#Embroidered Bomber Jacket
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logomeup · 7 months ago
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Why You Should Invest in an Embroidered Bomber Jacket
An embroidered bomber jacket combines timeless style with intricate design, offering a versatile and fashionable addition to any wardrobe. it provides both comfort and sophistication, making it an excellent investment for any discerning individual. Read more!
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freshthoughts2020 · 4 months ago
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holmesoldfellow · 1 year ago
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Leather Jacket from the Iceberg x Sherlock Holmes collection by Jean-Charles de Castelbajac
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womenofwrestlingfashion · 10 months ago
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Crop Cotton Bomber Jacket in Embroidered Camo from Hudson Jeans ($59.97 - on sale)
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thetaforever · 3 months ago
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Shop Stylish Men’s Clothing Online at Theta Forever
Looking to buy men's clothes online? Discover the latest trends and timeless styles at Theta Forever. From casual wear to formal outfits, our online store offers a wide range of quality men’s clothing at affordable prices. Shop with confidence and upgrade your wardrobe today with our top-notch collection. Visit us now to explore exclusive deals and fast shipping on all orders.
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jacketssupplier · 10 months ago
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Why is a Bomber Jacket a Necessity for Every Wardrobe?
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Bomber jackets are constantly in vogue and will look great with any ensemble. They work well in both street and business casual environments. If you are still not convinced, remember that a bomber jacket is a terrific investment piece because....read more at: https://oasisjackets.home.blog/2023/09/21/why-is-a-bomber-jacket-a-necessity-for-every-wardrobe/
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fridayiminlcve · 1 year ago
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got like 4 gay little button ups at this new thrift store in my city in love for real
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bowldeepfannish · 1 month ago
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🥰🥰🥰🥰
Thank you so much for trusting me with this scene SB. This commission was also a very rare bright spot for me to engage with in less than ideal times.
--- Now oh gentle readers go read or reread this gem of a source fic from past SenshiShitennou server Bangs at the AO3 link above! 🥰
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a glorious commission from @bowldeepfannish -- the second scene from Last October, my apocalyptic Sailor Moon future fic, starring Nephrite and Endymion.
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mactavishsgfandwife · 11 months ago
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Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s (Fluff)
another random one but OMG imagine your daughter had needed those adorable baby glasses and simon took her to the optician to buy a pair 😭 like awwwwweewwwwwwwwe purest domestic fluff ever, not proofread
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He pulls her tiny, pink raincoat off of the coat hangers by the door, along with his own black bomber jacket that he holds under one arm, and he tenderly leans down to zip up her little jacket - the one with cutesy rubber ducks embroidered at the cuffs. Most people wouldn’t immediately assume them to be father and daughter. This huge, intimidating military man with sunglasses on in early Spring to hide his eyes and a small silver dog tag dangling down around his neck, dwarfed by his broad shoulders - and reaching her hand up to hold his, babbling something unintelligible about rocks, a little girl. Her hair was carefully tied into bunches - Simon had tried to do it himself but he somehow managed to miss out half of her hair, so he lifted her up over his shoulder as if he were a firefighter and went to find you.
"Y’married a soldier, not a hairdresser," he grinned, a little bit embarrassed.
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At the optician’s, he guides his little girl around the room, inspecting the shelves of different glasses. He holds her soft, little hand in his big, tough one. For a moment, he is distracted by some informational poster on the wall, but a sudden exasperated gasp from the 3 year old at his feet pulls him back to reality right away. Looking down, he sees her chubby hands holding a pair of adult sunglasses to her eyes, a big grin on her face.
"Glasses! Want glasses, daddy!" she giggles, the specs falling wonky on her little button nose. Simon laughs softly, crouching down to get closer to his baby, his elbows resting on the denim of his jeans.
"You can have glasses, love… but those are too big for a littl’un like you," he leans in to kiss her soft forehead, and tries to place the sunglasses back, as her little fingers paw at them.
"What about these ones..?" he smiles, holding out a little pair of pink glasses, purple at the edges, with sweet little stars along the sides. That smile on his face is met by her exaggerated, pleading eyes and her little sad pout, still trying to reach her hands out to the sunglasses that her daddy had meanly placed on a high shelf. :(
Simon finally settles on buying the sunglasses ‘for himself’, rolling his eyes with a small chuckle as he helps fit those cute, purple glasses to his little girl’s face, turning her to look at herself in the mirror of the shop.
"Ahh!" she lets out a little, excited squeal, "I love it, Daddy!"
"You look so pretty, little girl," he smiles protectively, trying not to laugh as he sees her chubby, grinning face looking up at him behind those glasses that make her eyes seem twice as big as normal.
Her little mary-jane shoes run in circles around the shop, as she lets out little squeaks of joy and mumbles to herself - in the end, it takes your husband a whole 10 minutes to convince her to take them off so that he can buy them, and on the walk home she does her best to speed ahead of him (not that he would ever actually allow her out of his sight), shouting, "Faster, Daddy!", alternating between running away from him and walking slow at his side, panting from the running until he caved and carried her. She was just so excited and couldn’t wait to go home and show Mummy. <3
And she looks so cute when she excitedly rushes into the kitchen, screwing up her face and giggling as she tells you all about her new glasses, Simon leaning against the doorframe in the background and chuckling softly as he watches, unable to hide how much he loves his little family.
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i love him so much i’m crying tears thanks for reading lovelies! x
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morningwitchy · 8 months ago
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3 days away from the part 1 launch of the necromancer trench coat! i decided to split the initial release into 2 parts that release in different time frames.
PART 1 - APRIL 20TH, 1 PM EST
this release will include the trench coat and the witch's garden sweatshirt (seen here!)
100% cotton for both garments - the trench coat has embroidered details and the sweatshirt is screenprinted.
sizes small-3xl, please take a look at the size charts since i use my own sizing!
PART 2 - MAY 4TH, 9 PM EST
this will include the remaining 50% of trench coat stock plus a restock of the embroidered bomber jackets!
while stock is limited for this initial release, this is NOT limited edition and everything will return if/when it sells out! 🖤🤍
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baalzebufo · 5 months ago
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oh yeah... redrew my older pines designs + also gideon is here because I like him and will inflict him on everyone. probably in their early 20s here, I didnt think too hard about the specifics. also some headcanons
dipper started testosterone finally so he's got the classic 'shitty little puberty stache' and also hes breaking out w acne bit. wears a lot of denim on denim. him and wendy swap hats every summer its their tradition. he has a bomber jacket with lots of alien and cryptid patches. sometimes he has kind of a mullet going on
mabel regularly chops all her hair off in the mirror with some scissors whenever the impulse hits so at any given point of her life it can be either waist-length or a buzzcut. she got into making kandi and has a bunch of themed cuffs. rhinestones. sparkles. thats a tamagotchi necklace
gideon has embraced his inner cowboy and got some riding chaps ostensibly because he has a motorcycle now but also because he thinks he looks cool. his bolo tie is a replica of his old cursed variant because fiddling with it is a comfort to him. hes got a custom leather jacket with his star embroidered on the back
hes also so tall because. well honestly my headcanon is he has an insane growth spurt in his teens. have you SEEN bud gleeful? he's huge. hes got Big Dude Genes. also honestly i just think its funny if he goes from being knee-high to 6 feet tall in the space of like, 6 months.
(i was gonna add other characters to this but i got distracted so thats for another time)
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logomeup · 9 months ago
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The classic bomber jacket gets a modern upgrade! This blog explores the timeless style of embroidered bomber jackets. Discover how to elevate your look with this versatile piece. Learn more!
