#leverage bts

[asphyxiatedredherring]

They're a family, and they love each other your honor

[daniwib]

[phantomstatistician]

Tag: OT3

Sample Size: 2,464 stories

Source: AO3

[leveragecentral]

Gina Bellman: Our producer Brandon has a new chair! 😂[x]

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BTW BPP, what did you think of those HYBE internal documents AKA the HYBE Burn Book? I get market research but some of what was in there seemed to go way beyond that. They talked about idols in such a dehumanizing way and some of the included info didn't even seem particularly relevant.

I could never figure out entirely what I thought of it because you had 95% of ARMYs wanting to brush it off as simple market research and then on the opposite end kpop stans who wanted to use it to paint HYBE as the worst, most evil, immoral company to ever exist that sabotaged every other artist, caused the downfall of xyz group and used fraud tactics for all of their own artists whose achievements were now invalid.

Allegedly it was the weverse magazine former editor-in-chief who was compiling and putting all of this together too? Which makes me think back on a lot of the criticism for that magazine that has already been discussed. I'm not exactly sure how involved that person was with some of those articles though.

On another note, I was pretty uncomfortable seeing them mention PJMs causing ARMYs to resent Jimin. It was something I watched happen in real time but it was something else to see the company directly take note of it. I'm curious how exactly they were planning on dealing with that too... The parts on Jungkook were also really weird, but I think they were parroting what antis said about him and disagreeing with it, but the whole thing got really tangled up with all the various interpretations and translations and I just gave up on following it.

I just hope the BTS members are watching all this dirt on HYBE being leaked and taking it into consideration when deciding on who they trust and how they want to operate going forward. But I’m sure they already know all that way better than I do. While I'm on that, I hope that at least Namjoon read that whole New Yorker article where BangPD called himself the king of kpop 🙄 it felt pretty disrespectful to BTS in parts ngl, but I know they know BangPD way better than I do so I'm not trying to jump too hard onto the solo/manti hate train for him even if I'm definitely not a fan of him or the people he keeps around at all (I'm still not a fan of MHJ either but I can really sympathize when I think about the kind of men who seem to run so much of HYBE and how they seem to really be holding that company back).

Anyways sorry about the rambling, I was just curious if you had any thoughts or random takeaways from those internal documents.

***

(I ramble.)

Min Heejin had talked about those internal documents since her first whistleblower complaint against HYBE in March 2024. It was one of several issues she found problematic about HYBE's senior management that made her want even more independence from Bang Sihyuk's influence within the company, and like I've said before, I came to be sympathetic towards MHJ after reading her initial whistleblower report.

The existence of those documents have been public since April 2024 and known to anybody actually listening to Min Heejin and/or who understands Korean. The fact it was only after the National Assembly mentioned those reports and excerpts were released, that most other k-pop fandoms became aware of it, shows just how poorly international fans are following this dispute and also how tightly HYBE stans mostly control the narrative around NewJeans and MHJ in international fandom spaces.

You're right that the reactions to those reports both for and against HYBE were predictably extreme, but the fact is those documents are, plainly speaking, bad news. There's market research and then there's whatever the fuck those reports are - because while all k-pop agencies seem to monitor fan chatter around their groups, the HYBE reports show the extent to which HYBE in particular runs more like a well-capitalized psych-op machine, regularly making infinitesimal tweaks to reverse-engineer heightened emotional responses in the fandoms they have access to.

It was Kang Myeong-seok (Weverse's former EIC) who was the fall-guy after the backlash, but the reality is those documents reflect Bang Sihyuk's personal approach to fandom/group management more than anything else. This shouldn't be news because if you've been paying attention, you'd notice he's always put a priority on tapping fandom sentiment with impressive proficiency, since long before HYBE existed. For example, Bang Sihyuk has explicitly stated that since BTS was formed, BigHit will never debut a girl group because he wants to create a moat of perceived exclusivity (read 'assurance') for BTS's predominantly female fandom. If there's anything that tells you how cynically (or some would say pragmatically) he views the fandom, this is it.

That k-pop fans often see their idols as romantic placeholders is well known, but no other k-pop CEO has gone as far as Bang Sihyuk has in reinforcing that perception using the very structure of his company. He literally acquired another agency (Source Music) to develop his girl-groups rather than encroach on ARMY's personal fan space. I suspect the only reason BTS doesn't take their fan service further than they already do, is because of the limits the members personally set. Left to Bang Sihyuk, I highly doubt there is any limit too far, any detail too personal, to marshal towards creating ever more dedicated fandoms and ever more appealing products (aka idols). This is an opinion I've had about Bang Sihyuk for years.

This brings me to your point about the agency of BTS members in this mess. None of the guys are babies - I believe they are aware of those weekly internal reports and choose what to care about, and are also aware that HYBE's solvency, in very literal terms, depends on the members being content with the company. Despite the nonsense in those reports, BTS has a special status in the company, and I'd be disappointed if by now they didn't understand who Bang Sihyuk is, as well as their own positions in this power dynamic. Those reports are much more problematic for groups with smaller influence in the company, such as NewJeans.

At the end of the day, BTS are getting enough of what they want from HYBE and appear to maintain their trust in and allegiance to each other more than they do to anybody from HYBE, including Bang Sihyuk. And that's enough to tell me those reports have no real impact on the members.

For most of the fandom though, it's a different story.

[youraveragebtsstan]

✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐

Hello! FYI, I am a hardcore BTS Stan— however, I do partake in many other fandoms. Check out a list of the various fandoms on my page below:

✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐

💜 BTS 💜

OT7

Namjin

Yoonmin

🖤 Supernatural 🖤

Wincest (Duhhhh)

🍽️ Hannibal 🍽️

Hannigram

🔥 9-1-1/9-1-1 Lone Star 🔥

Buddie

Tarlos

🤍🖤 Jujutsu Kaisen 🖤🤍

SatoSugu

💼 Suits 💼

Marvey

🔮 BBC Merlin 🔮

Merthur

🐺 Teen Wolf 🐺

Sterek

🗡️ Vikings 🗡️

Athelnar

Hvitserk/Ivar

✨ Misc ✨

Moried (Criminal Minds)

OT3 (Leverage)

Isiah x Finn (Peaky Blinders)

Johnny x Carlito (Graceland)

McDanno (Hawaii Five-0)

Joe x Nicky (The Old Guard)

WooSan (ATEEZ)

Thai BLs

Thai Actors

Travis x Theo (Station 19)

[bookshop]

I got to talk to Anne Helen Peterson about found families in fanfiction!

Aja: What really jumped out at me about your post was the idea that we graduate into independence in adulthood that really often means isolation, because I think that’s probably true for a lot of fans who turn to these fandoms for simulacra of healthy interconnected friendship networks. We all know what the dream of that kind of community is supposed to look like. Yet it’s so hard to achieve that when, like, here in New York you can barely get three friends to settle on a time for grabbing coffee together, much less coordinate ways to more fully intermingle in each other’s lives. Logistically, too, as you point out, we’re spread apart and communes are hard to build. 

These fandoms, however, are often built around characters who by necessity have already been thrust into a networked collective. For example, Stargate: Atlantis is infamous in fandom for being a pretty mediocre TV show that spawned a hugely influential and respected transformative fandom. It’s probably not a coincidence that that show isolates its entire cast by trapping them in a giant glass-domed sky city in a galaxy far away for years, forcing them to deal with every cataclysmic element imaginable, pretty much living in a permanent state of emergency. Of course the fandom was interested in the bonds of those teammates; the whole concept is like a found family petri dish. 

Similar concept: Many K-pop bands live together in dormitories for years at a time, under strict rules and contract limitations, which naturally causes them to bond over a highly specialized and isolated experience. This sounds like a nightmare, but there are also cameras frequently turned on these living arrangements and they become romanticized. I think fans see these dorm room setups as real-life versions of what a lot of us want found family to be: no parents around, just a constant party with 7 or 13 of your beautiful best friends. That’s quite a shallow fantasy, but fanworks also complicate this idea by allowing these relationships to fracture and be messy and complex while still ultimately staying forged together. 

And that is the real fantasy, isn’t it? That you can subject yourself to the mortifying ordeal of being known, not just by one soulmate but by a whole group of kindred spirits, and you’ll still get to keep them all when the damage is done.  

You can read the whole Q&A here!

[cockringhoratio]

crying at leverage episode 3x4 where the con hinges on an orchestra being loud enough to trigger vibration sensors on a vault. i get they go for orchestra for like thematic cohesion and stuff but like. literally any pop artist would have done. they coulda waited for bts to come to town and had the con done before sound check was over.

[magic-shop-stories]

bts reaction to reader purposefully hiding an injury from them (mafia au)?

💌 Reply:

Ah, diving into the mafia AU angst pool again... I love it! 💜 Your request for BTS reacting to the reader purposefully hiding an injury? IT'S GENIOUS, thanks fot that!

NAMJOON

HOW YOU GOT HURT

You were sent to negotiate a weapons deal with a minor syndicate (Namjoon’s orders: “Observe, don’t engage”). But their leader recognized you as his weakness. Ambushed. A blade to your throat, a hissed threat: “Tell your boss to back off, or I’ll mail you to him in pieces.” You fought back, got a gash across your ribs for it.

You hid the injury for 6 hours, stitching it yourself in a gas station bathroom. But your phone died. By the time you limped back to his penthouse, blood had seeped through your shirt.

HOW NAMJOON FINDS OUT

Setting

he’s in his library

annotating Sun Tzu’s The Art of War

you stumble in

the scent of blood/ iron hits him first

Immediate Reaction

Physical

freezes mid-sentence

fountain pen snapping in his grip

ink bleeds across the page (like a Rorschach test)

Eyes

darken from warm amber to obsidian

jaw clenches so tight his molar almsot cracks

Voice

whispers, glacial

“Who.” 

not a question = a demand

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“I miscalculated. I trusted their fear. I should’ve burned them first. She’s bleeding. My fault. My failure.”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

crosses the room in three strides

grips your shoulders too tight

scans the injury like a malfunctioning equation

Dialogue

“Sit. Now.” 

already texting his surgeon

his hands don’t shake (they never shake)

Subtext

clinical touch

but his thumb brushes your pulse point (once)

checking if you’re real

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Anger

not at you

at himself

“I built an empire on predicting chaos. How did I not see this?”

at the syndicate

“They touched what’s mine. They’ll learn the cost of ignorance.”

Fear

flashback to his mother’s death (gang crossfire when he was 15) (at least in my mafiaAU imagination)

“Not again. Never again.”

Guilt

when the surgeon arrives, he stands in the corner

cleaning his glasses obsessively

“I should’ve been there. I am there, in every move. Except hers.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Intel

locks himself in his war room for 4 hours

maps the syndicate’s connections on a hologram grid

discovers their leader’s estranged daughter in Paris

“Ah. Leverage.”

Phase 2: Psychological Warfare

sends the daughter a vintage music box

(her mother’s, stolen from their old home)

note: “Your father misses you. Say goodbye.”

leaks their drug routes to Interpol

lets them flee straight into his men’s custody

Phase 3: Interrogation

Location

his underground vault

soundproofed

lined with first editions of Nietzsche and Kafka

Method

forces the leader to read your medical report aloud

“‘Laceration, 8cm depth.’ tell me, do you measure your failures so precisely?”

Finale

brands their foreheads with a quote from Thus Spoke Zarathustra: 

“Whoever fights monsters…”

Phase 4: Financial Annihilation

donates their assets to a charity in your name

texts you the receipt: 

“For your trouble.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he’s distant for weeks

assigns you a bodyguard (ex-KGB, mute, terrifying)

you find him at 3 AM

re-reading your injury report like a penitent hymn

Your Move

corner him in his library

press his palm to your healed scar

“You didn’t fail. I’m here. We’re here.”

His Breaking Point

slams his fist into the bookshelf

first edition Tolstoy tomes crash to the floor

“You don’t get it. I planned for everything, except losing you.”

Key Dialogue

You: “You’re not a god, Namjoon. Even strategists bleed.” Him: “Then let me bleed. But not you. Never you.” 

(Voice cracks on the last word)

Physical Reconciliation

crushes you to his chest

heartbeat erratic against your ear

“Stay. Let me… recalculate.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!JOON EDITION)

to the syndicate leader: 

“You thought her my weakness? No. She’s the reason your death will be a footnote.”

to you, post-revenge: 

“I’d raze every city in this empire to keep you safe. Tell me to stop.” 

(he hopes you won’t)

whispered in the dark: 

“My mind is a weapon. But you you’re the hand that steadies it.”

BONUS DETAILS

Cigar Ritual

only smokes when planning vengeance

brand? “Monte Cristo”

nod to his literary rage

Glasses Tell

cleans them when overwhelmed

after your injury, he buys 7 spare pairs

Secret Softness

hires a chef to sneak banana milk into your meals

 “For calcium. Don’t argue.”

JIN

HOW YOU GOT HURT

Jin sent you undercover to infiltrate a rival family’s casino grand opening. You were posing as a blackjack dealer, but the Don’s son grew suspicious. To test your loyalty, he offered you a drink, poisoned champagne. You drank it to keep your cover, but the toxin burned through your system. You barely made it back to Jin’s penthouse before collapsing in the marble foyer.

You hid the poisoning for 2 hours, using antidote pills Jin gave you "just in case." But the pills were expired (he forgot to check). By the time you crawled to his doorstep, your lips were blue.

HOW JIN FINDS OUT

Setting

he’s hosting a “peace summit” with rival bosses

serving haute cuisine laced with mild sedatives

you stagger into the dining hall

clutching your stomach

room falls silent

Immediate Reaction

Physical

drops his wineglass.

shatters like a punchline

smile stays frozen

knuckles whiten around the steak knife

Eyes

gaze flicks from your trembling hands to the rival Don’s son

“Ah. This is why you RSVP’d late.”

Voice

laughs, sharp and honeyed

“Yah, jagiya, you’re ruining my soufflé’s grand entrance!”

