fashionable — for lack of a better term. You knew it from seeing how he dressed, but it also overflowed into his interior design. You could tell he made whatever shared space he had work for him. There were a few pictures hung up on the wall of various sports cars. He would eagerly explain to you which car was what whenever you asked. A plant sat on his nightstand, which he had no problem admitting was fake. In the corner, there was a speaker system set up. Dust clung sadly to the basket and cone of the unit. On the floor were various stuffed animals. You recognized a few faces, like the Elmo and Cookie Monster that stuck out of a box and the Snoopy that lay next to it. Your favorite one was a pink and white flower that he let you nap with a few times. Seokjin's side, on the other hand, lacked any touch of him. He only had the essentials and kept his colors muted. Seemed reasonable based on how he acted.

He began the process of making several blunts for the day while you sat quietly and watched him. You glanced over towards the window by his bed. The sunlight crept onto the floor and illuminated the inevitable dust particulars dancing in the air. You let out a deep sigh. The last time you got a taste of fresh air was whenever you went on that mission. It felt like a week had passed since then, but it’s already been a couple of days. You turned your head towards Hoseok, who was completely engrossed in rolling his blunt.

“I wanna go outside,” you said as his eyes glanced up at you.

“Yeah?” He brought the blunt up to his lips, gliding his tongue against the edge of the wrapping paper to seal it. “You wanna take a walk or something?”

Your shoulders dropped, sulking as you looked back at the window. “No, that’s too boring.” You returned your gaze to him. “I want to do something exciting.”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up, twinkling with eagerness before his lips formed into a wide smile.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Now, when Hoseok mentioned the drive, you immediately thought of a nice little sightseeing ride with some peaceful music in the background. That was far from what you got. He started speeding, effortlessly hitting over 80mph on these little blocks. You could tell how Hoseok expertly drifted and handled the car that he had a history with driving like this. Music blasted through the speakers — the thud of the baseline was so strong it felt like it controlled your heart. This was exactly what you wanted. Even though your hand held onto the ‘oh shit’ handle with the tightest of grips, you couldn’t wipe the wide smile off your lips. You glanced over at Hoseok, who shared the same smile. He slowed the car down, parking on the side of the street before finally looking at you.

“You wanna give it a try?”

Your eyes grew wide. You’ve always wanted to try to race, probably due to the rebellious teenager in you, but you knew that one wrong turn would’ve been between life and death. But when were you going to be provided with another opportunity like this? After a little internal debate, you nodded once. Hoseok got out of the car simultaneously with you before switching seats. You inhaled deeply as your eyes scanned the various numbers and symbols on the dashboard. Maybe you should’ve mentioned that it’s been several years since the last time you were behind the wheel. You had a personal driver, so why would you need to drive? It’s probably like riding a bike, right? All you have to do is get on, and soon enough, it was like you never stopped biking in the first place.

You placed your hands on the wheel, looking like a complete novice to Hoseok. He chuckled softly at your palm resting nervously on the gear shift. He let you go at your own speed and patiently waited for you to put the car in drive. Once you did, you slowly accelerated until you reached a comfortable momentum. Figured you should get used to it a little before pushing to go faster. And once you did, boy did it make the adrenaline race through your veins. You loved the feeling of inertia pushing you against the seat. You giggled, and the joy spread to Hoseok, who produced the same sound himself. He was just happy to see you enjoying yourself. You looked so displeased the first and second time he ever saw you. So saddened to be here. When Namjoon decided to see you as a team member, he jumped on board with no trouble. He loved seeing smiles, hearing laughter, and feeling at peace in a situation where days like that are scarce.

As you took random turns, slowing down a little because you were nowhere close to being a pro like the man who sat next to you. This was the most fun you’ve had since being here, and for a split second, it was almost ordinary.

That was until you heard a little voice in your head.

That little voice was telling you to escape.

To run.

You had the upper hand already by driving the car. What was he going to do in the passenger seat? You didn’t know the area well, but how far could you be from a city? You just needed to get to a well-populated vicinity, and it would be smooth sailing from there. You could find a store, ask to use their phone, and be free. Of course, after knocking out Hoseok at first. He wouldn’t even see it coming. After smoking that blunt before ever getting into the car, he was higher than the clouds right now. He wouldn’t notice a thing.

But he did.

He noticed how your smile slowly started to fade and how you became more focused on what you were doing. He noticed how you made calculated turns instead of letting the street take you wherever. You were no longer having fun. Now you were determined.

He called out your name with a serious tone. You could hear the underlining concern, but you ignored him. “What are you doing?” He asked anyway.