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freshthoughts2020 · 2 days ago
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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 8 months ago
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Seventeen & matching/couple items
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💕Who; seventeen (individually) x gender-neutral reader 💕What; soft thoughts about the couple items they'd have with their significant other 💕Wordcount; around 1.5k altogether 💕Warnings; none! I didn't even swear in this, go me
-2024 Masterlist-
A/N; this wasn't supposed to be a whole thing which is why there's no capitalisation, plus it's almost 2 am so I am not about to go through and change the style now
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seungcheol; definitely rings. i imagine something simple and in silver with both of your initials on the inside so it's more subtle but he can still look down at it when he needs the strength you give him but he's also always giving you his hoodies/jackets/hats and will buy another of any you refuse to give back so you wind up matching that way too but only intentionally in private. cheol likes to show you off but only to those he trusts and loves because he only wants you to feel the love you deserve
jeonghan; jackets, like matching bomber-style jackets with cute embroidery and maybe your names embroidered on them somewhere. but he often steals yours so you have to wear his just so that he can see his name on you he'll definitely come up to you one day like "babe, let's get matching tattoos" only to show you a packet of temporary tattoos he got for some change in a machine. the designs are all clearly aimed at children but you both wind up with arms dotted in these cute little matching images
joshua; something sweet and handmade because it means more. yes, im talking about his handmade bracelets, or beaded keychains you made for each other one lazy afternoon full of giggles as you make each other the most atrocious keychains in a competition to make the worst just for the fun of it. yet you both still adore the keychain gifted to you because the other made it and wear it proudly on your favourite/daily bags omg mugs, every morning(if you live together) he gets up earlier than you on purpose just so that he can make sure that he can make you both your morning beverages(regardless of if you drink hot drinks or not) in the matching mugs. he smiles sleepy and content at you every time without fail as he watches you sip at your mug with the sweet phrase on that matches his own
junhui; i don't know why but i suddenly imagined matching plushies and that feels right. maybe you happened to both win the same one during an arcade date in a claw machine but now you both sleep with that same one on your bed even if it's for an anime neither of you has watched i don't imagine jun purposely getting matching items because it wouldn't really occur to him as he's never felt the need to boast, he's happy with you and he hopes you're the same though when you're out together wandering around stores and see little decor you both like, he'll rush to buy you one each so your living spaces matches. (he's really just slyly making your homes similar enough that it won't seem like such a difference when he asks you to move in)
soonyoung; i actually think he'd be quite subtle with it tbh. he'd give you a tiger plushie keychain to attach to your bag and he'd have a matching one of your favourite animal on his own and will always fiddle with it mindlessly and think of you. so it actually wears out quite often and he has to geta new one. though he keeps the damaged ones in a secret box under his bed because it'd feel like throwing a piece of you out, he really does link the cute little plushie to you so much he might also like something like bucket hats/beanies that match but in simple designs/colours so although you two know they're purposely matching, others will just see you both in plain black bucket hats and think nothing of it other than an easy to happen coincidence
wonwoo; wonwoo would definitely want something just for you two that isn't necessarily an obvious couple item. maybe a cute little enamel badge on his favourite jacket and you have the same on your daily bag also matching gaming headphones because how can i not mention that? even if you don't really game, he'll buy a set he's had his eyes on for ages aimed at couples, with the matching stands and keeps both on his desk so he can look over at your one even if you're not there. always makes him smile to himself and perk up even if he's about to rage quit a game
jihoon; another simple subtle kind of guy. i'm imagining something like braided leather-look bracelets with silver beads with a heart etching which he only takes off to shower/swim and will glare at any stylist who tries to convince him to remove it another one with matching headphones but in this case it's more that jihoon bought you a pair specifically for his studio so that you can listen to what he's working on with him without any outside noises disturbing your peace like can happen with the speakers. sometimes he subtley removes his own when he plays songs you already know just to hear you singing along softly while you do work on your laptop without realising he's listening to you utterly enamoured
seokmin; necklaces, probably multiple of them but his favourite is one of those where you shine a light through the gem and it projects a chosen photo onto the wall or something. the amount of times the others have found seokmin tucked up in a dark corner somewhere awkwardly trying to use the light on his phone to shine through the necklace without removing it is unreal. cute boy just wants to see the first photo you two ever took together for comfort <3 but i also imagine that one upon a time you two were in a store and he saw novelty hats and he didn't manage to slyly buy them for you both because he kept giggling so you found out before he made it to pay but you let him buy them because he looked to happy. so now you both have a novelty hat hanging proudly in your homes, you don't wear them but it makes you both smile to look at
mingyu; everything. he'll want every possible matching couple item. hoodies, bags, hats, rings, bracelets(im emotionally attached to the one he gives reader in this fic i wrote), necklaces, phone cases. omg phone cases, that's his favourite and you can bet there's multiple of them and he matches them to his outfit so every morning you get a selfie of his outfit, but not the case because he likes to make a game out of seeing if you'll guess the correct case to put on your phone that day to match (you always do)
minghao; i feel like he'd like matching necklaces or bracelets, something delicate and simple but full of meaning for you both. he'd especially love a necklace long enough that he can hold the pendant over his heart as he thinks of you when you're apart and hopes you're thinking of him too but he'd also like to make something, maybe one of you buys an embroidery kit one day for you two to try something new together and you personalise matching premade little zip bags(coin purse/toiletry bag idk what you'd call them) to gift each other. obviously as it's your first attempt at embroidery, they don't turn out that great but minghao proudly carries him around all the time with whatever little items he may need during the day and doesn't want to lose in his bag
seokmin; i have no idea why but my brain said shoes and now honestly that seems so random but i can't let it go now so you have matching shoes, a variety to match a range of outfits. They may not be exactly the same(though some are) but they're similar enough to work. seungkwan always smiles dopily to himself then plays it off and side eyes you when you tease him for it, though he's realyl fighting hard not to smile because he really loves the unique way to match with you also matching scarf/gloves/hat sets for the cold weather because he loves bundling you up so you're all cosy snug. the matching aspect is just a happy bonus and definitely always leads to loads of selfies with your matching pink cheeks and noses barely in view under the thick scarves
vernon; t-shirts, band tees, graphic tees, plain ones. just t-shirts. it started because you always stole his and he didn't realise it was because they're his so he bought you the same ones and took his back, only for you to swap them out next time. but he knows now and buys two of pretty much every t-shirt he buys though makes sure to wear one a handful of times before giving that one to you because he knows you like things he's worn he's also the type i think to like carrying a photo of you two in his wallet/tucked hidden into his phone case, like a photobooth one and obviously you have the other half of the strip in your own
chan; honestly, i think chan would just be happy to do whatever you want with matching. he thinks it's cute as hell to match with his partner but he won't really be the one to actively bring it up, just hint "oh look, babe, that couple have matching jackets, isn't that cute?" until you get the hint and ask him to get something matching with you, though he still has you lead it just anything at all would be his favourite regardless of if it was just a cheap prize keyring from the arcade or expensive brand new phones just to match, he won't care so long as he gets to show off that you two belong to each other
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A/N- if you liked this, don't forget to let me know so that I know to try and do more things like this & also reblog so others can enjoy it too!
And if you have ideas/suggestions for seventeen content, feel free to send me an ask to help inspire me to write! (or just scream at me about the ideas if you want and I'll likely scream back with a continuation with your own thoughts tbh)
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theharrowing · 4 months ago
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Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction
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Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?
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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon
🗡️ word count: 13.6k
🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 
🗡️warnings: violence (a man gets stabbed in the eye, weaponized chopsticks, blood); recreational drug use & getting drunk; vomit.
🗡️note: are we ready to continue this story??? the cast of characters has doubled in size, and i think the angst & drama has multiplied, as well. i wrote this opening scene on april 20, 2023 moments after watching the Haegeum mv. it feels good to have finally built the rest of the chapter around it over a year later. this chapter is like 80% dialogue, lol sorry. we are setting up for what is to come in the rest of the fic. enjoyyy!!!
🗡️ also note: in this chapter, mc is borrowing clothing. if you are comfortable with imagining the clothing belongs to the thin kpop idols, please do. if you are not, then please don't. i am not making assumptions or allusions to body size but instead trying to paint a picture of being at the mercy of others.
🗡️ if you have not read the Yoongi POV chapter, i strongly recommend you do so before reading this.
🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin
🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3
PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT
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“He looks hesitant,” Ryujin drawls in a bored tone. She turns to face you and her lips upturn at the edges, eyes sparkling. “Like he’s scared of what he may find when he gets here.”
The air is stiflingly hot, creating a sticky film over your skin, and your body feels heavier than it should. In this humidity, you are dizzy and agitated. More than anything, you are not ready to come face to face with the man who has caused you so much confusion and mental duress.
“Good,” you say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers dig into your hip bones, and you do your best not to shuffle anxiously. You do not fully believe in your conviction, but you want your performance to be believable enough that the girls don't think you're weak. “He should be.”
“Looks like he brought all the family men,” she adds, turned back to watch their approach. 
Your heart flutters suddenly, wondering whether she means Jimin is there too, unable to hide the tremble in your voice as you ask, “A-all of them?”
This time, when Ryujin faces you, her expression appears contemplative, almost sad. 
“All of them,” she confirms, causing nausea and excitement to stir. 
All you can say in response is, “Oh.”
Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you forward, toward the window. You do not fully approach, not wanting to be seen, so you stop as soon as you spot them walking in the street toward the noodle shop downstairs that doubles as your hideout. 
Seven figures approach in a V formation. Six of them wear ratty dark t-shirts and khaki pants, and they hold what look like juvenile weaponry—baseball bats and chains. Over their heads are balaclavas, reminding you of Christian's men. Is it meant to taunt him, you wonder. Do they think they will find him and his men here?
Yoongi is in the center, leading the charge, with no face covering and wearing a baby blue satin bomber jacket with thick white lines down the sleeves. On the breasts of the jacket are embroidered dragon heads, reminding you of Namjoon. 
Namjoon. The thought of seeing him again, like this, makes your insides stir. You feel the urge to vomit, but you hold your ground and watch as the men approach, wearing a frown on your lips. 
When the heads disappear from sight, you turn and listen for the silence that lingers in the air, save for the thrum of your pulse. A calm before a terrible storm.
Ryujin lets out a long, loud trill of a whistle—a signal, no doubt—and you listen as the 
hideout breaks out into chaos. Men scramble through the short hallway that leads out into the open space that Yoongi and his men will soon enter. 
"No guns!" Ryujin commands as she stomps through the space toward the hallway, clad in a white tank top tucked into a short black tennis skirt and tall leather equestrian boots. "You are on the defense only. Do not harm a single hair on any of these men's bodies. Do so and you die!"
As you stand near the window, you listen to the street commotion below. Vehicles drive along the narrow roads, vendors shout while ringing bells and chimes, and in the distance, a dog barks. 
You know that you will not hear the men's approaching footfalls, but you listen for them, anyway. Yoongi and the family men only need to walk through the small dining hall of the open-air restaurant below, then up a flight of stairs. You hear nothing that might give their positions away. 
"Wanna hide?" Hwasa—the nickname of your darling friend Hyejin—asks. She rests her chin on your shoulder and loosely wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a perfume of roses and lilies.
You shake your head and mutter, "No," watching the doorway for any movement.
Finally, heavy footfalls echo through the space, giving you goosebumps, and when you hear the sounds of shouting followed by someone running into the room, you hold your breath. 
"Fuck, fuck!" a man yells as he rounds the corner and cowers, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He seems to be patting himself down for a weapon, then he sighs and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his back to the wall. 
"Ya!" Hwasa yells, making the man gasp. "What is it?"
"B-big Duri," the man stammers, eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly as if attempting to clear away his thoughts. 
Duri is a hulk of a man who stands watch at the top of the stairs. He is as muscular as he is tall, with a bit of softness around his belly, and his towering status has earned him the title Big Duri from the other men. One snarl from him makes men cower away in fear.
"What about him?" Hwasa asks.
"He was s-stabbed," the man says, staring at the floor. "In the f-f-fucking eye."
Hwasa drops her arms from around you and stands up straight. You open your mouth to speak but find no sound can pass your lips. 
Footfalls approach, heavy and fast. You are not sure who you expect storming in from the hallway, but for some reason, it is not Yoongi. 