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“Expired pills. Expired. I’m a genius, huh? Should’ve poisoned myself instead. She’s cold. Why is she so cold?”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

sweeps you into his arms

cradling you like a bride

murmurs: “Shh, I’ve got you,” 

kicks open the kitchen door

Dialogue

“Who’s the drama queen now, hm? Save the theatrics for my stage.”

his voice cracks

Subtext

blames himself

hands tremble as he presses a cloth soaked in milk thistle extract to your lips

(his homemade antidote)

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Anger

at himself: 

“I’m supposed to be the protector. The funny one. How’s this funny?”

at the rival: 

“They poisoned my masterpiece. Time to return the favor—with garnish.”

Fear

flashback to a younger gang members death (close friend)

(food tampering, age 24)

“Not again. I’ll burn every kitchen in this city first.”

Guilt

forces his chef to taste-test every dish in front of you for a week

“See? Safe. Eat.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Invitation

hosts a “reconciliation dinner” for the rival family

menu: “Apology Bouillabaisse” 

laced with aconite

Phase 2: Culinary Theater

serves the poisoned soup with a wink: 

“Bon appétit! Don’t worry, it’s to die for.”

as they choke, he plays their death rattles through the penthouse speakers

“Ambiance, right?”

Phase 3: Reputation Ruin

leaks their family recipes to Michelin critics

swaps sugar for salt

“Now the world knows your cooking sucks.”

sends their matriarch a sympathy bouquet with a note: 

“Roses for your loss. P.S.: Your son tasted bitter.”

Phase 4: Legacy Erasure

buys their casino and renames it “Jin’s Revenge Buffet.” 

free shrimp cocktails for anyone who spits on their logo

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he becomes suffocatingly overprotective

installs cameras in your bedroom

“For lighting! You look better in 4K.”

catch him staring at your antidote vial like it’s a cursed relic

Your Move

cook him jjajangmyeon

burnt, salty, inedible

force-feed him a bite

“See? I’m fine. Now you trust me.”

His Breaking Point

slams his fist on the table

porcelain shatters

“You think this is a joke? I could’ve lost you!” 

tears mix with black bean sauce

Key Dialogue

you: “You’re not just my boss. You’re my home. Let me protect you too.” him: “Home?”  he laughs wetly: “Then… redecorate. But no more poison-themed curtains.”

Physical Reconciliation

pulls you into a hug

face buried in your hair

“If you die, I’ll kill you. And then myself. Then we’ll be a rom-com.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!JIN EDITION)

to the rival Don: 

“You tried to cook in my kitchen? Cute. Now burn in it.”

to you, post-revenge: 

“I’d starve the whole world if it meant keeping you fed. Eat.”

whispered while stitching your wound: 

“I’m Worldwide Handsome, not Worldwide Hero. But for you… I’ll try.”

BONUS DETAILS

Apron Code

wears a pink “Kiss the Chef” apron during hits

the back has a hidden dagger pocket

Dad Joke Defense

cracks jokes mid-interrogation

“Why did the gangster cross the road? To die!” 

(then shoots their kneecaps)

Secret Softness

learns your grandma’s recipes to cook for you

“What? It’s��research. For… poison. Yeah.”

YOONGI

HOW THE YOU HURT

Yoongi tasked you with hacking a rival’s financial network. You succeeded, but stayed behind to erase traces, ignoring his order to “exit after the first firewall.” Their enforcers cornered you in the server room. A bullet grazed your thigh. You limped to a safehouse, sutured the wound with a USB cable and vodka, and hid it for days… until infection set in.

You passed out mid-debriefing in his underground studio. Your blood seeped onto his sheet music.

HOW YOONGI FINDS OUT

Setting

he’s composing a piece titled “Silent Retribution” when you collapse

scent of iron mixes with his sandalwood incense

Immediate Reaction

Physical

freezes mid-keystroke

hands hover over the piano like he’s been electrocuted

Eyes

darken from sleepy amber to black-hole void

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Voice

a rasp, deceptively calm

“Who.”

already pulling a scalpel from his desk

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“I told her to leave. She never listens. Should’ve chained her to the piano. My fault. My fault.”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

drags you onto his leather couch

cuts away your jeans with the scalpel

clinical, no hesitation

Dialogue

“Idiot. You’re lucky I hate wasted effort.” 

hands shake as he injects antibiotics

Subtext

hums Clair de Lune under his breath

the song he played at his mother’s funeral

steadying himself

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Rage

at himself: 

“I’m supposed to be the fucking brain. How did I miss this?”

at the rivals: 

“They shot her. My code. My music. They’ll beg for silence.”

Fear

flashback to his mentor’s death (a botched hit when he was 19)

“I won’t lose her. Not like him. Never.”

Guilt

replays your last argument: 

“You’re not my keeper, Yoongi.”  “No. Just your curse.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Digital Carnage

hacks the rival’s accounts

donating $10M to an animal shelter in their name

“Let the IRS sniff that.”

Phase 2: Symphony of Pain

kidnaps the shooter and his boss

chains them in his soundproof studio

Interrogation Method

forces them to listen to a 12-hour loop of Baby Shark at 200dB (yeah hate me for that)

“You like noise? Drown in it.”

Finale

brands their palms with sheet music for Dies Irae (Day of Wrath)

Phase 3: Poetic Justice

replaces their bullets with piano wire coils

sends their corpses back in grand piano crates

texts you a photo of their leader’s melted eardrums: 

“Track 7. Your lullaby.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

avoids you for weeks

burns the bloodstained sheet music daily

find him asleep at his piano

head on the keys

gun in his lap

Your Move

play Clair de Lune on his piano (badly)

he wakes, scowling

“You’re murdering Debussy.”

His Breaking Point

slams the piano lid

“You don’t get it. I plan everything. But you... you’re a goddamn variable.”

Key Dialogue

you: “Variables keep you human, genius.” him: “Human?” 

he laughs bitterly

“I’m a weapon. Weapons don’t..."

kiss him

he melts 

“…Fuck.”

Physical Reconciliation

presses his forehead to yours

breath shaky

“Stay. Or I’ll… compose something worse.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!YOONGI EDITION)

to the rivals: 

“You think pain is loud? I’ll show you silence.”

to you, stitching your wound: 

“You’re my magnum opus. Ruin yourself again, and I’ll erase the world.”

whispered against your hair: 

“I’d burn every piano on earth… but not the one you play.”

BONUS DETAILS

Piano Key Necklace

a gift from his mother

he wears it under his shirt

never takes it off

Coffee Ritual

brews you honey-vanilla lattes after nightmares

denies it

“It’s caffeine. Don’t cry.”

Secret Softness

writes your name in Braille on his bullets

“So they know who ended them.”

EXTRA SUPER SOFT ACT (CRUELTY’S CONTRADICTION) After burning the rival’s headquarters, he takes you to an abandoned music store. Plays Clair de Lune on a broken piano, lit by moonlight. “This is yours. The only thing I’ll never destroy.”

J-HOPE

HOW THE YOU GOT HURT

Hobi sent you to broker a deal with a "friendly" syndicate. Unbeknownst to him, they’d discovered his weakness for you. During negotiations, they offered a toast, spiked champagne disguised as peace. You drank it, only to collapse as their goons ambushed your convoy. A bullet grazed your temple. You escaped, but the neurotoxin left you temporarily blind.

You hid the blindness for hours, relying on muscle memory to drive back to his neon-lit nightclub. You stumbled into his VIP lounge, blood streaking your cheek like war paint.

HOW HOSEOK FINDS OUT

Setting

he’s hosting a “business meeting”

a traitor strapped to a chair

you stagger in

pupils dilated and unfocused

Immediate Reaction

Physical

drops his taser

his grin doesn’t falter = it sharpens

Eyes

glint like polished obsidian

“Oh? Did we crash the party early?”

Voice

singsong, icy

“Sweetheart, you’re dripping on my new rug.”

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“They poisoned her. Poisoned. I’ll melt their teeth. I’ll... Focus. She’s shaking. Why is she shaking?”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

catches you mid-collapse

fingers digging into your waist

forces eye drops laced with antidote into your eyes

“Blink. Now.”

Dialogue

“You’re lucky I like messy.”

his voice cracks on lucky

Subtext

hums “Chicken Noodle Soup” under his breath

his comfort song

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Rage

at himself:

“I’m the planner. The smile. How did I miss this?”

at the syndicate: 

“They think poison is fun? Let’s play.”

Fear

flashback to his sister’s abduction (age 17)

“Not again. Never again.”

Guilt

replays your last conversation: 

“Trust me, Hobi.”  “I do. That’s the problem.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Neon Nightmare

floods the syndicate’s warehouses with neon-green acid (his mafia signature color)

texts you a video: 

"All for you baby..."

Phase 2: Invitation

hosts a “charity gala” for their families

laces the champagne with drugs

livestreams their confessions to the dark web

Phase 3: Artful Annihilation

kidnaps the traitor’s leader

forces him to paint a mural of your face with blood and gold leaf

Finale

seals him inside the mural’s frame

“Art is eternal, right?”

Phase 4: Legacy Erasure

buys their nightclub

renames it “J-Hope’s Lullaby.” 

neon sign flickers: 

“CLOSED FOR ETERNITY.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he becomes hypervigilant

replaces your perfume with neroli oil  (he swears he can track by its smell)

find him staring at security feeds, muttering coordinates

Your Move

blindfold yourself

find him in his office by touch alone

“See? I trust you. Even in the dark.”

His Breaking Point

slams his fist on the desk

“Stop. Stop being brave. I’m not... I’m not worth it.”

Key Dialogue

you: “You’re not just my shield, Hobi. You’re my light.” him: “Light?” 

he laughs hollowly

“I’m a blacklight. I only show the stains.”

Physical Reconciliation

crushes you to his chest

heartbeat erratic

“If you die… I’ll forget how to breathe.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!HOSEOK EDITION)

to the traitors: 

“You wanted a sparkle? Let me show you fire.”

to you, applying ointment: 

“You’re my equilibrium. Break again, and I’ll shatter the world.”

whispered in your ear: 

“I’d drown this city in neon… just to see you smile.”

BONUS DETAILS

Fashion Warfare

wears blood-red gloves during hits

the lining is silk

“For smooth exits.”

Coffee Code

leaves hazelnut lattes on your desk

denies it

“The barista’s obsessed with you.”

Secret Softness

built a panic room with plush blankets and your favorite manga

“For… tactical naps.”

JIMIN

HOW THE YOU GOT HURT

Jimin sent you to retrieve a stolen ledger from a rival’s yacht. You succeeded, but the heir recognized you as his “weakness.” As you fled, he slashed your arm with a jeweled dagger.“A gift for your prince.” You hid the injury, stitching it yourself as best as possible. By the time you returned to Jimin’s penthouse, sepsis had set in.

You collapsed in his rose garden, staining white petals crimson.

HOW JIMIN FINDS OUT

Setting

he’s hosting a masquerade ball for the city’s elite

you stumble into the ballroom

clutching your arm

orchestra screeches to a halt

Immediate Reaction

Physical

freezes mid-sip of champagne

smile stays perfect

his grip cracks the flute

shards glitter like tears

Eyes

darken from honey-sweet to void-black

“Darling, you’re dripping on my marble.”

Voice

airy, lethal

“Who let the rats in?”

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“I’ll peel their skin. No, too quick. Slower. She’s pale. Too pale. Should’ve locked her here. Mine.”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

Sweeps you into his arms

silk gloves soaked in your blood

carries you to his private suite

Dialogue

“Silly dove. Jewels are for wearing, not surgery.” 

voice wavers on dove

Subtext

hums Serendipity under his breath

the song he played on his piano the night he met you

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Rage

at himself: 

“I’m the puppeteer. How did I lose control?”

at the rival: 

“They marked her. Marked her. I’ll erase their bloodline.”

Fear

flashback to his best friends assassination

(poisoned roses, ten years ago)

“Not her. Never her.”

Guilt

bans white roses from his estate

“Red suits you better.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Invitation

sends the rival heir a golden dagger 

(the one that hurt you)

engraved: “For your last dance.”

Phase 2: Elegant Execution

Method

orders his men to drag the heir to a mirrored ballroom

forces him to waltz with a poisoned partner 

(slow-acting toxin)

livestreams it to the dark web

Finale

texts you a screenshot of the heir’s corpse mid-twirl: 

“Artistry, no?”

Phase 3: Legacy Erasure

burns the rival family’s vineyards

plants white roses in the ashes

“Blooms for my dove.”

Phase 4: Public Humiliation

leaks their financial crimes to their grandmother

“Granny dearest sends her regards.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he becomes icily distant

gifts you a diamond choker with a tracking device 

“For safety.” 

find him in his greenhouse

shredding roses with bare hands

Your Move

wear the choker to his next ball

whisper: “Chain me yourself next time.”

His Breaking Point

slams you against the wall

grip bruising

“You think this is a game? I could’ve lost you!” 

tears streak his cheeks

Key Dialogue

you: “You’re not a monster. You’re my haven.” him: “Haven?” 

he laughs bitterly

“Havens burn, darling.”

Physical Reconciliation

crushes his lips to yours

desperate

“Stay. Or I’ll… build a cage gilded enough to tempt you.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!JIMIN EDITION)

to the rival heir: 

“You thought her my weakness? No. She’s the reason your death will be art.”

to you, cleaning your wound: 

“I’d drown the world in glitter… just to see it shine in your eyes.”

whispered at dawn: 

“You’re my first sin. And my last.”

BONUS DETAILS

Perfume Warfare

spritzes vanilla-musk on letters to rivals

“So they’ll smell me in their nightmares.”

Mirror Ritual

checks his reflection before hits

“Monsters should look the part.”

Secret Softness

learns sign language after noticing your hands tremble post-trauma

“So you’ll always… speak to me.”

EXTRA SUPER SOFT ACT (CRUELTY’S CONTRADICTION) After burning the rival’s estate, he rebuilds it as a glass conservatory filled with doves. Gives you the key: “No blood here. Just… us.”