The corner of your lips turned upward in a faint smirk. You were confident this plan was going to go off without a hitch. “You should’ve never let me drive, Hoseok.”

His lips pressed into a frown just from the sound of his name. It didn’t take him long to piece together the basics of your little plan. Like flicking a light switch, he instantly sobered up and tried to stop you. He grabbed at the wheel, causing you to swerve the car.

“Fuck off!” You screamed before quickly regaining control. You weren’t going to let him get in the way of your freedom.

Hoseok was a quick thinker, though. He grabbed the emergency brake and pulled it up, causing the car to slow down and start dragging dramatically. You were confused, slamming your foot down on the accelerator to only be met with a roaring engine and no speed. You glanced down at the emergency brake before trying to push it down. You struggled with it as you cursed softly to yourself. It was difficult to push the button while keeping your eyes on the road. He realized you weren’t going to just give up. Why couldn’t you cooperate? He inhaled deeply, almost as if he had to hype himself up internally before it suddenly went black for you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with a splitting headache. You were suddenly lying down in the backseat of the car, and Hoseok was in the front seat driving. The music he was blasting added to the dull pain in your skull, but when you went to push yourself to sit up, you felt resistance. Your hands were behind your back, bound in some sort of way.

"What happened?" You asked. You waited a few moments for his response, but it never came. A deep sigh left your lips as the car came to a stop. Hoseok got out and opened the door by your feet. He grabbed your ankles and dragged you out rather roughly. As you stood up, you were startled. You've never seen Hoseok so earnest. It was odd to see the corner of his lips pressed into such a frown. He avoided your gaze as well. He pushed you to the front door of the house. Without Hoseok providing you with answers, it was up to you to put the pieces together. Well, whatever you had left. The last thing you remembered was driving the car and the rush of adrenaline in your veins when you had finally seen an opening to escape. You vaguely remembered there was a struggle between you and Hoseok, but after that was a complete mystery. How did you end up tied in the backseat? You knew, for sure, that out of all the members here, Hoseok would've been the easiest to handle. Could he have really gotten the upper hand on you?

You stopped walking for a second to turn your head and glance back at the man over your shoulder. Your eyes met only briefly. “Did you hit me?”

He didn’t provide you with an answer this time either. Instead, he just pushed you on, leading you into the kitchen area. The first person you saw was Namjoon, who was leaning against the side of the island counter. He was wearing his usual outfit — a white button-down and some black slacks — with his arms folded across his chest. You didn’t like the look he was giving you; the harsh glare from his narrowed eyes made you very uneasy. You barely noticed the others in the kitchen behind him.

“So, Y/N, you want to tell me what happened today?” There was an annoyed tone that wrapped around his words.

“I was just going on a drive with Hoseok. I wanted some fresh air.”

Namjoon’s eyes glanced behind you for a moment before returning to you. He nodded his head once. “OK, and what occurred on this joyride?”

Your first instinct was to lie. Namjoon couldn’t know of your plans to try to leave; it might ruin the balance that you’ve established so far. You weren’t planning to get caught, so you didn’t think this far ahead.

“I was just trying to go grocery shopping for you all. Yaknow, to build our trust. 'Cuz I can tell that none of you trust me right now. I’m tied up for fucks sake!” You pulled at your restraints dramatically. “How are we supposed to get along if you’re still treating me like a captive? We’re in the same boat, and you need me more than I need you.”

Namjoon stared at you with an expression you were unable to read. Your eyes finally decided to glance away from him, finding Jeongguk standing behind him with eyes widened with fear. While you were conversing with Namjoon, Jeongguk was behind him shaking his head and making small gestures with his hands for you to stop. If you noticed him earlier, maybe the crazy lie that came out of your mouth would've been put to rest. Hoseok had already informed Namjoon of what happened today, and you just made it ten times worse..

Namjoon let out a soft chuckle, chilling you to the bone. Your eyes rested on him again. “You know what, you’re right Y/N.” He stood up from the counter and walked towards you. “I got you a room upstairs, and you have free range of this house. I didn’t think leaving you with a member was still treating you like a captive, and for that, I am so terribly sorry.” The room was dead silent as he spoke. The was a tone to his voice, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He wasn’t genuine — when was he ever genuine? — but he wasn’t sarcastic either.

“I’m also so sorry that Hoseook handcuffed you.” His eyes left yours once more to look behind you. “We don’t handcuff our members Hoseok, you should know better!”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around to face Hoseok. You caught a glimpse of Hoseok’s confused face as Namjoon removed the handcuffs from your wrists. His eyes danced between you and Namjoon for a short moment before you were turned around again. As you faced Namjoon, he took your hand in his.