He walks in assuredly like he owns the place, dark hair framing his face in waves. Clenched in his right fist are two bright red chopsticks that look like the ones served at the restaurant downstairs, and you could swear the thinner ends of them are dripping with blood. 
"Darling, let's go," Yoongi says, wide eyes fixed on you. He looks like a madman with his hair somewhat disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his throat.  
You are surprised to see Yoongi dressed as he is. Under the pastel jacket is a white tee tucked into loose-fitting blue jeans. When was the last time you saw him in blue jeans? Your first trip to Hong Kong?
You heavy-blink, breaking from the thought process, and attempt to hold steady and keep cool. But you do not feel cool. Your pulse quickens, and you worry you might faint. 
"I'm staying here," you say, voice trembling. 
You half expect Yoongi to storm over and grab you by the arm. Part of you even feels saddened when he stays where he is. 
"Darling," Yoongi says, lifting his free hand to wave you over. "I'm not asking you twice."
"How many men did you kill out there?" you ask, eyes on the chopsticks that drip blood beside his dusty white sneaker. Yoongi's arm drops to his side and he heaves a weighty sigh, shoulders falling. 
Behind Yoongi, Ryujin saunters in. She grins and stands beside Yoongi, resting her head against his shoulder as she reaches for the bloodied chopsticks in his fist, saying, "You owe me a bodyguard."
Yoongi—whose eyes never leave you—throws the chopsticks to the floor, off to the side. They clatter against the uneven wood, and you wince at the thought of blood splattering. 
He mutters, "Fine." 
With that admission, you surmise that Yoongi has, indeed, stabbed Big Duri in the eye. How he managed to do so when he is so much smaller than the man is beyond you. You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating. 
Slowly, Ryujin lifts her head from Yoongi's shoulder. She turns her gaze to you as she says, "She doesn't want this life, Yoongi. She told you so, herself."
"Darling," Yoongi says, seemingly ignoring Ryujin, making her roll her eyes. "I will make some changes. We will figure it out. Just come home."
You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to leave."
"You are in danger," Yoongi insists, and you scoff. For the first time since you have arrived to this dingy place, there has been no hint of violence until he turned up. 
As Yoongi sighs, his nostrils flair. You can clearly see that he has something on his mind, but he remains still and silent. 
Anger rises, and you clench your fists at your sides. This is not the reunion you expected, but you cannot say you are shocked. "I told you I no longer want this life, and the first thing you do is stab a man—a good man!"
"Darling, I—" 
"Go home," you interrupt. 
Yoongi watches you, expression cold save for a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Every nerve in your body wants to propel you forward and into his arms, but you do not want to return to the home of a maniac who attacks men with chopsticks, beautiful as that maniac may be. 
"I have told you time and again that I cannot handle this life of death and destruction! And here you are, bringing it straight to my feet. Go home, Yoongi."
Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, raising his eyebrows. In the doorway, you see Namjoon appear, balaclava raised to his forehead. His dark grey tee is smeared with sweat and blood, and before he can open his mouth to speak, you turn around. There is absolutely no way you will be able to keep your strength if you are forced to face any more of them. 
"She wants you to leave," Hwasa says. You are grateful for her as you hear the heels of her boots against the rickety hardwood. "Now!"
"I want to speak to her," Namjoon says, and you are surprised to hear Yoongi say, "She does not wish to speak. Come on."
As their deep, low voices mutter, tears fill your eyes. You breathe in deeply, hoping to ward them off, but as you exhale, the air comes out shattered, and you know that you are only moments away from crying. 
"Tomorrow night, we can sit down and discuss matters," Ryujin says. 
You keep your eyes on the late afternoon sky, hanging on her every word. 
"Amicably," she continues. "No weapons. No hot tempers. And you have a man en route to Busan to take Duri's place when we arrive. Deal?"
"All of us?" Namjoon asks, and you fight the edges of your lips, which curl into a sad smile. 
Ryujin sighs. "Yes, all seven of you sordid little devils. Now get the fuck out of my hideout. You gave our darling a scare and I will not have her fainting because of it. I will send you a time and place, and you will show up dressed as respectable men. Seriously, what the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like trash."
Ryujin's voice fades as she continues to berate them, footsteps retreating, and it occurs to you once more that somewhere out in the chaos is Jimin. You turn, and the movement causes Yoongi's head to lift and eyes to open wide and expectantly, standing halfway in the hallway. You were not expecting him to still be here. To your disappointment, Namjoon has already left the room.
"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 
Relief floods Yoongi's face, and he cracks a smile, nodding as he says, "Yes. Come see him."
You shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. 
"Glad he's awake," you say. "Perhaps I will see you all tomorrow." 
Yoongi's expression turns sad, and you watch as he mouths the word perhaps before you turn your attention back to the window. The sound of his shoes retreating makes you want to throw up, and you swallow it down as a single tear streaks your left cheek. 
* * *
Ryujin lies on a large fur rug that she has pulled near the window. Atop the rug is a mess of blankets and pillows, and her limbs tangle with those of Hwasa and the other three girls. 
You sit arrow straight on the wide window sill, staring at the street below. The sky slowly darkens, illuminating the buildings with an orange glow that is exaggerated by the neon lights on each restaurant and storefront. 
"Yes, Yoongi," Ryujin says into her phone, playful irritation in her tone. "I swear to you there is nobody by that name in our ranks. Seokjin-oppa has already warned me about his possible presence."
You listen, hoping to hear traces of Yoongi's voice coming through the phone, but you know that it is hopeless; his dulcet tones do not exactly travel far even while in the same room as him. Muffled and at a distance, the notion is hopeless.
"You know," Ryujin continues, "you would have less to worry about if you hadn't stabbed my most trusty security guard in the fucking eye with a chopstick."
Her words make you wince, and you turn away from the window, staring at the empty wall opposite where Ryujin and the girls rest. The floral wallpaper is peeled in places and tinted brown from water damage, but otherwise, the space is clean and empty, save for six suitcases and the items Ryujin has brought in and strewn about for comfort. 
Outside of this room is a hallway that connects to more rooms, though you have not bothered to look into any of them, save for the bathroom, which is the first room to the right as you exit this one. Whatever this hideout was originally built for, you do not know, and you do not care, although you imagine at least one of the rooms could serve as office space for the restaurant below. 
A shrill laugh barks through the air, making you jump. You gaze over your shoulder to find Ryujin's head tilted back, eyes closed as she full-body laughs. 
"Don't be a fucking idiot," she says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. "No scrub in clown paint is going to buy our little darling from me. Now get some sleep; we'll talk about this tomorrow evening, as promised."
Something about Ryujin calling you our little darling sends a chill along your spine, and you turn back to staring at nothing. She ends the call abruptly, and you hear as her phone clatters against the wooden floor, undoubtedly tossed aside. 
"Darling," Ryujin calls, voice soft and pretty, causing your shoulders to rise to your ears as if protecting you—from what, you are unsure. 
You swallow hard. "Hmm?"
Ryujin giggles. "Come. You're so tense. Relax with us."
She is correct that you are tense. You have been tense for days. When you got into her car at the airport, she said you would be here for two or three days, but it is going on a week, and you are tired of sleeping on rugs in a pile of bodies. You want to return to a bed. Any bed. 
As you turn to face Ryujin and the others, you are struck by a sense of homesickness and longing that makes your stomach churn. Hwasa and three slender beauties called Solar, Wheein, and Moonbyul crowd Ryujin, who sits up on her elbows, gaze fixed on you.
Hwasa's head is against Ryujin's left shoulder, near her breast, and she watches you, as well, gaze soft but pleading. Moonbyul, with her long, straight hair lightened to a pale gold blonde, has her head on Hwasa's tummy, curled in on her. The other two are resting similarly, with Solar clinging to Ryujin and Wheein clinging to Solar, long dark hair draped over limbs which are draped over more limbs clad in white cotton and black spandex. 
You watch them in their near-stillness, questioning where you would fit. Clearly, the five of them are tight. They call her mother, and she proudly dotes on them as if they are her precious children.
Ordinarily, you wait for everyone to begin dozing off, then you curl up on one of the outside edges, back turned from whichever woman is beside you. But you know that Ryujin wants you to be physically close to her—you can tell by the way she watches you.
What would physical closeness to a woman like her entail, you wonder. 
"So shy," Ryujin pouts. "So moody."
Hwasa, as if mirroring her energy, juts out her bottom lip. 
Ryujin tilts her head, studying you. "What does the lady require to help take the edge off?"
Although she is not explicitly saying so, you know that she is offering pills. Every day that you do not give in and crawl to Ryujin and her pile of women, she assumes it is due to some defect in your ability to relax. In a way, you suppose, she is correct. 
"Going home would take the edge off," you respond, voice flat and lacking all mirth.
Ryujin sighs, and her pretty, impish smile falls into a dramatic frown. "I, too, would like to go home. And I promise that we will, soon. Yoongi is convinced there is some third party attempting to track you down, and he has been insistent on weeding the man out. He seems to think that you are safest while remaining in hiding. I, however, think we are sitting ducks."
You hum and nod.
She sits up ever so slightly, causing the clinging women to shift along with her movement. "What do you think?"
What do you think? Such a simple, innocent question, yet it stirs an anger in you that is so deep, festering in the dark pits of you that are fed by lack of proper comfort and sleep. 
There is a part of you that wants to snap at Ryujin and ask whether she really cares what you think. You want to storm up to her, take her by the straps of her white tank top, and shake some sense into her while demanding she returns you to Korea at once. 
Another part of you worries that Yoongi is being too paranoid to think clearly and that he is making an already strange situation worse. You find it hard to believe Christian has weaseled his way into Taiwan and is lying in wait to pounce, if that is what the phone call just now suggests.
But, then again, you never would have imagined Christian would show up with a briefcase of money, nor did you expect to see him turning up to the mansion in the middle of the night. Still, the notion feels ridiculous. You're not in Korea anymore. 