TAEHYUNG

HOW YOU GOT HURT

Taehyung tasked you with retrieving a stolen Monet painting. During the heist, a rival’s trap backfired, a chandelier crashed down. You shoved Taehyung’s lieutenant out of the way, but a shard of crystal impaled your shoulder. You hid the injury, snapping the shard off and wrapping it with a silk scarf from the loot. By the time you returned to his gallery, you collapsed into a display of Venetian glass roses.

The scarf was Taehyung’s first gift to you. Blood soaked its embroidered initials: KTH.

HOW TAEHYUNG FINDS OUT

he’s hosting an “art auction” for laundering profits

you stumble into the gallery

clutching the bloody scarf

the room gasps

Immediate Reaction

Physical

drops his wineglass

it shatters

his grin widens unnaturally

“Darling, you’re upstaging the Monet.”

Eyes

pupils dilate

black swallowing amber

“Who… broke my masterpiece?”

Voice

soft, singsong

“Oops. Time to repaint.”

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“My fault. Mine. Should’ve burned that gallery first. She’s pale. Too pale. I’ll paint the walls with their veins.”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

lifts you onto the auction podium

ignoring the crowd

presses a jade dagger (his favorite) to your collarbone

“Hold still. This’ll sing.”

Dialogue

“You ruined my scarf. Now I’ll ruin them.” 

his hands tremble as he extracts the crystal

Subtext

hums Winter Bear under his breath

(AU!) the song he wrote after his father’s murder

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Rage

at himself: 

“I’m the curator. I protect beauty. How did I fail?”

at the rivals: 

“They scarred her. I’ll turn their bones into art.”

Fear

flashback to his grandfather's death ((AU) stray bullet at an art show, he was 14)

“No..."

Guilt

shatters every mirror in his estate

“Reflections lie. She’s the only truth.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Exhibition

kidnaps the rival’s family

forces them to recreate the Mone

with their blood as paint

Phase 2: Artistic Annihilation

Method

carves the rival’s logo into their leader’s chest

fills the wounds with molten gold

“Now it’s priceless.”

Finale

mails the sculpture to their matriarch

texts you: “New centerpiece?”

Phase 3: Legacy Erasure

burns their galleries

plants black dahlias in the ashes

“Beauty from rot, jagiya.”

Phase 4: Public Humiliation

leaks their forgeries to Interpol

“Picasso would weep.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he becomes a ghost

haunting his studio

find him smashing clay sculptures

muttering: “Ugly. All ugly.”

Your Move

recreate the Venetian glass roses he loves

leave one on his desk: 

“Still your muse?”

His Breaking Point

crushes the rose

cuts his palm

“Don’t. Don’t make me care. I’ll... I’ll break.”

Key Dialogue

you: “Break, then. I’ll mend you.” him: “Mend?” 

he laughs brokenly

“I’m shattered glass. You’ll bleed.”

Physical Reconciliation

traces your scar with his bloodied hand

“Next time… let the world burn. Just… stay.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!TAE EDITION)

to the rivals: 

“You thought her fragile? No. She’s the fire that melts your gold.”

to you, stitching your wound: 

“I’d raze every museum… to build you a shrine.”

whispered at midnight: 

“You’re my magnum opus. Crack, and I’ll shatter the sky.”

BONUS DETAILS

Cologne Code

wears oud wood during hits

“Smells like… legacy.”

Artistic Outlet

sketches your face on enemy blueprints

“For focus.”

Secret Softness

collects vintage teddy bears for your panic room

“They’re… bulletproof. Obviously.”

JUNGKOOK

HOW YOU GOT HURT

Jungkook assigned you to guard a shipment of vintage motorcycles (his prized collection). A rival gang staged a “distraction”, a stray kitten mewling near the warehouse. You, ever the softie, went to rescue it. A rigged trap exploded, sending shrapnel into your leg. You hid the injury, using your belt as a tourniquet, and delivered the bikes… with blood pooling in the sidecar.

The kitten survived. You named it Tannie and tucked it into your jacket. Jungkook notices the blood after he coos over the cat.

HOW JUNGKOOK FINDS OUT

Setting

in his garage

polishing his Ducati

you limp in

Tannie pokes its head out, unharmed

Jungkook’s smile dies when he sees the crimson streak on your boot

Immediate Reaction

Physical

drops the rag

hands twitch like he wants to strangle the air

Eyes

dilate

flickering between feral black and wounded doe

“You… you’re bleeding.”

Voice

agrowl, low and guttural

“Who. Touched. You.”

Thoughts Flooding His Mind

“My fault. Mine. Should’ve been there. Should’ve smelled them. Stupid. Stupid.”

IMMEDIATE REACTION (to you)

Action

lifts you onto his bike seat

rips your pant leg open

presses a switchblade-heated rag to the wound

no flinch

Dialogue

“Don’t. Move.”

already revving his Ducati,

Tannie tucked in his hoodie pocket

Subtext

murmurs “good girl” to the kitten

won’t meet your eyes

HIS EMOTIONS / INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

Rage

at himself: 

“I’m the weapon. Weapons don’t fail. I failed.”

at the rivals: 

“They used a kitten. A fucking kitten. I’ll skin them alive.”

Fear

flashback to losing his childhood dog in a gang raid. 

“I'll fucking kill them all...”

Guilt

buys Tannie a diamond collar

“She’s… practice. For keeping things safe.”

WHAT HE DOES (REVENGE ACT)

Phase 1: Feral Hunt

tracks the rivals to a chop shop

lets Tannie loose to trip their alarms

“Distraction for a distraction.”

Phase 2: Brutal Efficiency

Method

uses a motorcycle chain to dismantle their leader

breaks bones in reverse order

toes to skull

Finale

leaves the body zip-tied to a “For Sale”

sign: “Free scrap.”

Phase 3: Psychological Warfare

steals their tires

replaces them with marbles

texts them: “Drive safe.”

floods their HQ with stray cats

“Meet your new bosses.”

Phase 4: Legacy Erasure

torches their garage

builds a cat sanctuary on the ashes

Tannie gets a gold plaque: “Head of Security.”

HOW TO WIN HIM BACK

Tension

he avoids you for days

bench-pressing obsessively

find him asleep in the garage

Tannie on his chest

knuckles raw and bleeding

Your Move

challenge him to a sparring match

let him pin you

“Still think I’m breakable?”

His Breaking Point

slams his fist into the mat (right next to your head)

“You are! You’re everything! And I... I’m just… this.” 

gestures to his bloodied hands

Key Dialogue

you: “You’re not just this. You’re my always.” him: “Always?” 

he scoffs

tears mixing with sweat

“Always is a lie. But for you… I’ll pretend.”

Physical Reconciliation

presses his forehead to yours

breath ragged

“Stay. Or I’ll… tie you to the Ducati.”

KEY DIALOGUE (MAFIA!KOOK EDITION)

to the rivals: 

“You hurt her? I’ll make you beg for hell.”

to you, cleaning your wound: 

“You’re my only soft spot. Don’t… blunt me.”

whispered to Tannie: 

“Protect her. Or I’ll… cry.”

BONUS DETAILS

Tattoo Tell

his ”ARMY” tattoo throbs when he’s angry

rubs it like a worry stone

Garage Ritual

builds a mini ARMY bomb replica to hang from his bike (but it's literally a bomb)

“For luck. Duh.”

Secret Softness

learns to knit

to make Tannie sweaters

denies it

“The cat did it.”

[asphyxiatedredherring]

Eliot Spencer's camera roll

Parker's

Hardison's

[clairedaring]

brb. currently screaming at the DETAILS of gelboys ep 1

(SOURCE © @virtualtadpole)

text version under the cut for readers' accessibility

I'll leave the raving about Boss and his team's meticulous craftsmanship to u/ThoughtsAllDay and others, but man, there's so much detail packed in here, I had to take notes. Which wasn't easy while watching on iQiyi without VIP, as each time you inadvertently scroll back past an ad insertion point it forces you to sit through another minute of unskippable ads that just ended five seconds ago. Anyway, some thoughts:

The biggest question I had from the series reveal was whether it's going to be one of those works that could generate endless discussions of "Is this a BL?" And so far it sure looks like one of those works. This first episode is the sliciest a slice-of-life teen drama could conceivably be. Or maybe it just feels that way because it's so different, due to the fact that...

The entire series being shot on iPhone (though they just say "phone" because Apple isn't paying them) gives the whole thing such an indie guerrilla film vibe, which is interesting to say the least. The unrestrained depth of field, the sound design picking up on every little jingling of the charms and chains the boys have on their bags, result in this raw, artsy feel that is almost jarring compared to conventional production values.

The open environment alone sounds like a continuity nightmare, though not having paid much attention to the people and cars in the background, I didn't noticed anything egregious.

The opening toilet shot was... a choice.

The song Fourmod's mother plays in the beginning is เด็กมีปัญหา (Dek Mi Panha) by, of course, Four-Mod. It's one of the biggest early hits from the Kamikaze teen-oriented record label. Faye Fang Kaew is another of the label's first groups. You can tell their mother is a huge fan. (By the way, the iQiyi subtitles spelling Fourmod's name after his Instagram handle is really annoying. Hope they drop it soon.)

Fourmod said "this term" when asking to take the BTS, so it's probably the start of the second semester, i.e. November. Senanikhom Station opened in December 2019, while the entire northern extension opened in December 2020. Either Fourmod was referring to starting his P.6 and M.1 years after the station and line opened respectively, or the series is set in 2023.

I laughed at how they needed a disclaimer warning not to run up the escalators and to hold the handrail - clearly mandated by BTS the series sponsor. If you're wondering about the sponsorship, by the way, it probably just involved them making special arrangements for location access and not any cash - this was the case for the 2009 movie Bangkok Traffic (Love) Story, which revolved almost entirely around the BTS. Here, the lack of crowds during the morning rush hour points to most of the people probably being hired extras.

The BTS got plenty of indirect advertising in exchange, of course. Fourmod buying the monthly pass seemed almost forced at first, but was soon leveraged to explain why he didn't know how to tap out of the system, since he'd presumably only used single tickets before. (Like Thoughts said, the attention to detail is incredible, with things like these that you have to zoom in to even notice.)

The depictions of locations are so super specific to reality, almost as if this were a documentary. The school is fictional, of course, but it's slotted into the exact location of Watpathumwanaram School in real life, and everything around it, including the path of the students' commute, is real. Don't know why they'd take a tuk-tuk instead of walking 400 metres to Siam Square, though, as the traffic is totally impossible.

I have no idea how much creative liberty they're taking with the school's flexibility with body accessories, electronics, and transgender students. I'm sure the creators based it on what's possible at some actual schools nowadays, but I can't tell how realistic it is for the setting at all. Very much appreciate the variability in the lengths of the students' shorts as a reflection of their personality, though, as it's rarely seen on screen anymore.

I raised an eyebrow at Fourmod asking for extra MSG in his fruit dip. (The subtitles mistranslate it as "chili salt".) Didn't even know it was a thing - usually it's just sugar, salt, and chilli - but apparently recipes that also add MSG aren't uncommon.

I'm about curious about the passage of time. Their painted nails almost growing out suggests probably two months passing during each of the time jumps, but that would be almost the entire school term already.

It's funny to imagine how they got Yuedpao as a main sponsor. Their shop is actually opposite Kantima Salon, one wonders whether it's a coincidence or they found the location first, then got the sponsorship later.

The Kluay Kluay banana dessert shop was clearly included to keep older viewers connected - it's probably the only Siam Square location in the entire episode that's recognizable to someone who knew the place from the 2000s. Heck, the neighbourhood has changed so much recently, few of the scene locations would have looked like shown even five years ago.

Which brings me to my final point and main impression from the episode: Everything in it feels so deliberate in its depiction of today's youth culture. Which is of course what the creators set out to do. But the thing is, I (and probably most Millennial and older viewers) can't quite tell how accurate it is. I trust that the team did their research well, and on the whole it feels real enough, but the script's particular references, slang and vernacular might as well be a foreign language. It feels rather eerily uncanny how changed some things have become in the space of a generation, and yet how familiar some things remain.

[oddinary4bts]

Sinful Lust | ch 4 (myg & jjk)

☆summary: Jungkook has been living his life like he's riding a car, and he sees a wall looming closer. Will he hit, or will he find a way to avoid the collision?

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly smut, angst, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: cursing, jealousy, a flashback to how it all started five years ago, alcohol, mention of social anxiety, some sort of cheating?, explicit content: unprotected sex, jerking off, tied hands/bondage ish?, oral sex (male and female receiving, male on male, male on female), face riding, mouth fucking, choking, hair pulling, anal sex, cumshot, protected sex, sexting, nudes, a side of degradation?, facetime sex, ass slapping, guided sex, creampie

☆word count: 8.6k

☆a/n: Jungkook pov time babyyy! I hope you will love it <3 Thank you to @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

                Each time he’s with you and Yoongi, Jungkook has a hard time figuring out why, or how. Especially right now, as he lies under you while you fuck yourself on him.

He watches your breasts as they bounce on your chest, watches the light sheen on your skin from your sweat. Yoongi is jerking off next to Jungkook, and he can’t help but glance at that too – Yoongi’s frowning, mouth slightly open as he grips his cock hard, pumping fast.

Your walls clench around Jungkook’s dick, and he returns his attention to you as he grunts and you let out a moan, bending forward to rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage. Jungkook lets you do it, though he tugs at his restraints, his cock twitching as his hands are held back in place.

It was Yoongi’s idea to tie him up. At the mischief lighting up your gaze, Jungkook hadn’t been able to say no, and frankly, he doesn’t think he regrets his decision.

It started with Yoongi sucking his dick while you sat on his face, and Jungkook can still taste your sleek juice in his mouth. It’s inebriating, and he thinks he’s drunk – or perhaps he’s just swimming in ecstasy. Even if Yoongi fucked his mouth after that.