“You know, you have such beautiful hands, Y/N.” He complimented as his thumb stroked over your smooth skin. He admired your hand closely as if he was trying to take in every detail of your skin. He brought his other hand up and started to examine your pinky, which caused you to suddenly tense a little. You were completely unsure of where this was going as the alarms sounded in your head. How could you react? You didn’t want to fight him again based on what happened last time.

“It would be a shame if anything happened to them.”

“What—?”

There was no time for your brain to fully process his comment before you suddenly felt an immense pain coming from your finger. You screamed, feeling your legs go numb as your mind hyper-focused on that one area. You kneeled on the ground, holding your own hand as tears welled in your eyes at an instant and streamed down your cheeks. You glanced down at where the pain was inflicted, seeing your pinky was now at a 90-degree angle.

Namjoon slowly crouched down to your level, his arms resting on his legs as he looked at you writhing with pain. You looked up at him through blurred vision. “Think of that pain next time you wanna lie to my fucking face and try to run off when I agreed to your bullshit fucking terms.” He stood up and stuck his hands in his suit pockets as you narrowed your eyes at him. Whimpers escaped through your pressed lips as all you wanted to do was put a bullet through his head. “Seokjin, reset that.” He said calmly before walking down the hallway.

The room was as quiet as it could get despite the sounds of discomfort unwillingly parting from your throat. None one dared to say a word to you. After moving two steps ahead, you managed to take another three back. Seokjin grabbed a medical kit from the cabinet. He was then crouched in front of you before opening the small plastic bin. He took your injured hand in his with the most gentle of touches. He understood Namjoon’s reasoning behind breaking your pinky completely. You never experienced breaking a bone, and the pain was possibly worse than being grazed by a bullet.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin mumbled before bending your pinky to its original position. Another wave of pain sent a shockwave to your system. You tried to hold back the bone-chilling scream that slipped passed your lips. Seokjin flinched at the sound — it tugged something inside of him. This was always the most challenging part. The stress was too much for your body to handle. It went black for you once again.

Jeongguk’s heart hurt from watching the scene unfold. Your scream echoing through his ears made his stomach twist into knots. He tried to warn you, and only if he made a grander gesture, maybe you would’ve caught it quicker. His arms folded over his chest as he watched Seokjin put the brace on your finger. Hoseok picked your limp body off the floor afterward and carried you up the stairs. His feet then led him down the same hall Namjoon walked down before, not bothering to knock before stepping into his office. Namjoon eyes left his laptop, instantly glaring at the boy before leaning back in his seat.

“I don’t think you needed to do all that,” Jeongguk said.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh really? And what do you suggest I should’ve done instead?”

Jeongguk's eyes left his elder's as he glanced around his office. There wasn't much that made this office necessarily his. In fact, it looked akin to an IKEA display. Various pieces of furniture matched each other and had the same sleek, black wood finishing. The only thing that Jeongguk could instantly recognize as his brother's personal touch was the mini plum tree that sat on the corner of the desk, and a family portrait that they had taken a year before anything could've ever gone wrong. "Uh..." He couldn't admit to himself that there was a developing soft spot for you. And that said soft spot made him realize that you didn't deserve any punishment for doing what any rational person would've done in this situation. "I don't know. But I don't think you needed to go as far as breaking her pinky."

Namjoon nodded his head once, elbows propped onto the sleek black wood of his desk while his intertwined fingers rested against his chin. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. This one statement caused Jeongguk’s eyes to go round. 'You're right.' It felt so foreign to hear that phrase and was the last thing he could've expected. Namjoon waited until their eyes met again. “I should’ve made you break it instead.”

Jeongguk's whole body swelled with discomfort — starting from his midsection and spreading throughout to the very end of his fingertips — as his lips pressed into a thin line. Just the thought of him causing you pain again made him nauseous. Namjoon was looking for an outright reaction, whether that would be repulsion or discomfort. Jeongguk had never complained about the way he handled problems until recently. Usually, the younger was always on board with whatever. He always followed behind, sometimes with the utmost excitement. Jeongguk was just as twisted as him. But something was throwing him off, making him think more. Something was making him hesitant. Something, or someone, was giving him the confidence to step up. They made Jeongguk think that his opinions actually mattered, and he already had an inkling of who they could be.

“I doubt she’ll wanna cooperate now.” The younger said.

Namjoon only shrugged, directing his attention back to his laptop. “If she’s smart, she will.”

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