You shrug, purse your lips as if you are thinking it over, and say, "I don't really know."
Truth be told, you are exhausted, catapulting emotionally from one extreme to another, finding it impossible to truly relax. You are not sure whether Ryujin has done anything to deserve your vitriol; she has kept you safe and fed, even if you are slowly succumbing to exhaustion-induced hysteria. 
Her history with Yoongi notwithstanding, she appears reasonable and kind. It is hard to hate her for her past when it has opened up Yoongi's arms to you—for better or worse. It is not as if you regret the time you have spent with him.
And, if you are being honest, you wonder whether the transgression between them was as simple as the men put it, or if there is more to her side of the story. Surely, she did not wake up one day and decide to betray the man she loved.
Or, perhaps, she is charming you the way Yoongi did. What better way to tame a wild beast than to uproot it from the comfort and safety it has grown accustomed to and force it into close proximity, giving it no other choice than to be grateful and eventually feel some semblance of love toward its captor. Maybe she and Yoongi have more in common than you realize.
The thought makes you snicker, and you stand, taking notice of how Ryujin lifts her chin and watches you. Hwasa stirs and sits up, causing Moonbyul to roll off of her with a groan and clench onto the pillow below her.
"Going to the bathroom," you say.
Hwasa stands as Ryujin sing-songs, "Buddy system," causing you to smile and roll your eyes. 
You are not allowed to do anything outside of this room—including taking a shit—without the accompaniment of one of the girls. Lucky for you, Hwasa is always willing and eager to be close.  
Hwasa tiptoes over and snakes an arm around your elbow, momentarily resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk. You have come to enjoy her company quite a bit, and you are relieved to have her here. 
While it was shocking to lay eyes on Hwasa after your plane landed in Taiwan, she was very clear and open about her circumstances, and you found it easy to trust her. According to her, Seokjin and Jimin gave her the position at Paradise knowing she was one of Ryujin's women, reminding you of Hyunjin and how he and his family were safe, after all. 
Yoongi may not have been working directly with Ryujin this entire time, but it seems that his men have been. And, judging by how comfortable he seemed with letting Ryujin touch him and boss him around earlier, you do not suspect that he harbors the same ill thoughts that he seemed to when you first encountered her all those months ago. 
You wonder what has changed. Has it been your presence in his life, or something more? After all the destruction Ryujin's team has caused Yoongi's family over the last several months, ending with Jimin in a coma, some sort of truce had to have been made. You have heard whispers of conversations, but you are curious about the specifics. It seems the woman who was at the helm of the destruction, Hyungseo, is not here. 
In due time, you think. You have no doubt Ryujin will open up to you.
As you and Hwasa leave the room and venture quietly into the hall, two armed men look up from the game of Chinese checkers that they play on the floor, and smile. They are beautiful, and you smile back, yanking your gaze away from them before you are able to make any more of an impression on either of them.
Admittedly, you are lonely. Physically, emotionally, sexually…and there is something in the gleams of their eyes that stirs you deeply, but you know that it is not them who do it for you. 
It is their eyes. They share the same piercing, knowing gaze of hunger and brutality that glimmers in the eyes of the family men. Your family men. 
"I think Yunho likes you," Hwasa teases, voice loud enough for him to undoubtedly hear, though you do not turn back to look. 
Instead, you press your palm against the cold metal door leading into the small bathroom and sheepishly ask, "Which one is he, again?"
A snicker comes from the floor, undoubtedly from Yunho's companion Seonghwa, and you turn as you enter the dimly lit room, grinning widely at your friend. The bathroom door swings shut, and the scents of toilet cleaner and bleach sting your nose. 
There are three toilet stalls in this room with mint green painted metal doors. The walls are a similar shade of green, and the yellow and white tiles on the floor are chipped in places.
You make your way to the sinks straight ahead and turn on the water, which is always cold, and run your hands under the stream. On the counter, in the corner, is a large black makeup case containing travel-sized toiletries for yourself and the rest of the women, and you open its lid and rummage around for your toothbrush and toothpaste. 
"How are you holding up?" Hwasa asks as you unscrew the cap from the toothpaste and squeeze a small dollop of its contents onto your bristles, careful not to take too much. 
You shrug, and rather than respond, raise the brush to your mouth. The mint is cloyingly sweet as it hits your taste buds, and you close your eyes, worried that its minty sting may tangle with your emotions and cause tears to well.
"Will you be joining Ryujin to meet with them for dinner tomorrow?"
Without opening your eyes, you begin to shake your head, not sure whether you can handle sitting at the same table with all of them. But then Jimin's bright, gleaming smile crosses your mind, and you shrug and nod. You may as well. 
Hwasa chuckles, and her hands rest softly on your shoulders before giving a gentle squeeze. All at once, you relax, dropping your shoulders and tipping your head forward, instinctively giving her permission to do anything she would like. 
As you finish brushing your teeth and tongue, she squeezes your muscles and rolls her thumbs in circles. You hold the small plastic brush between your teeth, feeling a dribble of frothy, minty spit roll down your lip to your chin, and you rest your palms against the counter until Hwasa lifts her hands away. 
"I suppose I should brush my teeth, too," she says with a pout in her tone, and you open your eyes to see her squirting some paste onto a matching toothbrush that she has written AH on in large letters for Ahn Hyejin. 
You spit, rinse, and spit some more, then use the inside of your sweaty black tank top to dab the moisture from the edges of your mouth. When Hwasa is finished, the two of you link arms once more and make your way out of the bathroom, ignoring Yunho and Seonghwa as you walk by. 
The rest of the girls, led by Ryujin, walk by in a fit of soft giggles, and you make your way to the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling physically exhausted despite being uncertain of whether you may actually be able to sleep. 
Hwasa follows and lies down beside you, beaming as she scoots nice and close and wraps an arm around your waist before you have a chance to roll away and face the wall. 
"Not so fast," she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. "You always roll away. Snore in my face for once."
Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. "I do not snore."
Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, "Everyone snores a little," and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.
You feel too warm, and the scent of Hwasa's perfume mingling with her body heat stirs something inside you, filling you with the urge to flee. You are lonely, and she is beautiful and soft, and suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room.
At a loss, you close your eyes. Whether you roll your body away or continue to face her, she will not create more distance because she cannot. As soon as the other girls return, they will pile into the bed, and you will feel the weight of ankles and wrists drape over you. 
"Good night, pretty dove," Hwasa sing-songs. 
You crack a smile, unable to hold back despite how dangerous it feels to allow yourself to be anything but stoic and collected for the time being. The nickname reminds you of Paradise and of Jimin, and you are unable to hold back. 
"Good night, Hyejin," you mutter in response, forgetting her nickname for the familiar one as her warmth and comfort lulls you fast into a sleep you did not expect to come. 
You actually feel…good.
* * *
The rattle and clanking of dishes and silverware have all of your nerves on high alert, causing your pulse to spike and your palms to sweat. You are acutely aware of the fact that at any moment, several men you miss and adore are going to come walking into the private dining room to join you, Ryujin, and Hwasa, and you are going to have to face them.
Each time a member of the serving staff enters, your eyes dart up in panic, and each time they bow apologetically, confusion painted across their features. Under the table, from your right, Hwasa grips onto your hand and mutters kind words that are lost over the pounding of your heart. 
When your trio arrived first, you were grateful. You assumed that by the time you waited on the arrival of the men, your nerves would have calmed and you would have composed yourself. 
But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong. 
With each passing second, your heart riots behind your ribs, quick and dizzying. You feel the urge to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but you are terrified of what it may do to Yoongi if he arrives to find that you are not sitting at this table. 
Food and drink are brought in. Large dishes covered in steaming meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles. Carafe after carafe is set down, and as you sit forward to peer into one of them, Hwasa says, "That is kaoliang. Fermented liquor from China." Your mouth begins to water, but you are not sure you are ready just yet to start drinking. 
Shadows linger outside the door to the private room, tall and wide blobs obscured by the privacy glass. Ryujin glances at her watch, mutters, "Fucking finally," and stands, causing Hwasa to stand as well. 
You remain glued to your seat. Even if you wanted to stand, you are not sure you would be able to. 
As the door slides open, your heart pounds. Seokjin enters with a smirk and a bow of his head, followed by Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, Namjoon, and finally, Yoongi. 
Jimin beams, eyes and mouth wide and happy, and he rounds the table in a rush, pushing past Ryujin, who attempts to pull him into a hug. Your eyes fill with tears, and as you finally get onto your feet, legs wobbling beneath you, the tears spill, streaking your cheeks. 
You stumble and crash into the papered wall from the force of Jimin's hug, elbow scraping and stinging, but you do not care. Jimin smells and feels so familiar, and you sob in his arms, burying your face into his black lapel and letting out a deep, shattered breath.
"Oh my god," you manage to mutter against his shoulder, and he tries to loosen the hug to hear you speak, but you shake your head like a petulant child and pull him closer, refusing to let go. "I was so scared, Jimin. I thought I might never— I've missed you so much."
Voices greet one another, and chairs scrape across the floor, signaling that the others have begun to find their seats. This time, when Jimin begins to release the hug, you allow him, dropping your hands from his shoulders but holding them loosely around his hips.
Jimin's eyes are glassy with tears, and hair is slightly longer, almost grown out into a mullet. For the first time since you have met him, it is brown, and you mutter, "Nice hair," while doing your best to smile widely despite still crying. 
He grimaces at you, lifting his hands to thumb away the moisture under your eyes. Then he leans in, kisses the tip of your nose, and says, "All better, dove."
"Thank you," you whisper, sound lodged in your throat, then you release Jimin for good and pivot to take your seat, taking a deep breath before allowing your eyes to fall on the rest of the men. 