Jungkook doesn’t particularly enjoy the bisexual action he’s been partaking in with you and Yoongi. He doesn’t dislike it, but he doesn’t feel any sexual attraction to it. He doesn’t think he would touch Yoongi if it wasn’t for your begging eyes. But whenever you look at him, whenever you tell him to do something, Jungkook folds, unable to tell you no.

He’s convinced Yoongi’s caught up to it, yet it seems you’re still lost in the fog of oblivion. Or maybe the three of you are just too good at pretending that it’s not there, that he didn’t say yes to this whole ordeal just because he gets to fuck you.

You clench again, this time moaning his name, and Jungkook has the visceral need to pull you flush to his chest so that he can thrust into you just like he likes. Tugging at the restraints proves to be useless, and he lets out a frustrated groan even as you pick up your pace, visibly chasing your orgasm.

It’s hot. It’s fucking hot and Jungkook feels his balls tighten, though he reins it in – he’s not going to come yet.

Your right hand shifts to his neck, and then you’re choking him, though your up-and-down motion grows sloppy, as if you have trouble focusing. And you barely choke him – you were just looking for leverage, he assumes.

“Bend down,” he tells you. “Fucking bend down, I’ll make you come.”

At his words Yoongi grabs a handful of Jungkook’s hair, forcing his head back. But you do bend down, and Jungkook braces his feet on the mattress so that he can fuck into you. He sets a relentless pace, meeting Yoongi’s gaze as you moan into his neck.

Perhaps that will be enough to make him come after all. Because he knows your Yoongi’s. Knows he’ll never have you any other way. But when you cling to him like you are doing right now, Jungkook likes to believe that you’re his, too.

He knows you’re coming the moment your orgasm crashes into you, and he doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow down. You moan against his skin, and Yoongi pulls on his hair harder, and Jungkook thinks maybe he’s coming too.

He keeps it in at the last second, his balls hurting from the denied orgasm. But he doesn’t want to come in such a subdued position – he’ll fucking ride you until you cry from the pleasure before.

He slows down, and you slump against him, your sweaty skin feeling like heaven against his. He’s still looking at Yoongi, who’s still pumping his cock hard, though he finally lets go of Jungkook’s hair. Nothing happens for a moment, until you raise your head from his neck, and then Jungkook meets your gaze.

Your cheeks are flushed red, your pupils are blown wide and you look so fucked out he feels his dick twitch inside of you. At that you moan again, and the pain in his balls increases even more because fucking hell does he need to come soon.

You smirk. You smirk and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. Especially as you push up from him, and then his dick leaves your velvety walls as you move to the side. You grab his cock, jerking him slowly, and Jungkook looks down at himself.

He’s covered in your juice. You came on him – a lot – and now you’re using it as lubrication to jerk him off and he doesn’t know right from left and up from down anymore. He’s insane – you’ve brought him right to the land of insanity.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he focuses on your face again, though you go in and out of focus as his orgasm is still so close. “I’ve soaked your dick so much you could fuck Yoons like that.”

The orgasm recedes, and Jungkook remembers that he’s not alone with you. That Yoongi is here, and he’s been deprived of attention for a while. Jungkook does feel bad about it a little, but then again, your hand on his dick just feels too good.

Yoongi murmurs your name, adding, “Don’t push his boundaries.”

You bite your lips, holding Jungkook’s gaze with a searing look in your eyes. “Would you fuck his ass if I ride your face again?”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. Especially as you bend down and spit on his dick, adding lubrication to his already soaked cock.

He thinks you’re jerking Yoongi off too now, because Yoongi groans and you let out a small laugh.

“I fucking love having the two of you for myself,” you say.

And that’s when Jungkook knows he’ll say yes. He doesn’t even care that it’s Yoongi’s ass as Yoongi sinks on him a minute later. All he’s looking at is you, and Yoongi’s ass is so fucking tight Jungkook thinks he might not get to fuck you into oblivion after all.

Yoongi moves up and down, slowly, and Jungkook grunts as you wrap your hand around his neck, choking him again. And then you force him to look at Yoongi, who’s got his head thrown back and dick so hard Jungkook feels like Yoongi’s going to come on him in just a few strokes.

You’re the one that reaches out to grab Yoongi’s dick, and you start jerking your boyfriend off as he keeps fucking himself on Jungkook. Jungkook watches, unable to do anything else, and when Yoongi’s ass clenches on his dick Jungkook closes his eyes.

He doesn’t want to see Yoongi coming on him. Doesn’t want to think about the fact he’s got a man on his dick right now, and not you. He just wants to feel how fucking tight it is, and how the drag on his dick is so sinful he knows he will come.

He’s turned on. He’s so fucking turned on by the tightness of Yoongi’s ass that he pulls at the restraints, once again trying to take control. But he can’t. He can’t, yet Yoongi bends forward somehow, and Jungkook’s mind fills with so much ecstasy from the new angle that all he can think to do is to start hammering his hips into his friend.

He comes first. He comes as he’s fucking Yoongi so hard everything hurts, and then Yoongi is coming on him, while you praise the two of them. Jungkook almost forgot that you were there, but then when he opens his eyes, it’s you that he sees first.

Perhaps because Yoongi’s hiding his face in his neck, just like you were doing earlier. And seeing you so close makes Jungkook’s orgasm linger, his dick twitching in Yoongi.

You bend down, catching Jungkook’s mouth in a languid kiss, and he kisses you back with everything in his chest, not caring that he emptied his balls in your boyfriend just a moment ago. Not when you kiss him like that – like every swipe of your tongue on his is a hidden message, of feelings shared even though they shouldn’t be.

Yoongi moves away from Jungkook as you’re still kissing him, and Jungkook tries to hold you, to cup your cheeks, but his hands still don’t move from where Yoongi tied them up. He pushes his tongue in your mouth still, lapping you up, and right when he thinks he’ll die from the lack of oxygen, you pull away from the kiss.

It takes Jungkook a moment to realize that Yoongi is gone. You’re looking towards the door, and Jungkook is still just watching you, and something hurts in his chest. He clears his throat to push it away, which gains him your attention again.

“Can you untie me?” he asks, voice still a little scrappy from when Yoongi fucked his mouth earlier.

You nod, and he notices you gulping. Something’s wrong. Something definitely is wrong between you and Yoongi, and Jungkook feels sick and twisted for it.

“Sorry,” you apologize as he mindlessly massages his shoulders, which started to ache a while ago from staying in that position for so long.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook tells you, and then he glances at his stomach. At his dick, that’s softening on his pelvis.

He’s covered in cum. Both his and Yoongi’s, and even yours from before all that. The sight nearly makes him gag, and he motions to the box of tissues on the night table.

“Can you pass me these?” he asks.

You don’t answer, though you grab a handful of tissues. Jungkook makes to grab them from your hands, but you start cleaning him up. He almost gulps from the attention, from the care in each of your motions, but he focuses on looking towards the door.

He doesn’t even know if he wants Yoongi to come back. Just that it feels weird that Yoongi left so quickly.

“Is something wrong?” you ask him, and he frowns, looking back towards you.

“No,” he answers. And though he doesn’t want to pry, he returns the question to you.

You finish cleaning his stomach before you move to his dick, and it feels a little strange to have a serious conversation with you while you’re cleaning up his dick, but then again, his entire relationship with you is weird.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess.” You shrug. “He doesn’t tell me how he feels anymore.”

You look so sad saying the words that Jungkook feels his heart breaking in his chest. He’s been expecting this since the very first time he had sex with you though. The moment when it’d create a wedge between you and Yoongi, or between Yoongi and him.

“Oh,” he lets out. He chews on his lower lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders again. “Don’t be.” You fall silent, eyes trailing to the doorway. You take a deep breath, and then softly let it out, shaking your head slightly. “Let me just go talk to him.”

Jungkook remains silent as you get up, and he looks away from you as you put on your clothes. And he feels far too awkward staying in your bed without you and Yoongi, so he gets up too, grabbing his clothes. He puts them on quickly, feeling the need to leave as fast as he can.

He’ll hate himself if your relationship goes to hell because of him.

So he puts everything on and then tiptoes to the front door. He curses himself when he has one of his shoes on – he left his motorcycle helmet in the kitchen. He glances in that direction – is that where you and Yoongi are?

He doesn’t want to interrupt a conversation between his friend and you.

But he needs the helmet. Can’t drive his motorcycle without it. So he kicks off his shoe, before walking towards the kitchen, slowly, even though it is entirely silent. He passes in front of the bathroom on the way, and there, he hears voices from behind the closed door. Muffled and low, clearly meant for you and Yoongi only, so Jungkook moves away, towards his helmet that he can now see on the counter.

He grabs it, spins on his heels to head back to the door, but he startles at the sight of Yoongi standing there.

“Oh, hyung,” is all Jungkook can think to say.

“You’re leaving?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook’s gaze widens, not really knowing how to reply. “Uh…” He gulps. “I figured it would be better to leave you and Y/n alone…”

Yoongi nods, sighing, and his eyes close momentarily before he looks at Jungkook again. “Sorry about this.”

“About what?” Jungkook asks, and he feels stupid for the question, but it just slipped out on its own.

“Making things awkward,” Yoongi explains. “I guess… I guess I should have asked that you guys don’t…” He stops speaking again, and this time he scratches the back of his head. Jungkook remains silent, giving Yoongi space to collect his thoughts. When he finally does, Yoongi says, “I don’t like you guys kissing like that? I told Y/n, and we’re going to add it to the ground rules.”

Jungkook’s heart squeezes in his chest, yet he still nods, not wanting to hurt his older friend. Especially considering that Jungkook is the guest in this whole scenario, and not Yoongi.

“That sounds good to me,” Jungkook answers, even if every word pains him. “I’ll stop.”

“And the pet names too,” Yoongi adds. “Don’t call her baby.”

There’s possessiveness in Yoongi’s tone, and Jungkook bristles a little, though he forces himself to nod. “Sure. I’m…” he trails off, eyes falling to a spot on the floor between him and Yoongi. “I’m sorry.”

And he does feel apologetic. Guilty, even. But you’ve become a drug that he can’t get enough of, and if he has to stop doing these things to be able to still get a taste of you, then he will.

“Don’t be,” Yoongi says, and he sounds reassuring. Far more than Jungkook expected him to be in the situation. “Don’t ever feel sorry. We invited you in our relationship. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me for not setting my boundaries more clearly.”

At that Jungkook feels jealousy taking shape inside of him. Because Yoongi will get to kiss you, to hold you, to be yours when Jungkook will always just be the guest. But the kisses and pet names allowed him to pretend that, for just a short period of time, you were his. And now he has to let them go, to let the feeling of your lips against his be just a memory. It hurts somehow, which he reckons is stupid.

He doesn’t usually get attached to the women he fucks. But you’re different.

You’ve been different since the day he met you.

“If you want to stay for the night, you can,” Yoongi says in the silence that was stretching to the point of awkwardness. “Guest room is yours, as always.”

And though he usually always stays the night, Jungkook feels the need to be alone. To ride his bike, to eat the road and feel the wind and forget about his thoughts for a moment. So he declines the offer, feeling strange as Yoongi walks him to the door.

He wishes you’d come say goodbye, but you’re in the shower from the sounds of it. He feels guilty for leaving like this, but then again, the night sky and the streetlights are awaiting outside, and it’s going to be much needed therapy.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Jungkook says once his shoes are on and he’s checked his pockets to make sure he has everything.

“Of course,” Yoongi answers, flashing a strained smile.

Jungkook wants to ask if his friend is okay. If he wants to stop this madness altogether, but he can’t bring himself to ask.

It’s like he’s watching a car crash into a wall, or the moments before the accident. He knows it’s about to happen, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“We’ll let you know when we want to see you again,” Yoongi adds when Jungkook just stays standing there.

The dismissal is clear, and Jungkook nods his head once before wishing good night to his friend. Yoongi tells him to drive safe and text him when he’ll get home, which Jungkook knows he won’t do.

Perhaps because he knows he won’t go home for a while still.

And he doesn’t. He rides in the night, aimlessly, going out of the city with only the moon high above as company. His bike roars like a beast under him, eating mile after mile until trees replace concrete, until he has to stop at a small gas station that looks straight out of a horror movie to fill the tank. The weather outside has been growing warmer, but the night is cold, and the moon has been lowering on the horizon, replaced by a sea of distant stars, each of them sparkling with all the might of their own little world.

If only you knew what you mean to him. But you’re like the stars up above – out of reach, for the eternity of life. And though he’d wished to be an astronaut when he was a kid, Jungkook knows he’ll never get to sail in the sky above, to meet you in outer space meant to belong to you and him. Not to you and Yoongi.

The thought has him climbing on his bike again, and it roars back to life as he turns the key in the engine. A second later he’s back on the road, and he doesn’t even care about where he’s going. Doesn’t even care that he might get lost, because he’s felt lost for weeks anyway.

With the wind and the stars as his lone companions, Jungkook rides through the night, seeking salvation. Seeking to forget he ever said yes, to forget that the second he felt you on his dick, he knew no one else would ever compare to you.

But he’s always felt this way. The night sky is too pretty to dwell in memories though, and Jungkook stops where the road meets the sea, only to listen to the waves hitting the shore like they’re keen on forming their own melody. It’s different than the one of wind in his ear, yet it’s peaceful.

Everything but his heart seems peaceful in the night. So he breathes the saline air in, lets the mist from the waves hitting the rocks cool his features, and with eyes shut Jungkook takes everything in.

And when peace finally finds his heart too, somewhere between his inhales and exhales, Jungkook climbs back on the motorcycle and heads home.

*****

If there’s someone Jungkook knows he can talk to, it’s Namjoon. His older friend, brother, a calm presence in his life whom he’s sought the help of countless times in the past. Whenever his blood ran cold or hot from fights he won or lost in the past, whenever things don’t quite work out the way he’d hoped them too, Jungkook always knows Namjoon will be there for him.

So when Namjoon invites him over to his art gallery for a small gala he’s hosting for charity, Jungkook says yes. Because he knows he’ll likely be the only one of the friend group invited, mostly because he is some sort of a celebrity to begin with. And though he doesn’t mind people knowing him for his boxing career, he also doesn’t want to just be seen as this brute that only knows how to punch other people.

Namjoon knows it, and understands it all too well. Perhaps because he was a boxer once too before he turned into an artist.

So Jungkook dons a nice outfit, a black all-denim jean and jacket combo that he was given while shooting for Calvin Klein again a couple of weeks ago. He knows he’s going to stand out in the crowd of nicely-dressed art enthusiasts, but he doesn’t care.

Maybe if he stands out enough, he’s going to attract the attention of someone that can make him forget you riding his dick like you only have one night left on this Earth.

As soon as he gets to the gallery, Jungkook heads in, motorcycle helmet in hand. He aims for Namjoon’s office, which he knows the lock password of, and he leaves his helmet there before heading into the gallery proper.

He assesses the room for a moment, anxiety spiking in his blood at the sight of so many people crowded in a place that seems like it’s about to burst. He’s not surprised – Namjoon is a renowned painter now, and rich people flock to him like moths to a flame hoping that they would get the chance to buy one of his pieces.

Jungkook stays by the door, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he scans the gallery, trying to figure out if anyone would be worth his attention. He notices a woman that looks about his age, if not a little older. She’s wearing a red dress that enhances her curves beautifully, and her long hair cascades down her back as she turns towards him, a knowing smile on her lips. Jungkook returns the smile and he’s about to head her way when Namjoon comes into his vision.

“JK!” Namjoon lets out, happily clasping his shoulder. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jungkook watches the girl as she winces, but then she turns away, walking towards where a group of rich sons are speaking. Maybe she’s here as the date of one of them. Jungkook reckons he doesn’t care because, frankly, even donned in that expensive dress she doesn’t look half as good as you look wearing just a t-shirt.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook returns, forcing his disappointment away, along with the feelings you always bring up in him. “This place is about to burst.”

“I didn’t expect so many people to show up for the charity,” Namjoon admits as he too scans the room. “But it’s all for the better!” He grabs two glasses of champagne from a server passing by, handing one to Jungkook. “We better drink before it starts because it promises to be long.”

Jungkook nods, clinking his glass with Namjoon’s before taking a long sip. The golden liquid bubbles in his mouth, and though Jungkook prefers whiskey, he does enjoy the taste as it slips in his throat.

“Got a lot of pieces on auction tonight?” he enquires as his friend knocks back the whole glass, never one to entertain a glass of champagne for more than a few seconds.

Namjoon wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, nodding curtly. “Five. The rest were provided by promising artists from the community.”

Before they can say more, a group of people approaches them, and Jungkook forces himself to participate in the conversation, offering them smiles and nods and a word here and there. It goes like this for a while, until someone ushers the room into silence so that the charity can properly start.

Jungkook slides to the back of the room, fishing a flask from an inner pocket of his jacket. He takes a swig of it, the strong taste of whiskey washing away the taste from the champagne he drank before. It’s a thankful respite, and Jungkook finds an empty wall to lean against as the auction starts.

It takes all of six minutes before the red-dress girl heads his way, meeting him away from the rest of the crowd.

“You’re not going to auction?” she asks as an introduction.

Jungkook shrugs, flashing her a smile. “Are you?”

She chuckles, and it lights up her eyes prettily. “I don’t think I’m here for this kind of prize.”

And just like that Jungkook knows exactly in what category she belongs. It might be harsh of him, but he recognizes her for what she is – someone that’s only trying to climb the social ladder, hoping that being a socialite might bring happiness into her life.

He might not have a lot of money to offer her, but for a night…

They’re fucking in the bathroom before he’s actually had the time to think this through. The condom on his dick feels like hell, keeping most of the sensations away, and she doesn’t feel quite as tight as you always do. As Yoongi’s ass did… Yet Jungkook only pushes her head down in the sink, watching how she’s grasping onto the edges of it, moaning unabashedly loud. The bathroom is far enough from the auction that Jungkook isn’t afraid to be heard, but he still puts his hand on her mouth, stifling her sounds.

And though he does find release, he realizes that it’s more of the haunting kind. As if his balls are still full, the ecstasy shying away from him. It only leaves him with a bitter aftertaste in mouth, and he declines the girl’s invitation to a hotel nearby.

As he watches her leave, he realizes that he doesn’t even know her name. And he doesn’t care for it. All that he cares for is to return to the auction, which thankfully is almost over. He listens to it in a daze, hoping that people can’t tell he just fucked someone, hoping that they can’t see the ghosts haunting him.

Namjoon sees them the moment the auction ends, and Jungkook tries to slip away in the night. Indeed, his older friend catches him in the office as he goes to retrieve his helmet, much like Yoongi had caught him that night when he’d established new boundaries.

“I hope you’re not leaving right away,” Namjoon says as he heads to a decanter on a small table by a bookshelf. “Just sold a piece for a billion won, and I need someone to celebrate with me.”

“This is hardly the first time you’ve sold a piece for that amount of money,” Jungkook reminds his friend, but he still puts the helmet down, heading for the leather seat on one side of the desk.

Namjoon pours whiskey in two crystal glasses, handing one to Jungkook before he sits on the other side. “I still never get used to it. Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course, man,” Jungkook answers.

He takes a sip of the whiskey, a much more expensive one than the one that’s hidden in the flask in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Something’s been troubling you,” Namjoon comments after a small silence of both of them appreciating the whiskey. Jungkook remains silent, not knowing what to say. After a while, Namjoon says, “I invited Taehyung and Seokjin, but they were caught up at the restaurant.”

Seokjin’s restaurant. Where Taehyung and his jazz band play every now and then, offering live music to the patrons, and helping Taehyung get a good amount of listens on Spotify. Because Taehyung’s voice is smooth velvet, and Jungkook already can see his friend climbing the ladder to success.

“What about Hobi?” he can’t help but ask.

“His girlfriend was super sick, and he asked if I minded him staying with her.”

Jungkook thinks about Ryunah, and he makes a mental note to send a text to Hoseok later to make sure that the girl is okay. Because she’s his friend too – Hoseok has been dating her for so long that she’s become an integral part of the friend group too.

“And Yoongi said it was going to be too many people,” Namjoon adds.

Jungkook immediately bristles at the mention of Yoongi, and Namjoon cocks an eyebrow, never one to miss anything. Jungkook tries to play it cool by taking a swig of whiskey, but he highly doubts that it works.

“Yoongi is an introvert,” he says carefully.

Namjoon purses his lips, nodding once. “Are you still…”

He’s told Namjoon after the first time it happened. In a situation much like this one, though a lot more alcohol had been involved. So much that Jungkook had ended up spending the night on the couch of Namjoon’s loft, which lies on the third floor of this building.

“Once in a while,” Jungkook says, and he hates how his voice is clipped.

He knows he wears his emotions on his sleeve for all to see, and fuck he hates it.

“How has that been going?” Namjoon carefully asks.

Jungkook winces. He knows he can’t escape the truth, especially not when he’s speaking to Namjoon. “It’s fun. It really is, but I think it’s driving Yoongi and Y/n apart.”

“And what about you and Yoongi?”

Jungkook gulps, eyes falling to the desk between him and his friend. He doesn’t really know how to answer that question: he’s always seen Yoongi like a reliable older brother, someone that offers a helping hand when he needs it, but now he doesn’t feel like Yoongi would be inclined to help him all that much anymore.

Then again perhaps that’s not giving his friend enough credit. Because Yoongi knows about Jungkook’s crush on you, has known since the very first day, and he’s still been a good friend to Jungkook. Even if that very first night, Jungkook believed that you were meant to be his.

Some foolish, stupid part of him will always believe it.

*****

Five years ago

                The bar is filled to the brim with people who’d come to watch the Olympics on the big screens. Jungkook is squeezed in one corner, Namjoon sitting so close to him he’s been trying to mold himself into the wall to try to get some air. It’s not Namjoon’s fault – the bar really is too crowded, and they’ve been lucky that they’ve found a place to sit amidst the chaos.

Yoongi is seated across from Jungkook, Taehyung next to him, and Seokjin and Hoseok went to get a new pitcher of beer at the bar. Jungkook glances in that direction, trying to see his friends. They aren’t there, probably headed to the toilet first, yet Jungkook’s gaze catches on something. Or rather on someone.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as beautiful as you. Maybe he’s still concussed from his latest fight, though he was the one to come out of it as the victor. Had been the one to win every fight for a while, he reckons.

But you’re an angel brought to life. Beautiful hair framing your face, big eyes taking in the bar as if you’re waiting for someone. From the distance it’s hard to tell the color of your eyes, yet Jungkook thinks they are boring right through his soul as you meet his gaze.

The corners of your lips stretch in a mindless smile, as if it’s a reaction, and Jungkook thinks he’s been brought down to his knees. It hits harder than an uppercut to the jaw, and he can’t help but smile back, though he feels clumsy and young and stupid.

You look away, and he thinks he stumbles forwards, thinks he’s sprawled on the floor when Yoongi says, “Should we go get that fucking pitcher ourselves? I think Jin and Hobi went for a smoke.”

Jungkook meets Yoongi’s gaze, eyes slightly widened. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow in question, immediately noticing Jungkook’s state.

“Wh- what?” Jungkook lets out.

“What’s got you stuttering?” Yoongi asks, laughing. “Got hit too hard last time?”

Jungkook frowns, though he glances over his shoulder towards you again. “There’s a girl at the bar.”

As if he understood everything by that simple sentence, Yoongi says, “So you’re looking to fuck?” It’s teasing. It really is, so Jungkook doesn’t take it as an insult when Yoongi continues, “I thought tonight was for the boys.”

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning. “No I… She looks like she’s waiting for someone.”

Yoongi moves to the side, trying to catch sight of you. He nods when he does, before looking towards Jungkook again.

“She does.”

“Would it be stupid to ask for her number?”

“Whose number?” Namjoon jumps in.

Yoongi motions towards you. “That girl.”

“She’s hot,” Taehyung answers.

“Fuck, guys stop it,” Jungkook begs, embarrassment swirling in his blood. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Just ask her for her number,” Taehyung insists.

Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. “No, all good. Yoongi’s right, tonight is for the boys.”

“I can ask for you,” Yoongi suggests, clearly feeling a little guilty for bringing the other guys into the conversation.

“Bruh, he’s a boxer, pretty sure he can ask a girl out himself,” Taehyung jokes.

Jungkook loves Taehyung to bits, but sometimes he hates him too. Right now is one of those times. “Fuck off, Tae.”

Taehyung just grins from ear to ear, eyes bright with laughter. “Love you too.”

“Let’s just go get that pitcher,” Yoongi then says.

Taehyung whines as Yoongi pushes him, but they soon slide out of the booth. Namjoon doesn’t budge, and Jungkook watches the two other guys as they head to the bar. Taehyung says something in Yoongi’s ear, and Yoongi looks back towards them as he answers.

Though he’s far enough, Jungkook can read the ‘fuck off’ on Yoongi’s lips that makes Taehyung burst out laughing. Taehyung seems to insist, and Yoongi folds, catching Jungkook’s gaze once before nodding his head.

And then Jungkook watches them as they approach you. He’s never seen Yoongi flirt with anyone before, and he watches in horror or maybe awe as Yoongi leans against the bar next to you, saying something that prompts you to laugh, while Taehyung stands behind him to talk to the barman.

Even though the bar is crowded, Jungkook thinks he hears your laugh. It’s crystal clear, soft, and he wishes he could be in Yoongi’s spot. But he’s a shit flirter, usually only hitting on girls to fuck them. It’s always been easy to him, that part, but something about the way you carry yourself tells him that it wouldn’t work with you.

He forces himself to look away, letting out a groan. Namjoon turns his head towards him, a contemplative look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yoongi is speaking to her,” Jungkook says, motioning over his shoulder.

Namjoon looks in that direction, and says, “And they are looking this way.”

Jungkook glances over his shoulder right away, an anxious thrill moving through his body. He catches your gaze again, though you look away immediately. He’s pretty sure you’re blushing, though you shake your head no.

Jungkook looks away, feeling disappointed because you looked embarrassed. As if him wanting to have your number is an embarrassing thing. Or maybe he’s just overthinking everything, and Yoongi didn’t even mention him.

Taehyung comes back a few minutes later with a full pitcher. “Yoongi’s still talking to that girl,” he complains as he sits down. “She said no to give you her number, by the way.”

It’s the way Taehyung says the word, as if he doesn’t give a shit about it, that prompts Jungkook to look over his shoulder again.

Indeed, you’re still speaking to Yoongi. And you look like you’re enjoying yourself, laughing and smiling as Yoongi also sports that same comfortable attitude. It’s so rare to see Yoongi like this that Jungkook feels guilty for mentioning you, for acting as if he was entitled to you earlier.

When you rest a hand on Yoongi’s forearm where it’s resting on the counter Jungkook knows that he lost this fight. Not that it was a fight to begin with, but he still feels like he lost when Yoongi doesn’t come back for a while still, only coming back to them after Seokjin and Hoseok returned too, both smelling of cigarettes.

Yoongi sits at the head of the table, and Jungkook meets his gaze. He has a piece of paper in his hand and he hands it to Jungkook, causing silence to fall at the table.

“I got it,” Yoongi says, a smile gracing his lips.

Jungkook thinks that it’s the same smile Yoongi was offering you earlier, as if it’s lingering around.

“Ah, keep it,” Jungkook replies. “You two were clearly getting along.”

Yoongi frowns slightly. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s all good,” Jungkook insists. “We never see you getting along with women, just keep it.”

“It’s because he prefers dick,” Taehyung jokes, and the table is a mixture of rolling eyes and loud laughs for a few seconds.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi tells Taehyung, though his features are soft as he safely puts away your number in his wallet.