To your surprise and dismay, you find Ryujin sitting across from you with her eyebrows raised and a sharp, devious smile playing on her lips. To her left is Hwasa, and to her right is Jeongguk. You do not need to look to see that Yoongi and Namjoon have taken the seats on either side of you because of course, they have. Where else would they be?
But you do look. You sweep the sprawling rectangular table, starting with Namjoon at your left, then Hoseok, with Seokjin at the far end, where you anticipated Yoongi might sit. Past Seokjin is Taehyung, then Jeongguk, then Ryujin, who is leaning to the side and whispering something to Hwasa, whose hand reaches to where Jimin sits on the other far end. 
Jimin inspects Hwasa's rings and nails, dainty fingers tracing delicate lines. When she turns back to look at him, there are tears in her eyes, and you realize belatedly that she has missed him, as well. Of course, she has.
You do not look at Yoongi, gaze ending with Jimin. Yoongi clears his throat, causing Ryujin to stand, and—feeling uncomfortable with also standing while she speaks—you quickly have a seat. 
Ryujin bows her head, hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. She, matching Hwasa, wears a black suit with a white silk blouse, blending in with the black suits and black satin undershirts the men wear. You are the odd one out in a sleek black evening gown; Ryujin was insistent. At least it, too, is satin. 
"Gentlemen," Ryujin says, and all at once, the men stand, bow their heads, and sit, including Yoongi, who scoots in close beside you. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust you have found us a replacement bodyguard?"
Yoongi hums a gruff, low note, and you are acutely aware of his presence by your side. His scent—earthy and musky, ever so slightly tinged with citrus—sneaks past the savory blend of food smells and floods your senses. You swallow a lump of trepidation that has crept its way to your throat. 
"First of all, I would like to thank you for trusting me with taking care of our little darling," Ryujin says, turning to look at Seokjin. She remains standing. "As you are all aware, things between Yoongi and I have not always been easy. But, moving forward, I would like for all of us to remain amicable."
At this, Ryujin's eyes land on Yoongi. She appears fierce and ruthless in the way she looks down at him, lips upturned as if to show that she is enjoying this position of power. 
You glance from the corner of your eye to find that Yoongi peers back up at her, sitting tall on the edge of his seat. His expression is blank, as is to be expected. There is a long pause during which you wish someone would speak or move to eat or drink—anything to cut through the tension.
Finally, Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and sits back, shifting his weight in a more relaxed position. He clears his throat, and you turn your gaze to the piles of meats, vegetables, noodles, and rice. 
It sounds as if Yoongi attempts more than once to speak but struggles to find the words. At this, Namjoon sits forward, pulling your attention to the left, and he asks, "May I?"
Ryujin's face lights up. "Of course, Joonie-oppa. The floor is yours."
"Firstly, thank you for your hospitality. The hideout was certainly difficult to locate—"
Ryujin snickers. At this, Jeongguk stands, facing her, "Look, noona, if you would have answered your phone, we never would have shown up there with—"
"Sit down," Ryujin snaps, turning a playful but intense glare on Jeongguk, whose mouth snaps shut as he takes his seat. Beside him, Taehyung snickers. "I didn't answer my phone because I wanted to converse with her before making any choices, and you idiots acted irrationally."
At the word her, Ryujin lifts her hand and gestures to you, momentarily pulling your gaze. Although you do not glance around, you are certain that all heads turn to look your way, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat while you begin watching droplets of condensation streak your water glass.  
"Pardon us for being concerned," Yoongi responds, voice tense and pained. 
This seems to quell whatever emotion that has Ryujin acting defensive, and she slowly takes her seat and reaches for the bottle of kaoliang. All seem to be waiting for her response, and she takes her time lifting her glass to her lips and sitting back in her chair. 
"Nobody faults you for being concerned, oppa. But you need to be more considerate of the reason she has come to me in the first place."
Yoongi must open his mouth to speak once more because Ryujin lifts her hand to stop him before she continues. 
"Yes, I know that you are concerned for her safety, especially in the wake of some mysterious man from her past showing up out of nowhere. But she was already planning on leaving for mental health reasons. So maybe storming in with chopsticks blazing is not the wisest way to reunite with someone who is already shell-shocked from all the other bullshit she has had to witness."
"Some of the bullshit was at the hands of your people," Namjoon interjects. 
Ryujin levels her gaze on him. "The most heinous bullshit, I would imagine. And as you can see, Hyungseo is not present. I am dealing with her, and Seokjin, Yoongi, and I have already discussed ways I can help with harm reduction."
Your gaze moves to the right, to Jimin, and you are surprised to find he is already looking at you. You smile, unable to stop the tears that form from how relieved you are that he is alright. 
"I know that trust has been tarnished between our families, and that myself and my girls have taken things too far," Ryujin admits. "I sent my people out to scare you, and they did so much more than that. I will never stop feeling sorry for what has happened. Not a night has gone by that I have not been filled with regret over someone so precious to all of us becoming seriously injured."
Ryujin lifts an arm, reaches over Hwasa, and holds out her hand to Jimin. He takes it without hesitation. 
"He could have died," Jeongguk says, brows knit in a frown. 
Ryujin sighs. "I know this, Ggukie. And I am so, so sorry. I am determined to quash any bad blood and begin earning your respect. Tomorrow we leave for Busan. Once we are all back home, Serendipity will be opened for a night of drinking, drugs…whatever you heathens do."
To your surprise, many of the men snicker, amused. 
"Seokjin and Hoseok already have a security team on standby so that you are not only relying on my people to keep you safe," Ryujin continues. "The era of family feuding is over. I am happy with my little piece of the peninsula, and I want drug operations to continue in a way that is lucrative for both of us. We will remain your first line of defense in the harbor, and in return, all that I ask is that we get free reign in Seoul to come and go."
Yoongi clears his throat. "If Sunmi-noona will accept the offer, she can be your liaison in the city once more."
At this, a mischievous smirk tugs on Ryujin's lips. She gives Jimin's hand a squeeze before releasing it, then raises both elbows to the table to cradle her chin in her hands. "Tell me, oppa. Why does Sunmi-unnie spit at my feet whenever I mention your name?"
Yoongi says nothing. 
Rather than press him, she winks, then reaches for a large metal spoon and begins to fill her dish. Everyone hesitates, and it is Jeongguk who breaks the tension and follows suit, scooping food onto Taehyung's plate and causing the others to act in kind. You sit still, unsure whether you have an appetite. 
"Darling?" Yoongi asks at the same time two fingers gently caress the back of your arm. 
Your evening gown is a form-hugging halter top with a low back, leaving your skin open to soft, delicate assaults like the ones Yoongi likes to conduct in gentle motions. You flinch but try not to pull your arm away, worried about hurting his feelings.
Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"
You shake your head but mutter, "I don't know."
"Should I have sat elsewhere?" he asks. He shifts as if he is looking over and around you, and you imagine he is speaking nonverbally to Namjoon. 
The room is too bright, the food and cologne smells are too numerous, and the sounds of voices and silverware and porcelain are too loud. You raise your shoulders to your ears, then turn toward Yoongi, still unable to meet his eye as you ask, "Can we talk somewhere else?"
Yoongi stands, says, "Excuse us for just a moment," and waits for you. 
As you stand, you catch Ryujin's eye. She appears concerned and places her palms on the table as if ready to stand and defend you. 
You nod and say, "We'll be right back," and watch as she relaxes. 
A warm palm presses against your lower back, and Yoongi guides you toward the door, out into a small hallway, and to the left. The restaurant's main dining hall is to the right, and you are thankful to walk in the opposite direction, not sure whether you can handle another person's eyes on you. 
Yoongi walks into an empty private dining room, switches on the light, and holds out his arm for you to enter. As you step inside, you hear him conversing softly with who you assume to be an employee, and then he joins you, closing the door behind him.
As you stand and face the large, empty dining room, you expect Yoongi to touch you or prod you into speaking. Perhaps you expect him to beg you to return home. Instead, he seems to be waiting.
After only a handful of seconds, you decide you cannot take it anymore. Every ounce of you yearns for Yoongi, and knowing he is so close and being so patient has you reeling. You turn and quickly step toward him, reaching for his lapels and burying your face against his chest. He smells like home, and as he wraps his arms around you, warmth fills your chest, and you begin to cry.
"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm sorry I had to leave. I miss you, Yoongi, but I can't stand being there. I can't do it."
"Shh," Yoongi whispers, lips pressing to your temple, causing you to cry harder. It has only been a week, and yet you feel as if you have been away from him for so long. 
"I'm sorry we keep creating distance. I don't know how to make it work out. I'm so scared, Yoongi." You are fumbling, mouth on autopilot, dredging up each time you and Yoongi were apart, feeling somehow responsible for everything despite knowing you have always only done your best. 
"Yesterday was a mistake," Yoongi says, peppering kisses from the crown of your hair to your cheek and back up. "I was terrified and not in my right mind. You left in a frenzy, and then there was that letter, and it all been very confusing—"
You sniffle loudly, letting out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. "Oh my god, the letter. I'm so sorry."
Yoongi chuckles, gently grabs your shoulders, and pries you away from his chest. You allow him to move you, and you stand straight but keep your eyes on his black satin shirt. You do not want to see his scar or the pretty way in which his eyes downturn when he is sad. 
His voice is soft and conspiratorial as he says, "I almost killed Seokjin after I found it."
With wide, surprised eyes, you look up, unable to hold back any longer. Yoongi's smile is loving and big, and his eyes sparkle with happiness, making your stomach roil with uncertainty. His scar is still so red against his soft skin, but it adds so much to his allure and beauty.
"I was under the impression you were running away with Barom, what with the timing of it all. You packed a bag, left behind all of our gifts, and disappeared into the night the moment he arrived."