Jungkook watches the piece of paper as it disappears from view, and all he can do is just hope that he won’t regret his decision later on.

*****

The usual pain of his knuckles hitting the punching bag, of the recoil in his whole arm, is grounding. Jungkook goes through his usual routine, mind zeroing on the motions of his body, like the waves relentlessly hitting the shore. He’s just the vessel on this ocean, and each thump of his fists against the punching bag is satisfying, in ways words can’t explain.

It’s late. The world outside has gone dark, and Jungkook can see his reflection on the windows. From the corner of his eyes, he sees how precise each of his movements are, how fluid he is. Like a wave – never fully stopping, never lowering his guard. He knows this dance more than he knows how to breathe.

He started boxing when he got bullied so rough that going to school had started being dangerous to him, almost twenty years ago. Then, his small fists had barely been able to make the punching bag sway, but today he has to be careful not to let his strength go unchecked.

Yet he keeps going. The motions carry him, the 1-2-2-1 in his head a litany, like it’s a prayer to a religion only he knows. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow down, a machine more than a human being.

It’s the best way to evade his feelings. To find a place of cool calm where he can just be, he can just exist, instead of having to think and feel. Because lately he’s been feeling too much.

It’s been weeks since Namjoon’s gallery show. Since Namjoon asked if a wedge was created between Yoongi and Jungkook. And though Jungkook answered with the negative, the follow-up question Namjoon asked was haunting, and he doesn’t want to think about it.

So he goes faster, hits harder. Maybe if his punches are loud enough they’ll cover the sound of his thoughts. Or maybe he should have put some music on – the sound of his clipped breathing and grunts is haunting even to his own ears.

Frustration spikes in him, and Jungkook stops, grabbing the punching bag to keep it from swinging aimlessly. He leans his forehead against it, not caring that he’s covered in sweat and that his hair is clinging to it. He takes a few long breaths, focuses on the hammering of his heart in his chest, of the blood pumping in his veins.

And then he thinks of you, he thinks of Yoongi, and he’s right where he started this evening. Under you, under Yoongi, pleasuring the both of you while he was incapable of finding his own pleasure.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did Yoongi, or Jungkook. All of you pretended that it didn’t happen. That Jungkook hasn’t come in weeks now.

He’s just unable to do it with you now. Not that he doesn’t want to – he really does, but not being able to kiss you has been playing games on his mind, and most of the time he loses his erection before he’s been able to come.

He still feels pleasure. A lot of it. Far more than he’s felt in any sexual encounters before, but he just isn’t able to reach completion anymore. He thinks, when it’ll find him, maybe he’ll thank the God above, if there’s even one.

Or maybe he should be thanking the one in hell.

He sighs as his breathing slowly returns to normal, and then pushes away from the punching bag to head to where he left his water bottle and shirt. Indeed, he’s shirtless, and he watches his reflection in the windows as he takes off his gloves, and then gulps down the water. He isn’t as ripped as he was before he retired from boxing, but he’s still toned, defined muscles creating a play of shadows and lights on his chest and stomach. He’s proud of his body – proud of the way you look at him. Proud of the way Yoongi looks at him, with lust and attraction and a side of envy. Or at least Jungkook likes to tell himself so, because he looks at Yoongi with far too much envy for it to be healthy.

He empties the water bottle, before bending down to grab his shirt. Even though he’s sweaty, Jungkook puts it on, knowing he’ll throw it in the washing machine the minute he gets home. And then he heads to his locker, where he left his motorcycle helmet and keys, switching those with the gloves he always leaves here, and a second later he’s turning off the lights to the gym, before heading outside.

He locks the door, breathing in the fresh air of early spring, and then he walks over to where his bike is parked. He’s quick to mount the motorcycle, to push the key in the ignition, and his bike purrs to life. The vibration shakes through his entire body, and then Jungkook is shooting out of the parking lot, heading home.

The streets are empty at this time of night, and Jungkook enjoys the ride, even though it’s short-lived. First thing he does when he gets home is put everything he’s wearing in the washing machine, and then he takes a really long and hot shower, hoping to erase the feeling of you and Yoongi on him.

It doesn’t work. It never fully works, and here, alone in his shower, Jungkook can’t help the lust that takes over him. Can’t help the tightening of his balls and the hardening of his dick, but he ignores it, not caring that something aches in his lower stomach from the repetitive denied orgasms.

He steps out of the shower once the water has turned cold, grabbing a towel to dry out his hair before wrapping it around his hips. He’s about to step into his walk-in, which is connected to his bedroom, when he sees his phone lighting up where he left it next to the sink.

He frowns – who would text him at this hour? – before heading to the device. His heart sinks in his chest when he sees your name, mostly because you never text him so late.

Did something happen with Yoongi?

Apparently not, Jungkook thinks. Not as he reads,

[4:57 am] You: I’m sorry about tonight

Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for. You’re always good, so good to him. His heart has just been playing with his mind.

[4:58 am] Jungkook: why? [4:58 am] Jungkook: don’t be sorry, you were great

It doesn’t take you long to reply. Or at least to start typing a reply. Jungkook watches the three dots appearing and disappearing for almost a whole minute before your text finally comes in.

[4:59 am] You: you didn’t cum [4:59 am] Jungkook: don’t worry about it

Maybe you’re drunk, or maybe the late hour has been getting to your head much like it’s been getting to his. Because your reply makes him so hard he thinks he might actually be able to bust tonight.

[5:00 am] You: i miss feeling you cum in me

Jungkook shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose as if that would change your reply. When he opens his eyes again, he sees that it hasn’t, that you really did say that. He doesn’t really know what to make of it. So he heads to his bed, takes off the towel and lies down, fully naked and skin still wet from the shower, right in the middle of the mattress.

[5:01 am] Jungkook: you’re filthy [5:01 am] You: only for you

He’s going insane.

[5:02 am] Jungkook: are you sure you should be texting me this shit rn? [5:03 am] You: honestly Idk. yoons is sleeping next to me

Jungkook oh so wishes it was him next to you. Him that would get to fall asleep in your bed, him that would get to fuck you in the middle of the night whenever you can’t sleep.

[5:03 am] Jungkook: I don’t think you should be telling me this when he’s not with us [5:04 am] You: I know [5:04 am] You: I agree [5:04 am] You: but I haven’t been able to sleep bc I’ve been thinking about you filling me up, and it feels wrong to wake yoons up for this [5:05 am] Jungkook: maybe u should wake him up. Maybe you can ride him with your eyes closed thinking that it’s me

Jungkook starts jerking off right then and there. He feels like what he’s doing is wrong, far too wrong, but somehow, he’s aroused by the thought of you unable to sleep because of him, because you want him so desperately.

You don’t reply for a while. And he doesn’t think he deserves a reply. He knows he’ll hate himself as soon as his lust passes, if it ever does.

So he shuts his eyes. Remembers the first time he felt your walls clenching around his dick, and he squeezes himself harder to try to reproduce the feeling. Nothing compares, but you’re there, printed behind his closed eyelids, and he thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to come.

His phone vibrates, and like an addict in need of a hit he quickly grabs it where he left it on his mattress. And when he sees what you sent, he goes into a frenzy he’ll only later describe as the stupidest moment of his life.

You sent him a nude. He can’t see your face, but your lips are on full display, your breasts the centerpiece of the picture. Your nipples are perked prettily, as if just begging for him to suck on them, and he squeezes his dick so hard it actually fucking hurts.

He doesn’t hesitate. He takes a picture of himself that he sends to you, the tip of his dick leaking with precum.

[5:09 am] Jungkook: I’m so fkg hard for you [5:10 am] You: just fucking cum, jk, it shouldn’t be that hard

The degradation in the sentence sends him flying over the edge, and he grunts loudly as he does come on his stomach. He picks up his pace, milks his orgasm as it runs through him, alighting every single one of his nerves with pleasure. He’s shaking when he’s done, feeling weak and blissed and like he’s just committed something unforgivable. He wonders if you feel the same, lying in bed next to Yoongi.

Something breaks. Something physically breaks in him and he hates it. Hates every moment that led him to do this, to do the irreparable to one of his friends. He reckons, if Yoongi hates him forever, he’ll deserve it. Because he knows he won’t be able to hide this from his friend, knows that…

His phone rings, breaking him out of his train of thoughts. To his surprise, and mostly fear, it’s Yoongi calling on Facetime. Jungkook swallows a lump in his throat as he answers, the camera obviously angled towards his face.

Yoongi appears a few seconds later, looking half asleep. “So you’re sending nudes to my girlfriend now?”

Jungkook feels tears burning in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

Yoongi laughs, and it breaks into a moan that makes the tears still in Jungkook’s eyes.

“She wanted me to…” Yoongi grunts. “Call you to show you what you’ve done to her.”

And then the camera flips, and it’s your ass on display as you ride Yoongi in reverse cowgirl. Every thought eddies out of Jungkook’s head, and he just watches, entirely forgetting that he’s covered in his own cum when you moan.

Yoongi’s cock glistens in the dim light of the lamp on your night table. You’re so wet Jungkook can hear it through the phone, and his arousal spikes, waking something in him.

“Why don’t you slap her ass?” he tells Yoongi, voice low and dark. “To punish her for what she did tonight.”

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitate. And he slaps so hard Jungkook can see his imprint slowly forming on your skin. It’s sinful, and he does feel bad because the sound you let out is slightly pained, until Yoongi massages your ass and you moan.

Then Jungkook disconnects from reality. Or maybe he dissociates. He knows he tells Yoongi what to do. Knows he tells Yoongi to fuck you in doggy style, to pull at your hair and mark your back with his nails. He guides his friend through the whole thing until his own dick is aching again, ready to go even though he already came. So he jerks himself off, the pain in his chest increasing yet he’s unable to pay attention to it. Unable to do anything other than watch you and Yoongi fuck like animals, until Yoongi comes and pulls out to let Jungkook see his cum dripping out of your cunt.

Jungkook comes at the sight. Not as much as he did earlier, but he still grunts and moans and curses as new cum meets the one that was already on his stomach. He feels even more disgusting, but you and Yoongi don’t seem to notice. Indeed, you invite Jungkook over the next day, and maybe he’s just a little too distracted to notice the shadows in Yoongi’s gaze.

Jungkook accepts the invitation, knowing that he’ll never be able to say no to you. And when you finally hang up, after having spoken for a few minutes, Jungkook barely has the strength to drag himself to the shower to clean up.

Once he’s lying back in bed, he feels like he’s spinning. Like the Earth has sped up, or maybe like he’s a mere sock getting tossed around in the dryer. It’s sickening, just like that feeling that’s clutching at his guts, and that’s been clutching at his guts for a while now.

Because his bed is empty, cold. His bed is always empty and cold. He doesn’t have you by his side, doesn’t have someone to warm up the covers. Hasn’t had anyone to warm up his covers in what feels like forever now.

And so his heart breaks, even more. It aches like acid was poured on it, and no amount of breathing techniques he’d used to get in the game before his boxing matches help. No, the tears win, and though he feels weak for it, he lets them free. Lets them be testaments of his feelings for you, of the loneliness that’s been creeping on him every fucking day since he felt you on his dick for the first time.

The car looms closer to the wall and tonight, Jungkook thinks it may very well meet its end sooner than expected.

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☆☆☆☆☆

*chuckles* we're in danger. What did you guys think about this one? I'm so afraid you won't like the direction this fic is taking :') let me know what you think!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[leveragecentral]

Gina Bellman: Celebrate the women in your life on International Women’s Day. Here’s my director, friend and co-star ⁦Beth Riesgraf ⁩ crushing it alongside our cameraman Gary Camp! Ep 4- Season 3- #LeverageRedemption [x]

[delektorskichick]

His wife also played the villain in The Inside Job!

Hey was anyone gonna tell me that Dean Devlin, one of the dudes who gave us Leverage, also produced fucking Godzilla and Independence Day or was I going to have to learn that last night on a flare rewatch with my wife last night??

[1343401]

echos of the sea - chapter seven

pairing: bts x reader

status: ongoing

word count: 11.2 k

warnings: depictions of violence, kidnapping, death, family trauma, insecurities, mentions of blood

prev | next | m.list

the lantern flickers, casting long, uneven shadows across the captain’s quarters. the sharp tang salt and stale rum is thick in the air, coating everything it touches. no one speaks. tension settles like a storm waiting to break.

namjoon leans against the heavy oak table, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. hoseok sits on a crate, one leg bouncing, fingers absently toying with the dagger in his hands. jungkook stands by the door, stiff and bristling, fists clenched tight at his sides.

the weight of the silence is suffocating.

finally, namjoon exhales, slow and measured. “so. she’s not the princess.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens. “she’s still useful.”

namjoon doesn’t react right away, just watches him, calculating. “how?”

jungkook straightens slightly, the tension in his shoulders coiling even tighter. “they were close. at the ball, on the balcony.” his voice is controlled, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something he’s barely holding back. “it wasn’t just for show. he sought her out.”

hoseok lets out a quiet scoff, the sound barely audible over the creaking of the ship. “you sure about that?”

jungkook’s eyes snap to him. “i know what i saw.”

hoseok twirls the dagger between his fingers, the blade catching the light. “and what exactly did you see?”

jungkook steps forward, jaw clenched. “the prince didn’t just look at her, he held her like she was his.” his voice is sharp, edged with something unreadable. “and when we took her? he fought for her.”

hoseok tilts his head, unimpressed. “and?”

jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides. “it means she’s not just some maid. she’s important to him.”

hoseok raises a brow, smirking slightly. “important how? you think she’s his secret lover?”

jungkook’s glare sharpens. “i think he’ll come for her.”

namjoon finally moves, reaching for the bottle of rum on the table. he doesn’t pour himself a drink, just turns it slowly in his hands, deep in thought. “that’s a bold assumption.”

jungkook doesn’t flinch. “it’s a calculated one.”

namjoon glances at him. “you don’t even know if he’s realized she’s missing yet.”

jungkook’s throat works as he swallows, but his expression doesn’t waver. “the screams from the balcony say otherwise.” his voice is edged, tight with something unspoken. “he sent men to chase us to the docks to retrieve her.”

namjoon’s grip on the bottle tightens slightly, but he says nothing. hoseok lets out a low whistle, leaning back against the crate. “so the prince does care, after all.”

jungkook exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i don’t know if he cares about her. but he definitely cares that we took her.”

down with a dull thud, the sound swallowed by the steady rocking of the ship. “so what you’re saying,” he starts, voice slow, measured, “is that we still have leverage.”

jungkook nods once. “stronger than we thought.”

hoseok hums, stretching his arms behind his head. “but that only matters if the prince actually comes after her.” he glances between them, a lazy smirk curling at his lips. “and if we don’t throw her overboard before then.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens. “she’s worth more alive.”

namjoon studies him for a moment, sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “you’re awfully defensive of her.”

jungkook doesn’t blink. “i’m being practical.”

hoseok snorts. “sure.”

namjoon leans forward, elbows on his knees. “you were the one who said she was close to the prince at the ball.”

“she was,” jungkook says, voice clipped. “courtgoers were talking about it. the prince barely even spared a glance at the princess, but her?” he shakes his head. “he was looking at her.”

namjoon taps his fingers against the table, deep in thought. “so if we let her go, and the prince finds out she was with us…”

“it’s a waste.” jungkook crosses his arms. “if we keep her, it gives us time to figure out what she’s worth.”

namjoon exhales slowly, rubbing his temple. then, after a long pause,

“fine.”

hoseok raises a brow. “that’s it?”

namjoon’s lips curl into something almost amused. “for now.” his gaze flickers back to jungkook. “but if she causes trouble, she’s your responsibility.”

jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “fine.”

namjoon pushes himself to his feet. “good. now get some rest. things will be clearer in the morning.”

hoseok watches as namjoon strides off, then shakes his head with a chuckle. “you really think she’s worth all this trouble?”

jungkook doesn’t answer right away. his fingers drum against the table, his gaze lingering on the door to her quarters.

“we’ll find out.”

hoseok watches jungkook for a beat, eyes sharp with something unreadable. then, with a scoff, he leans back in his chair, twirling the dagger once more before slamming the tip into the wood. “just don’t get too attached.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens. “i’m not.”

hoseok hums, unconvinced. “sure.” he tilts his head toward the door. “but you’ve got that look in your eyes.”

jungkook’s fingers still against the table. “what look?”

“the same one you had when namjoon first brought you in,” hoseok muses, tapping his fingers against the hilt of his blade. “that same stubborn, reckless loyalty.”

jungkook exhales sharply, pushing off the table. “it’s not like that.”

hoseok’s lips twitch. “if you say so.”

jungkook ignores him, turning on his heel and heading for the door. but as his hand hovers over the handle, he hesitates just for a second.

hoseok catches it. “careful, jungkook,” he calls lazily. “people like us don’t get to keep things.”

jungkook doesn’t respond. instead, he shoves the door open and disappears into the dark.

the rocking of the ship wakes jiah up, heart pounding. the scent of salt and damp wood fills her lungs, the gentle sway making her stomach twist. not from seasickness, but from the crushing weight of realization.

this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

her fingers clutch the thin blanket draped over her, her breath uneven. she knows this story. she knows every twist, every carefully crafted arc, every choice that leads to yiseo’s grand romance.

but yiseo isn’t here. i am.

her stomach tightens.

yiseo is the one who’s supposed to be taken. she’s supposed to have the enemies to lovers arc with namjoon. she’s supposed to hate him, fight him, and then, much to jiah’s dismay, slowly fall for him. there are moments written into the story, perfectly timed shifts in their relationship.

but now…

jiah swallows hard. does that even happen anymore?

if she’s here, does that mean she’s taken yiseo’s place. does that mean namjoon’s story has changed? does that mean yiseo’s love story is gone?

her chest feels tight, her mind racing through the plot. she tries to piece it together, tries to predict where this divergence leads.

in the book, after yiseo gets taken, the prince is determined to get her back. him and his general set off after the pirates. they try tracking down the pirates relentlessly, but as days turn into weeks the search seems to be in vain. the oceans, vast and unrelenting, stretch before them like an endless dream, yet their resolve does not waver. they chase shadows, whispers of the pirates’ whereabouts, until the sea becomes their only world.

now seokjin isn’t chasing after yiseo.

he’s chasing after me.

except he’s not.

jiah clenches her fists, nails pressing into her palms. she knows better than to believe that. this is different than the one she’s spent countless nights reading about. this seokjin doesn’t chase people. he doesn’t throw himself into the fire for anyone, not even the woman he’s supposed to marry.

so why would he come for her?

a stolen moment in the market. a fleeting conversation at the ball. that’s all they had. she was never meant to be anything more than a passing face in his perfectly structured world.

he isn’t coming after her.

he probably hasn’t even spared her a second thought.

and namjoon? jiah doesn’t even know if he cares that she’s here.

and that pisses her off.

because she knows him. not personally, not like the pirates do, but she knows him. she read his story, followed every page, every word, every carefully crafted arc that made him the perfect enemies to lovers lead. he was supposed to be sharp tongued and insufferable, infuriating in a way that made her heart race.

but this?

this wasn’t the namjoon she expected. this namjoon barely acknowledges her existence. no snide remarks, no heated stares, no tension crackling between them like an unspoken challenge. just cold, detached indifference, like she’s not even worth the effort.

and maybe that should be a relief. maybe she should be grateful that she doesn’t have to deal with his impossible attitude, his arrogance, his infuriating way of always having the last word.

but she’s not.

she’s angry.

because in the book, namjoon fought with yiseo. challenged her. drove her insane until she was forced to meet him at his level, until their hatred twisted into something deeper. something raw and consuming.

but now yiseo isn’t here. she is.

and namjoon doesn’t even look at her.

like she’s nothing. like she doesn’t even exist.

and she hates that it bothers her.

and then there’s the worst part. the part that makes her head spin.

do i even want this storyline?

the thought lingers, heavy and suffocating, curling around her ribs like a vice. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. this isn’t her story. it was never supposed to be her story.

jiah presses her palm to her forehead, forcing herself to take a slow breath. her thoughts are spiraling, crashing into each other like waves against the hull, each one more frantic than the last. if she’s already changed this much, if yiseo isn’t here, if she is the one in her place, then what happens now? does yiseo still get her ending? does she even want this?

or worse, does she even have a choice anymore?

focus.

if she’s really trapped in this story, if she’s replaced yiseo, then she needs to figure out what happens next.

the book had a pattern, a structure. every moment was carefully placed to lead to the next. if she follows it, if she can anticipate what’s coming then maybe, just maybe she can survive this.

so what happens now?

in the original story, yiseo spends days resisting. refusing to eat, refusing to speak. namjoon doesn’t care. he lets her waste away in silence, treating her like an inconvenience rather than a captive. she tries to escape. fails. every time, she’s dragged back, her wrists bruised from struggling, her pride scraped raw. but slowly, in the quiet moments between resistance and failure, she earns the crew’s respect. not through charm, not through kindness, but through sheer defiance. standing her ground. proving her worth in ways that have nothing to do with royalty.

then the storm hits. violent and unrelenting, the kind that swallows ships whole. she nearly drowns, swallowed by the sea’s fury. and namjoon, cold, unyielding Namjoon, is the one who saves her.

after that, something shifts between them.

jiah exhales slowly, gripping the edge of the cot beneath her.

will the same things happen to me?

or has her presence already thrown everything off course?

and then there’s jungkook.

in the book, he’s loyal to his captain first. he doesn’t care about yiseo, doesn’t pay her much attention. but last night—

jiah’s throat tightens.

last night, he looked at her like she belonged to him.

that’s not in the book.

and then there’s jimin.

jimin was supposed to be a threat in this story.

but he wasn’t.

not to her.

she shivers, wrapping her arms around herself.

so many things have already changed.

the door to her small quarters creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that sends a shiver down her spine. jiah stiffens, fingers curling into the thin blanket beneath her as the dim candlelight flickers against the wooden walls. the salty air is thick, pressing down on her chest, but it’s nothing compared to the weight that settles in her stomach when she hears

"awake already?"

jungkook.

his voice is casual, almost lazy, but there’s something else buried beneath it, something that coils around the words like a tightening noose. dark. possessive. like he’s already decided she belongs here, belongs to him.

he steps forward, slow and unhurried, and the golden light catches the sharp line of his jaw, the glint in his eyes. they’re darker than she remembers, like the depths of the ocean at night. bottomless, unreadable, dangerous.

jiah swallows hard. "what do you want?"

jungkook tilts his head, and for a moment, he just watches her, gaze dragging over her like he’s trying to memorize every detail. she shifts uncomfortably beneath it, but she doesn’t look away. she won’t.

his lips curve. not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. something in between. something that sends her pulse skittering in her throat.

"just checking on you."

he says it like it’s nothing, like it’s a courtesy, but the way he lingers in the doorway, the way his fingers flex at his sides, tell her otherwise.

"you were tossing in your sleep."

her breath catches.

was i?

she doesn’t remember dreaming, but her body aches, like she spent the night running, fighting.

"i'm fine," she says quickly.

jungkook steps closer and she stiffens, back pressing harder against the wood but he notices.

a flicker of amusement crosses his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"you keep looking at me like i'm going to hurt you," he murmurs.

her throat is dry.

"aren’t you?"

he lets the question hang between them, his silence more unnerving than an answer.

then, slowly, he raises a hand.

she flinches.

it's barely a movement, just the slightest jerk of her shoulders, a hitch in her breath, but he notices.

his fingers graze the wall beside her head, slow and deliberate, his touch featherlight but unmistakable. the wood creaks under the weight of his palm, sealing her in. jiah can feel the heat radiating off of him, the bare inches of space between them thick with something she refuses to name.

his eyes flicker, catching the way her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress, the way her throat bobs as she swallows. the space between them seems to shrink, though neither of them move.

jiah hates that he sees it. hates that he knows.

her pulse thrums against her skin, a frantic rhythm she can't control. she forces herself to stay still, to meet his gaze, but the damage is already done. he saw her flinch.

and judging by the way his lips curve, just barely, he won’t forget it.

"i saved your life," he reminds her, voice quiet but sharp.

she doesn’t hesitate. "i didn’t ask you to."

his jaw tightens. the flickering lantern overhead casts his face in shifting shadows, carving sharp lines into his cheekbones, the tense set of his mouth.

"you should be more careful with your words, princess."

her breath stutters.

his voice is lower now, softer, but no less dangerous. it curls around her like mist, like the hush before a storm.

"this ship is full of men who don’t care whether you asked for anything."

he leans in, his breath a ghost of warmth against her skin, and she swears the whole ship rocks with the movement.

"you’d rather be at their mercy?"

she meets his gaze, unflinching. "i’d rather be free."

a muscle in his jaw jumps. something flashes through his eyes. quick, raw, and unreadable. it makes her stomach twist, but she doesn’t look away.

then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, the air between them shifting. he pushes off the wall, stepping back, his expression unreadable.

"get dressed," he says, voice clipped as he turns for the door.

jiah exhales shakily, willing her heartbeat to slow.

"why?"

he stops, glancing back at her.

"captain wants to see you."

the knot in her chest tightens.

she swallows hard, forcing herself to move. she doesn’t have much to change into—just the same dress she was taken in, now wrinkled and stiff with salt. she smooths it down with shaking hands, her mind racing.

outside, the waves crash against the hull, steady and unrelenting, as if the sea itself is reminding her she’s not supposed to be here.

she swallows hard, forcing herself to move. she doesn’t have much to change into. just the same dress she was taken in, now wrinkled and stiff with salt. she smooths it down with shaking hands, her mind racing.

captain as in namjoon. the namjoon.

the one who was supposed to be yiseo’s enemy-to-lovers counterpart. the one who, by the end of the book, would have melted just enough to fall for the heroine.

but jiah isn’t yiseo.

and she isn’t supposed to be here.

so what does that mean for him?

for the story?

for her?

jungkook doesn’t say anything as he leads her up to the main deck, but she can feel his presence behind her, close enough to remind her that she’s not going anywhere without his say.

the moment they step into the sunlight, she has to squint, the sudden brightness making her vision swim. the salty breeze stings against her skin, sharp and bracing, carrying the scent of brine and aged wood.

the ship is alive with movement.

crew members move with practiced ease, hauling ropes, scrubbing the deck, shouting orders over the crash of waves. the wood beneath her feet groans with every shift of the ship, the towering masts above her swaying ever so slightly. sails snap in the wind, their heavy fabric catching the morning light, casting shifting shadows across the deck.

a man near the stern grips a rope between his teeth as he knots it with one hand, laughing at something another sailor says. barrels are rolled across the planks, the rhythmic thud of boots against wood adding to the ever-present hum of activity.

everything about it feels lived-in, practiced. like a well-oiled machine, each moving part essential.

and she is the only thing out of place.

she grips the railing for balance, the reality of her situation slamming into her all over again.

no land in sight.

no escape.

just the endless stretch of open ocean, the rhythmic creak of the ship, and the salt-stained wind whipping through her hair.

namjoon stands near the helm, arms crossed, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim morning light. even at a distance, he radiates authority, the kind of presence that demands attention without needing to ask for it. his expression is unreadable, sharp eyes fixed on the man beside him, a leaner figure, all coiled tension and restless energy, idly twirling a dagger between his fingers. the blade catches the light as he speaks, something sharp and smug in the way he moves, the way his lips curl.

jiah swallows hard.

she shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t be standing on this deck, trapped in a story that isn’t hers.

but namjoon isn’t looking at her. neither of them are.

not yet.

still, her breath catches, fingers tightening around the railing. because she knows it’s only a matter of time.

before she can dwell on it, namjoon turns.

his eyes land on her immediately.

and he smirks.