Despite Yoongi's high spirits, you shake your head somewhat desperately. "I wrote it earlier that day, thinking I might run away a night or two later. I was scared that if I said goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave." Tears build once more, and your body goes limp, hanging against the weight of Yoongi's hands. "Yoongi, I'm so—"
"Alright, no more sorries," Yoongi says, pressing against your shoulders enough to signal that he would like you to stand up and get your shit together. "Seokjin explained your conversations and motives to us already, and I have long since forgiven the both of you. I understand why you felt you had to sneak away. Remember when I went missing in Hong Kong? I was also in the midst of a mental health crisis, darling. I have no hard feelings."
You straighten out and search Yoongi's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, but all you find is a soft, loving gaze looking back at you. With a relieved sigh, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your cheek against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. 
"I love you," you say, feeling the words fill you with warmth. 
Yoongi drapes one arm over your shoulders and rests his other hand against the back of your head. "I love you, too," he says. "And if you need time and space, I will give it to you. Despite everything, I trust the girls to take good care of you."
"Is it weird?" you ask, pulling out of the hug and stepping back only far enough to see Yoongi's face. His only response is to raise one eyebrow. "Being around her again, I mean. Was she always so bossy?"
Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose it is a little weird, but we were friends first and foremost, and being friendly with her again feels easy. She has not always been that bossy, per se, but she has always been strong-willed enough to face all seven of us down the way she did tonight."
This makes you laugh, and you lean into Yoongi once more, tilting your head to press your lips to his throat, just under his chin. 
"Thank you," you say. Yoongi hums, and you add, "For giving me time and space. For being understanding. That night was a fucking mess, and I have been really scared for what the aftermath may look like."
"No hard feelings," Yoongi repeats. "As long as you are happy."
All at once, you are flooded with myriad thoughts. Are you happy? This last week, while being more or less calm on your nerves, has also been lonely and strange. Would you feel better if you cut your losses and went back home to your men, where everything felt familiar again? Could you cycle through medications until finding the magical cocktail that would allow you to be whole again?
No, you think. Probably not. 
"Are you sure?" you ask, voice soft and uncertain. "I don't know how long I might need. I can't promise—"
Yoongi kisses your forehead, pressing his lips slowly as he hums. He says, "I'm sure. We can figure it out one day at a time."
With everything out in the open, your stomach pangs with hunger. You smile and ask, "Can we go eat now?" and you are delighted when Yoongi smiles with relief and says, "Yes, of course."
With his thumbs, Yoongi rubs below your eyes. His hands linger on your cheeks, and you expect him to lean forward and kiss you, but he drops his hands a beat later, then grabs onto one of yours and asks, "Shall we?"
Yoongi leads the two of you back to the dining room, and as you enter, you are pleased to find the entire table has erupted into pleasant conversation. Jeongguk's arm is draped over Ryujin's chair while Hwasa emphatically tells them a story, and Jimin is leaning close, listening with his chin propped onto his hands. 
Taehyung is explaining something while glancing between Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok, and as you and Yoongi round the table and return, nobody acknowledges the two of you until you take a seat and Namjoon—eyes still on Taehyung—gently places a hand on your knee. 
It is only when you begin to reach for half-empty bowls of food that Namjoon takes your plate in his hand that you realize how long it has been since the two of you have spoken. You are once again overwhelmed with emotion and fight the urge to say sorry a hundred more times. 
Instead, he points with a large metal spoon and says, "Both of these dishes have a tangy garlic sauce, but this one is a bit more spicy."
"I'd like to try both," you say, watching as Namjoon spoons a heap of chicken with vegetables onto your dish, followed by a heap of tofu and peanuts with vegetables in a slightly redder sauce full of chopped red peppers. 
As Namjoon sets your plate in front of you, you reach with your long metal chopsticks with the intent to gather some noodles from a dish that is across from Yoongi, out of Namjoon's reach. However, Yoongi takes the dish and begins to scoop some onto a smaller plate for you, and you sit back with a smile and wait for him to finish. 
"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.
You know in an instant that he is referring to the dream that you wrote about in your letter, and you feel silly as you bite your bottom lip and nod. 
"That has to be really stressful," he says, reaching for a pitcher of water to fill his empty glass. 
You smile sadly, imagining his white shirt filling with blood. It is stressful, but— "On the plus side, I get to see you."
As you lift your gaze to meet Namjoon's, his furrowed brow and wilted frown gently lift, not quite into a smile, but at least something a bit more relaxed. 
"Hi," you say softly, taking in Namjoon's familiar, beautiful face.
His smile widens, creasing his cheeks with dimples. He mutters, "Hey, you," and the soft, dulcet tone of his voice fills your chest with warmth. 
You open your mouth to tell him that you love him. That you miss him. That you're sorry for leaving. So, so sorry. 
But Ryujin loudly asks, "Caviar?" pulling the attention of everyone at the table. 
Behind her, waitstaff hold new plates, and everyone nods in agreement before continuing their conversations. And although you could pour your heart out now, Hoseok steals Namjoon's attention away, and you decide the moment has passed.
Food and drink continue to appear in waves, and suddenly, you are tipsy and full and tired. Namjoon stands to walk around the table and have a quiet conversation with Ryujin, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to steal his seat. He and Jeongguk discuss business operations at Paradise while you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes listening to the sound of his voice. He is alive. He is awake. 
He speaks slower, and there is a rough quality to his voice that was not present before. It seems to take him more time to process what is said to him, and he reacts as if on a delay. But he is here and alive and awake. 
Only when more kaoliang is poured, and Ryujin raises a toast do you sit up and take your cup. You barely hear what she shouts, booze and excitement slurring her speech, but you make out the words together, family, and happy, and you tap your small glass against as many as you can reach before shooting the strong liquid down.
A large, warm hand rests on your right knee, and as you set down your empty glass, you turn to find Yoongi watching you, glassy-eyed with a smile on his lips. You attempt to smile back but instead, swallow thickly and search for something to say. Luckily, he speaks first.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it has been without you at home?” Yoongi’s gaze becomes pained but remains soft, tugging at your heart. 
And although the sentiment is sweet, you are unable to ignore the impossibility of his question. In fact, for some inexplicable reason—you suppose you must blame the alcohol—you become somewhat annoyed.
You ask, “How could I possibly know that? And anyway, don't you have your hands full as it is?”
Across the table, Jeongguk snickers. It takes Yoongi a second to react, and you are glad when the corners of his lips raise into another smile, even if just for a second. 
“Being around those girls has made you sassier than you were before, darling,” he mutters under his breath. 
You roll your eyes. “It has only been a week, darling.”
Leaning close, elbows on the table, Yoongi lowers his voice and says, “It only took me about a week to begin wearing you down.”
Arousal stirs from the tone of his voice, but so does your stomach. Being kidnapped and worn down is not exactly a topic that you delight in discussing. You must not show your dissatisfaction, however, because Yoongi leans in close and presses a soft, warm kiss against your cheek. 
As the raucous dinner comes to an end and you begin to wish everyone a safe trip home, Jeongguk finally approaches. You have been holding back the urge to kick him in the shin all night, feeling somewhat scorned by his lack of attention. 
"So you're going to stay with the girls?" he asks, standing close enough to wrap you in an embrace but keeping his arms to his sides.
You nod and find it hard to hold his eye contact, looking down at his satin-clad shoulder instead. Jeongguk lifts a hand and delicately places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head until you look him in the eyes. The contact of his skin against yours sends an electric current through you, and you shiver. 
"Call me if you need anything. I can be to Busan in a matter of hours."
Sheepishly, you glance down again and mutter, "I don't have anyone's number anymore."
Jeongguk drops his hand, turns to the left, and says, "Seokjin-hyung! What the fuck, man?"
Arguing ensues, but you are too distracted by Namjoon wrapping his arms around your side and pressing his lips to your neck. Suddenly, your bones are jelly, and you stumble to the right, leaning your weight against his embrace. Yoongi joins, taking your chin in his hand in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, and tilting your lips against his. 
"We'll be ready whenever you are," Namjoon insists, lips grazing over your skin. "Whatever you need…please don't shut us out."
Somewhere behind Namjoon, Seokjin shouts, "Yah! I'll upload everyone to her contact list. Quit fussing!"
"Okay," you mutter while smiling against Yoongi's retreating mouth, unable to find anything more substantial to say despite it all lying in wait at the tip of your tongue all night. 
"We miss you," Yoongi says, pressing another kiss against your temple. "But we can wait if that is what you need."
Tears well and you fight the urge to sob. Not here, you tell yourself. Not now. You have already cried so much.
You hug everyone, even Seokjin and Hoseok. Jeongguk attempts to play it cool, but he stares at your lips the entire time, and you practically beg him to kiss you before ultimately letting him walk away. Jimin litters your cheeks and temples with loud, wet smooches, causing you to giggle and shriek. 
Taehyung asks about your medication, making your heart ache from his kindness. You briefly inform him that you have been having no dizzy spells, and he promises to send you more medication as soon as you are in Busan. 
Finally, Namjoon and Yoongi pull you into another three-way hug and take turns kissing your lips, cheeks, and forehead. They mutter soft, sweet phrases that you only make out the tones of, feeling the whooshing of your pulse as you begin to question whether you are making a huge mistake and should just grab your shit and go home. 
And then, all waving and clambering out the door haphazardly, they are gone, and the room is quiet. 
You sigh and glance around at the dregs of food and alcohol, feeling simultaneously full and empty in more ways than one. Tears fill the edges of your eyes, and you do your best not to blink, worried that any movement will cause them to spill. 
Ryujin sighs loudly. "Alright, well, this was fun and all, but I want to get fucking laid. You girls down for a night on the town?"
You glance down at your outfit, ready to complain, only you look good enough to go to a nightclub and find you have nothing to say to the contrary. You even wear a pair of cozy black ballet slippers, which you slid on while feeling unsure whether you could handle so many tumultuous emotions while wearing heels, and for that, you are grateful. 
"Sure," you utter while turning to Hwasa, who has a drunk but devious grin tugging on her lips. Her smile widens and she claps excitedly.
The drive to the nightclub is long, and you are exhausted by the time you arrive, having been fading in and out of a stupor. You feel more drunk than you had earlier, and you are tempted to suggest taking a cab back to the hideout alone. Of course, that would never fly. You can already hear Ryujin singing buddy system in your head.
Hwasa eagerly pulls you from the back of the car and chuckles as she rubs her fingertips along the edge of your hairline and says, "Poor sleeping beauty. We'll get you something that will wake you up, okay?"
You respond with a halfhearted smile and nod, and she takes your hand in hers and yanks you to the door, not bothering to stop for the security guard who, to your surprise, makes no move to stop you either. Inside, loud bass-heavy club music plays, and you are led through a series of hallways until you enter a large room full of the rest of Ryujin's girls and a group of men. 
The room is dark and somewhat hazy, lit by strips of purple lights along the ceiling and floor. Short two or three-person sofas line the mirrored walls and are dispersed throughout the space, most of which are occupied. On tables set beside each sofa are bottles of champagne and piles of cocaine, with glasses large and small scattered throughout and topped with small lamps that emit very little light.
Ryujin approaches a man sitting amidst the chaos by himself, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, thumbing through his cell phone. You are curious whether these men are people she knows, and you watch to see how familiar she is with the lone man, but Hwasa steps in your line of vision and takes your chin in both of her hands. 
"Coke?" she asks. 
You want to say no, proud of yourself for being off the shit for as long as you have been away from home. But you are certain that without it, you will not survive this night, so you nod and allow yourself to be tugged further into the room, to an unoccupied table. 
"Don't worry, this is from our stash," Hwasa says as she picks up a discarded rolled-up 100-dollar Taiwanese bill and tightens it between her finger and thumb. "Moon and Solar were in charge of overseeing the distribution process."
You mutter, "How generous," doing your best to smile, and watch as Hwasa snorts a small pile into one nostril and then the other. When she hands the bill to you, you take in a deep, slow breath, and let it out, then lean forward to snort from the edge of the pile first into your left nostril and then your right.
As you let the bill fall to the table and tip your head back, sniffing in again on each side, you ask, "Does Ryujin know these men?"
"Mmhmm," Hwasa hums as she fills two glasses with champagne and hands one to you. "A few of these guys worked at Paradise while I was there, and some of them are from Serendipity. Maybe you know them."
"Oh," you say, pulling the glass to your lips but stopping to ask, "How did they end up here?"
Hwasa purses her lips and tilts her head, making a show of how hard she is trying to conjure the answer to your question. Then her eyes widen and she says, "Oh! Some guy started to come around to Serendipity and just sort of gathered the rest of these guys up as, like, a posse. I don't really know what they do, to be honest, but they always dress up in matching suits and cover their faces, which is creepy as hell."
Your stomach tenses, and you feel too anxious to turn your head to the left and figure out who Ryujin is talking to. Although you know that there is absolutely no way in hell it is Christian, something about the description of the men reminds you of his men, and you begin to wonder whether there really was credence to Yoongi's worry surrounding the possibility of Christian being on this island.
"What's his name?" you ask, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. 
"Hmm?" Hwasa asks into her champagne glass as she leans closer. 
You begin to glance over to where Ryujin and the man are, but your heart pounds so hard, you worry you might be sick if you see him. 
"The man who gathered all the guys, from Serendipity, " you say, leaning closer. 
"What's his name?"
"Oh," Hwasa says, taking a slow slip of her champagne while her wide, dark eyes stare past you. She blinks owlishly, then pulls the glass from her lips and says, "He has a nickname…Insanity? Something like that."
Unable to stop yourself, your head flies to the left, searching the features of the man whose lap Ryujin has claimed with her legs. His nose is sharp and somewhat hooked, and it is not a familiar shape. Worried, you glance around the room, but there is no sign of Christian, as far as you can tell. 
"Something the matter?" Hwasa asks, touching fingertips to your arm and making you nearly drop your glass of champagne. 
You must look frantic when you turn back to her, based on the fear that pulls at her pretty features. You blink and wet your lips, shaking your head. Unconvincingly, judging by the way her brows knit and she continues to stare at you. 
"I just..." you swallow thickly and glance around the room once more, slowly scanning every face you can see. "I just thought he sounded familiar."
Hwasa makes a small sound, and you scan several more faces before returning your gaze to her and asking, "Huh?"
"It's just," she says, uncertain, "well, I heard he was previously working on Jeongguk's team, back when he was a drug runner. So…maybe he is familiar?"
Something is not adding up. Although Seokjin mentioned that he has kept Christian around to do whatever he pleases, it seems odd that he would be known to these women as someone who was once part of Jeongguk's team. As you recall from the day you were taken to the mansion, he did not seem to perform his drug-running duties to Yoongi's liking. Did Seokjin keep him on Jeongguk's team even after that day? Could he have had something to do with the group of men Jeongguk massacred with kunai knives for fucking him over?
You stare at your glass of champagne trying to make all the pieces fit, but it feels like you are missing a huge chunk of information. 
Hands touch your shoulders, causing you to jump. You mutter, "Shit," under your breath at the same time Ryujin's high, somewhat mocking laughter fills your left ear. 
"So sorry to scare you, pretty darling," she slurs, sounding quite inebriated. 
"Don't worry about it," you say, attempting to loosen your posture. Ryujin's hands remain on your shoulders and you do not want her to feel how tense you are. But then she squeezes your shoulders and you close your eyes, this time succeeding in relaxing. 
"How do you feel after such an emotional dinner?"
"Good," you respond while her thumbs circle over your muscles. You wonder whether she is the reason Hwasa always gives massages. Or perhaps it is the other way around. "And, I don't know. I guess also conflicted. Homesick."
Ryujin's hands fall away and she rests her chin on your left shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around yours and pinning yours to your sides. Hwasa busies herself pouring a third glass of champagne. 
"You really like them, hmm?" Ryujin asks. 
"Yeah," you say, possibly too quiet for how loud the music in this room is. "Most of them, anyway."
The last part is a joke. You like Seokjin and Hoseok just fine, but you are certainly not as close to them as you are to the others. Taehyung, too, for that matter, although he has had the pleasure of watching his boyfriend rail you, which has formed its own kind of bond between the two of you. 
"What is your relationship with the guys?" she asks. 
Hwasa hands her a glass, and she releases her hold on you and takes it, muttering a soft, "Thank you." 
You turn to face Ryujin. Although you still hesitate to become too close to her, you do feel comfortable in her presence, all things considered. If Yoongi is willing to trust her again, then perhaps you should be, too. 
"Yoongi, Namjoon, and I are a thing." After a pause, you add, "And…sort of Jeongguk."
Ryujin's mouth falls open and she gasps. "I need to know more!"
You feel your cheeks become hot, and you pick up your glass of champagne, which Hwasa has filled. But rather than explain, you ask something that has been on your mind for a while.
"Before, when you and Yoongi were together, was Namjoon…" Unsure how to finish the sentence, you trail off. Luckily, Ryujin knows just what you mean. 
She nods. "Yes. Romantically, those two have always been the closest. Namjoon and I were never super physical. We were just very, very comfortable around one another because of Yoongi."
Interesting. You suppose this makes sense, remembering a conversation between you and Jimin a while back when he told you about how marrying Ryujin was a means to an end more than anything else. 
"Yoongi and I were meant to bring two families together. And, don't get me wrong, we were physically and emotionally attracted to one another. But we also had more fulfilling relationships on the side. For Yoongi, it was Namjoon."
"And for you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. 
Ryujin smiles wide, but then it falls to a frown. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Nobody you know."
You nod and accept her answer. You suppose that perhaps the two of you are not that close, yet. In tandem, you and Ryujin raise your glasses to drink. But then she yells, "Oh!" and you startle enough to nearly spill your champagne onto yourself. "Jeongguk, though! What happened with him?"
You tip your head back and chug the rest of your bubbly. It is truly miserable to drink quickly, and you instantly regret your decision, feeling the carbonation sloshing around in your guts. 
"We, uh…" you begin, feeling shy. Why do you feel shy?
"You should see those two," Hwasa interjects, causing your face to heat even more. "They bicker like children but then circle one another like feral animals. I can only imagine their chemistry behind closed doors."
Affronted, your mouth falls wide. "We what? No we do not!"
Hwasa nods, grinning. "Yes, you do! I thought the two of you were fucking for sure when I first started working for Jimin. I was shocked to learn Jeongguk was with Taehyung and you were with Yoongi."
"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 
Hwasa's grin widens. 
You raise your hands to your face as if to hide. This day has been exhausting, and these two are giggling at your expense like a couple of school girls. 
"Oh, stop," Hwasa says as one of your hands is tugged down from your face. You open just the one eye, keeping the other closed tight behind your palm. "Everyone wants a piece of your ass. Don't be shy about it! Embrace it."
With a sigh, you shake your head. "Not everyone," you groan, feeling defensive.
"Everyone with eyes," Ryujin says, waggling her eyebrows while Hwasa makes kissy noises. "I would shoot my shot if you weren't already so taken."
Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"
Suddenly, it is too warm and too loud in here. "I need a stronger drink!" you declare, making both women laugh. 
You take a step back and turn, moving in autopilot toward the door before realizing you have no idea where you are nor where a bar in this building is. 
Ryujin takes your right hand and yanks you gently back, sing-songing, "Ah, ah, ah, not by yourself."
"Alright," you concede, interlocking your fingers with hers. As you begin to walk toward the exit, your left hand is engulfed and you glance to find Hwasa is coming along. 
You exit the mirrored room and turn right, taking a dark hallway about halfway and then turning right once more, through a thick black curtain that is guarded by two men on the other side. There is a bar directly to the right, and Ryujin tugs you to the counter and orders a bottle of whiskey that you do not catch the name of. 
With a nod, the bartender grabs an unopened bottle from a high shelf and then delicately stacks three medium-sized glasses. Hwasa takes the glasses, Ryujin takes the whiskey, and your hands remain held by both of theirs. 
Back in the mirrored room, you return to the table off to the right, toward the back. The girls release your hands to pour three drinks, and you fidget by pinching the satin of your skirt between your thumbs and knuckles, suddenly feeling antsy. 
"Cheers," Ryujin declares as she slides a drink in front of you. You take it, hold it up, and tap it against their glasses, then pull it to your lips and smell the strong, bittersweet liquid before taking a sip. 
The potent, boozy caramel flavor that you have come to expect is accented by a hint of something earthy, possibly wood. You take a bigger drink, hold it on your tongue, allowing your taste buds to open and fully experience the onslaught as they adjust, and then you swallow it down. 
"Tomorrow, we return to Busan," Ryujin says for the second time tonight as the whiskey flows down into your chest, filling you with warmth. You look forward to being at a proper home rather than on some random floor in a balmy, empty building. 
"I'm looking forward to seeing your home," you say, sounding far more meek than you intend to.
"I'm looking forward to hosting you."
Hwasa leans her elbows on the table and says, "You finally get to have your own room. That is, of course, unless you want to stay with me."
The playful smile on Hwasa's face, paired with her tired and intoxicated bloodshot eyes is almost enough to make you melt. Almost enough to make you follow her into any room she wants to lead you into. 
When you shrug and say, "Honestly, I may be too lonely to sleep alone," you are being brutally honest, and not all all flirtatious. 
"I can even decorate it like your room in the mansion," Ryujin says. "Is it still yellow?"
Her words halt your movement of lifting your glass back to your lips. "How did you know that?"
Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, "Please, nothing about that man has changed, down to the way he likes to outfit you. It's exactly as it was seven years ago."
Bile swirls around in your tummy, and you set the glass down on the mirrored table with a clank that is louder than you intend. Could that be true? Is Yoongi really outfitting you in the same fashion he was outfitting her all those years ago. 
Hwasa clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swats at Ryujin's arm, muttering, "Mother, don't say things like that to her," under her breath. 
You shake your head, determined to not show how strange the information makes you feel. But Ryujin turns, pouts dramatically, and wraps her arms around you. 
"Oh, sweetie, I don't mean to suggest he was trying to turn you into a second me. He just seems to have the same tastes and fashion sense, is all. Trust me, he loves you way more than he could ever love me. I can tell."
You have no idea whether Ryujin is being truthful or trying to make you feel better, but you decide that either way, you see no use in dwelling on it. You are going to be living under her roof for the foreseeable future, and becoming upset whenever she says something a little too blunt, snippy, or insensitive is not going to get you anywhere. 
With a nod, you say, "I know. Don't worry." But it only makes her squeeze you tighter. 
"Just look at his bullshit excuse for taking you home with him," she says. "Collateral, my ass."
What an odd statement. You ask, "What do you mean?" But what you really mean to say is what do you know?
"The man takes you as so-called payment from your ex but then spends millions of dollars on a wardrobe, an armored vehicle, the most lavish birthday party in all of Seoul. Make it fucking make sense!"
Ryujin releases the hug, and as soon as you are free, you slam back your whiskey and pick up the 100-dollar bill, squeezing it tighter into a tube. Ryujin whoops and claps as you lean close and snort from the edge of the cocaine pile into your left nostril and then your right. 
"Mommy needs some, too," she says as she takes the bill from your hand and leans forward. 
You tip your head back and raise a knuckle to each nostril, sniffing deeply to make sure none of the drug is stuck inside your nose cavity, then you stand up straight, stretching your back by pushing forward your chest, and reach for the bottle of whiskey. 
"Partying so hard without me?" a male voice asks from behind you, and you nearly drop the bottle. 
The tone, the accent, and the cadence all confirm your fears are true.
"Christian?" you mutter as you spin, and you almost do not believe your eyes. 
From the expression he wears and the way his gaze falls to the floor, eyes widening as they lift to your face, you wager he also cannot believe his. 
Christian steps forward and you take a step back, elbow hitting the table and causing you to grip tighter to the bottle of whiskey. 
"Barom-oppa!" Ryujin shouts as she pounces on Christian, wrapping her arms around his neck. 
"Hey there, dearie," he says, lifting his arms to return the hug, never taking his eyes off you. 
Christian looks somewhat normal compared to the last time you saw him, with a white and red floral button-up tucked into black slacks, and a black leather blazer. His hair has some product in it to give it a slightly messy style, falling in front of his eyes, and he wears minimal makeup. 
But there is a darkness to him. Smudges around the eyes rather than clean lines, tattoos on his throat and neck. On his left hand, he wears a black leather driving glove, and across his nose is a red scuff, as if he has been punched. Under the rich musk that fills the air around him, you sense the stale smell of cigarette smoke, and he has silver hoops in his ears and one in his left nostril. 
A lot has changed about Christian in the months since you have known him. 
Ryujin releases their hug and takes a step back, causing Christian to look down at himself and rub his hands down the front of his jacket as if her tiny body could have somehow managed to do anything to the leather. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head to the side just enough for his hair to move out from in front of his eyes, and you realize that his left eye is completely white. Is it…missing? 
"Oh my god, your eye!" you shout, lunging forward before you can stop yourself and raising your left hand toward his face while your right hand nearly drops the whiskey bottle once more. 
Christian takes your wrist in his gloved hand and holds firmly onto you, and your entire body flushes hot with nerves as you realize the mistake you have made. The way his gaze holds onto you, even with only one dark iris and pupil, is piercing and intense, and you attempt futility to pull your hand away. 
"Funny story how I lost that," he says, expression pulling into a strange, sad grin. He leans close, nicotine on his breath as he says, "I'll have to tell you some time."
You pull on your arm, desperate to release it, but his grip is far stronger than you remember. Should you be afraid of this man?
"Christian," you begin, glancing from your hand to his face. 
"Perhaps over drinks, some time," he continues. "Just the two of us."
You nod, willing to lie to him if it means letting you go. Panic rises as you continue to take stock of how different he is from the man you used to know. 
Ryujin takes the whiskey from your hand, sets it on the table, and then grabs his hand in both of hers as she says, "Alright, that is enough of that. I need you two to play nice."
The room returns to view, and you remember why you are here and who you are with. You realize belatedly that these two not only know each other but that they are friendly with one another. 
"Wait," you say, turning to Ryujin, "you told Yoongi—"
"Look, I lied to him," she says, cutting you off. 
Your mouth falls open and your pulse whooshes in your ears. "You…but…" Could she possibly know what she has done by bringing the two of you together? "Why?"
Ryujin chuckles and steps close to Christian, placing her dainty, manicured hands over his chest. "Oppa is harmless. You know that! And Yoongi…well, he's paranoid. Trust me, darling. Nothing bad will happen to you."
You are not so sure you are convinced, but you know that freaking out will do nobody any good. Especially when you are so far away from home. You are not eager to show any more weakness to any of these people. Especially the one they call Mister Insanity. 
Someone shouts for Christian, using the name Barom, and you turn quickly back to the table. Your glass contains more whiskey, courtesy of one of the women, you assume, and you pick up the glass with shaking hands and slam it down, then reach for the bottle again. 
Intoxication roils through you in hot waves, and you squeeze your eyes closed to take a deep breath in and out before shooting more whiskey. A small hand touches your lower back, and you wish you were curled up in a bed all by yourself, far away from these people and this music. You are tired of being touched.
"I know it's weird to see an ex," Ryujin says. "Sorry for surprising you like this. He told me he wouldn't be around tonight."
"How did he lose his eye?" you ask, focused on the wrong thing as you turn to face Ryujin. You tremble so hard that your teeth clatter. 
Her smile falls to a frown and she shakes her head. "That isn't my story to tell."
You nod, accepting her answer, and turn to Hwasa, who watches you with a concerned expression. You mouth the word, "Bathroom?" and she nods and rounds the table, taking you by the arm. 
"Down the hall to the left," Ryujin says. 
As you walk through the room, you squint, attempting to ignore all the movement in the mirrors in your periphery. It's too much. Everything is too much. 
The darkness of the hallway is a blessing and a curse, relieving you from the chaos of the private room while introducing challenges of its own; it is almost too dark and somewhat claustrophobic. 
You stumble and Hwasa's hold on you tightens. She picks up the pace and leads you straight into a single-stall bathroom, then turns on a light that is thankfully relatively dim. The moment she closes and locks the door, you stumble forward, fall to your knees on the rough tile before the toilet, and vomit the contents of your stomach. 
Your mind races with myriad thoughts, but one is the loudest of them all: What the fuck is Christian doing here?
*
Oh, oh, I broke down all my doors Oh, do you see it now? Nothing was fixed at all
I never asked to be like this
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hello, hello!!! we meet again!!! i hope you have all been having great middle of the year months! things have been ok for me but i have been reading a lot more than i have been writing. how did you feel about this one??? it is a little slower, as it is setting the stage for the final chapters. any guess how things are going to go? how do we feel about the new (and returned) characters??? it felt really nice to writing Jimin into the scene again. 💜 i'll be honest, describing Ryujin & the Mamamoo girls laying on the rugs and blankets made me think of Quanxi and her harem of fiends from Chainsaw Man.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)
i love you, stay hydrated!!! if you are somewhere with a heatwave, stay cool!!! 😘😘😘 until we meet again!!!
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tanuki-kimono · 11 months ago
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Modern printed obi by Gofukuya, with a dragon pattern inspired by sukajan embroidered designs.
Sukajan - or souvenir jackets - appeared after WWII when parachutes were used to tailor bomber jacket american soldiers brought back in the US. First mainly decorated with military motifs, they started to be embroidered with Japanese patterns. In the 60′s, sukajan were worn by bad boys but in the past decades, they've made a come back into mainstream fashion.
The listing also have a pic of the whole obi, might be of interest if you'd like to see how patterns are set on an obi lenght. Top of the pic is the te (part folded and wrapped around the torse), bottom is the tare (part used to make the back knot):
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