"finally awake, your highness?"

jiah stiffens, heat flashing through her chest at the nickname.

he starts toward her, boots heavy against the wood, each step deliberate.

jungkook tenses beside her, but namjoon barely spares him a glance. his focus is entirely on her.

"we didn’t get a proper introduction," he says smoothly. "but then again, i suppose you already know who i am."

jiah forces herself to meet his gaze. "you’re captain namjoon."

his smirk widens, approval glinting in his eyes. "smart girl."

his gaze drags over her, assessing. calculating.

"apparently, you’re not who we planned to take."

jiah doesn’t answer, jaw locking.

"but we’ll just have to adjust," he continues, voice casual, almost amused. "you’ve certainly caused quite a stir."

her fingers tighten on the railing. "let me go."

namjoon laughs.

it’s deep. warm. mocking.

"let you go?" he echoes, as if the very idea is ridiculous.

he steps even closer, towering over her now. she refuses to back away.

"and what exactly would i get in return?"

her heart pounds, but she lifts her chin. "avoiding a war sounds like a decent trade."

his brows lift, and then another smirk. "a war? you think you’re that important?"

"you wouldn’t have taken me if i wasn’t."

his smirk falters for just a second, and she knows she’s struck something.

but then, faster than she can react, he moves, leaning in, so close she can see the sharp glint in his eyes, the amusement, the challenge. his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"you’re in my world now, princess," he murmurs.

his breath brushes against her skin, warm, steady. calculated.

but she doesn’t shiver. doesn’t flinch. doesn’t give him the reaction he’s waiting for.

his smirk widens, slow and knowing. like he’s already figured her out. "better start acting like it."

princess.

the word drips from his tongue, laced with mockery, deliberate in the way it cuts. like he already knows she doesn’t belong, like he’s testing how far he can push before she cracks.

her fingers curl around the railing, nails pressing into the damp wood.

namjoon doesn’t step back.

he stays there, too close, closer than he needs to be. close enough that she can see the faint scar cutting across his collarbone, the way his shirt hangs open just enough to reveal the curve of muscle beneath golden skin.

close enough that she can smell him, salt and leather, a trace of smoke, something rich and dark beneath it. something that doesn’t belong to the sea, something that lingers, heady and intoxicating.

his presence is suffocating. commanding. overwhelming.

and she hates it.

she hates the way he carries himself, like he’s already won. she hates the way his expression never wavers, how he looks so sure of himself, so untouchable.

but most of all, she hates how much he looks like him. the version of him from the book. the ruthless, cunning captain who was supposed to break yiseo down piece by piece, bending her until she fit into his world.

but yiseo isn’t here.

jiah is.

and namjoon is looking at her like she’s something worth unraveling. like she’s a puzzle he plans to take apart, piece by careful piece.

her stomach twists.

"what do you want from me?" she forces out, her voice steady despite the way her pulse hammers beneath her skin.

namjoon finally steps back, just slightly, but his eyes don’t leave her. dark and unreadable, sharp as the edge of a blade.

"that depends."

he tilts his head, studying her like she’s some rare artifact, something to be appraised. something to be played with.

"what are you willing to give?"

jiah stiffens.

the words are a game, a trap dressed as a question, baiting her into an answer she’ll regret. she knows it. knows the way men like him operate, how they circle their prey, how they press just hard enough to see where the cracks begin.

before she can reply, another voice cuts through the space between them.

"stop toying with her, cap."

the tone is smooth. bored. but there’s something else beneath it, something searching.

jiah turns.

the man who spoke steps forward, eyes sharp despite his disinterest. he looks her over once, quick and assessing, before turning back to namjoon with a sigh.

she swallows hard, throat suddenly dry, but namjoon speaks before she can.

"we’re keeping her."

the words are simple. final.

jungkook, who’s been silent until now, tenses beside her. his fingers twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t speak right away. when he does, his voice is tight.

"for how long?"

namjoon’s smirk doesn’t falter.

"for as long as she’s useful."

jiah’s hands clench into fists.

"and if i’m not?"

namjoon doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t blink.

his smile is razor sharp.

"then i suggest you make yourself useful, princess."

heat flares up her spine, anger curling beneath her ribs.

she wants to hit him. wants to shove him back, wipe that smirk off his face.

wants to scream “take me back, let me go. you took the wrong person.”

but none of that will work.

because she knows namjoon.

knows how he thinks, how he operates.

knows that men like him don’t give in to pleas or demands. they only respect power.

so she does the only thing she can.

she lifts her chin, steadying her breath, forcing her expression into something unreadable. something cold.

"fine," she says smoothly, as if she isn’t rattled. as if she isn’t one wrong move away from breaking.

"what do you need?"

namjoon’s smile flickers.

just slightly.

like he wasn’t expecting that.

like he’s intrigued.

his gaze flickers to the man beside him.

"find something for her to do."

his crewmate sighs, running a hand through his hair. "you’re making me deal with her?"

namjoon shrugs. "you’re good at breaking in new recruits."

the man mutters something under his breath before jerking his chin toward her.

"come on, princess. let’s see if you can actually be useful."

jiah doesn’t move right away.

because she can feel it.

namjoon’s gaze, still heavy on her, still assessing.

calculating.

dangerous.

her pulse stutters.

but she doesn’t let it show.

instead, she turns without another word.

forces herself to follow the other man across the deck.

but even as she moves, even as she puts distance between them, she feels it.

the weight of namjoon’s stare, lingering, burning into her back.

and she knows.

this, whatever this is

is far from over.

the pirate leads her below deck, his grip on her wrist firm but not bruising. the wooden steps creak beneath their weight, the dim lanterns casting flickering shadows along the walls. the scent of damp wood and salt thickens the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something metallic. blood, maybe, or rust.

jiah swallows hard, forcing herself to stand tall despite the fatigue weighing on her limbs.

he doesn’t say a word until they’re deep in the underbelly of the ship, where the sounds of the waves are muffled, where the rocking is softer but the air feels heavier.

he finally stops in front of a small, dimly lit space cluttered with crates and barrels. the air is thick with the scent of damp wood and aged spice, the faint creak of the ship settling around them. he leans against a stack of cargo, arms crossing over his chest as he turns to face her.

"so?" his voice is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it. "what can you do, princess?"

jiah flinches at the word, irritation flaring in her chest.

"stop calling me that," she snaps.

he raises a brow, unimpressed. "why? it suits you."

she glares at him. "i am not a princess."

he tilts his head, considering her. "maybe not by title," he muses. "but you act like one. you’re delicate, soft. unfit for a place like this."

she grits her teeth. he doesn’t know anything about her. doesn’t know that she’s worked twelve-hour shifts in shitty diners, burned herself on stovetops, scrubbed grease from the floor until her nails cracked just to afford rent. he doesn’t know that she’s spent her life dragging herself forward, scraping by on nothing, that softness was never an option.

"i can clean," she mutters, voice clipped. "cook. sew."

hoseok’s expression doesn’t change. "so, a maid, then?"

her stomach twists.

because that’s what she is in this world. or at least was. because here,

here she’s not even that.

"i can work," she insists, lifting her chin. "just tell me what you need."

hoseok watches her for a long moment, the lantern light flickering in his dark eyes. then, with a quiet scoff, he pushes off the wall.

"fine," he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around them. "prove it."

"prove what?"

"that you can work." his lips curl into something that almost resembles a smirk. "let’s see how long you last."

he doesn’t say it with malice.

but there’s something in his tone, something knowing, that makes her stomach churn.

because it sounds like a challenge.

and she knows he doesn’t expect her to last at all.

“fine,” she says cooly. “then stop talking and let me work.”

his brows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. but then the smirk returns, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes.

"if you say so, princess."

before she can snap at him again, he moves. swift and effortless, like he belongs to the sway of the ship in a way she never could. he grabs a bucket, fills it with seawater, shoves it into her hands. a brush is pressed into her grip a second later, rough bristles scraping against her palm.

"deck needs scrubbing," he says, already turning away. "don’t stop until the wood shines."

jiah scowls, “seriously?”

he barely glances over his shoulder “and don’t even think about slacking off.”

then he’s gone, disappearing up the steps, leaving her standing there with a heavy bucket and the weight of his expectations pressing down on her.

her fingers tighten around the handle.

asshole.

the ship rocks beneath her feet, the scent of salt thick in the air, the murmur of voices and crash of waves a constant backdrop. around her, the crew moves like a well-oiled machine. climbing rigging, coiling ropes, shouting orders.

fine.

she drops to her knees, dipping the brush into the water before dragging it across the wood. it’s rough, splintering in places, and the salt stings against the cuts on her hands, but she grits her teeth and keeps going.

the water seeps into her already damp clothes, the salt stinging her hands where the skin is raw. the bristles of the brush are coarse, scraping against her fingers as she works.

the sun beats down overhead, relentless, turning the deck into a scorching stretch of wood that radiates heat beneath her knees. sweat beads along her hairline, slipping down her spine, soaking into the already-damp fabric of her dress. she swipes at her forehead with the back of her hand, but it does nothing to stop the way her skin sticks uncomfortably to the coarse material.

the waves crash against the side of the ship, a steady, mocking rhythm, their unyielding force a cruel reminder of just how trapped she is. no land, no escape, no one coming to save her. just the endless expanse of ocean stretching in every direction, swallowing any hope she might have left.

no one pays her any mind.

the crew moves around her with practiced ease, stepping over her, around her, barely sparing a glance in her direction. voices rise and fall. commands shouted, laughter exchanged, boots thudding against the planks but she isn’t part of their world. she’s just another set of hands, another body meant to do what she’s told.

except for jungkook.

she feels his eyes on her.

not hovering, not close enough to intervene but watching.

she doesn’t understand why.

is he waiting for her to fail? to crumble under the weight of exhaustion and inexperience? or is it something else? a test, a warning, something she can’t quite name?

she doesn’t have the energy to care.

because her arms ache, the repetitive motion of scrubbing burning through muscles she hasn’t used like this before. her back screams with every shift, her shoulders tense and tight from the awkward angle. the salt stings against the raw patches on her hands, the bristles of the brush digging into her torn skin, but she bites down on the pain, forces herself to keep going.

the alternative isn’t an option.

but she still has no idea how she’s supposed to survive this.

when the sun finally dips below the horizon, the sky bleeds into deep shades of amber and indigo, casting long shadows across the deck. the heat lingers in the wood, in her skin, in the ache of her muscles that protest every slight movement. her arms feel like lead, fingers trembling from exhaustion, the sting of salt and raw skin a constant, throbbing presence.

she hears his footsteps before she sees him.

measured, unhurried.

the pirate crouches beside her, one knee pressing into the deck as he drags his fingertips along the freshly scrubbed wood. she watches, breath caught in her throat, waiting, though for what, she isn’t sure.

he exhales through his nose.

"not bad," he mutters.

the words aren’t kind. they’re not even close to praise. but something in the begrudging approval makes something in her chest tighten, an odd flicker of satisfaction curling low in her stomach.

but then he stands, stretching his arms overhead before tossing the brush back at her without a second glance. she barely catches it, her fingers closing around the worn handle on instinct.

"get some rest," he says. "we start again at dawn."

her grip tightens.

she should just nod. should just take what little relief she’s being given and drag herself to whatever corner of the ship she’s expected to sleep in.

but she doesn’t.

instead, she lifts her chin, ignoring the way her entire body protests the movement, forcing steel into her spine.

"i’ll be ready."

he pauses.

his gaze flickers to her, unreadable in the dim light.

for a moment, he just looks at her.

then, a quiet scoff, barely more than a breath.

he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he turns away.

jiah doesn’t hear it.

but she swears,

for just a second,

his lips almost twitch into a smile.

seokjin is furious.

the kind of fury that tightens like a vice around his chest, hot and suffocating, pressing against his ribs with every breath. it coils beneath his skin, sharp and restless, demanding an outlet he refuses to give it.

the room feels smaller with it, thick with the weight of his anger. the flickering candlelight does nothing to soften the hard set of his jaw, the rigid line of his shoulders. he doesn’t sit. doesn’t move from where he stands, fingers splayed against the heavy wooden table as he stares down at the map in front of him.

but there is nothing to see.

because there is nothing there.

no leads. no trail. no answers.

only silence.

only the same useless, tired excuses, “the pirates vanished into the night, no one has seen them since.”

his nails press into the grain of the wood. useless. all of them.

yoongi shifts beside him, arms crossed, watching. his expression is unreadable, but there’s something else there. something pointed, something edged with quiet, simmering frustration.

"we need a plan," he says, voice measured. "charging blindly into this is—"

"you think i don’t know that?" seokjin snaps, lifting his head, his eyes flashing.

yoongi doesn’t flinch. doesn’t look away.

"then act like it," he says, calm and unwavering.

seokjin exhales sharply through his nose, turning away. pacing. his fists clench at his sides, the fabric of his tunic pulling taut across his shoulders. logic means nothing right now. reason means nothing. because reason won’t bring her back.

he should have anticipated this. he should have known better. the princess was always reckless, always too self-assured, too convinced of her own invincibility. but it’s not her he’s thinking about. not her face that lingers in his mind, wide-eyed and terrified, stolen away into the night.

it’s jiah.

yoongi watches him, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. when he speaks again, his voice is quieter.

"this isn’t like you," he says. "you don’t let emotions cloud your judgment."

seokjin’s jaw tightens.

yoongi tilts his head, slow and deliberate, studying him the way he studies battle formations, searching for a weak point.

"so tell me," he murmurs, voice just shy of mocking. "why are you so angry over a maid?"

the air shifts.

seokjin stills.

his fingers twitch at his sides.

the candle wavers, throwing jagged light across his face, illuminating the sharp set of his cheekbones, the taut line of his mouth.

he doesn’t answer.

because there is no answer.

or maybe, maybe there is.

but he refuses to give it voice.

the silence stretches.

thick. suffocating.

yoongi doesn’t press, but his eyes are steady, waiting.

seokjin exhales sharply, turning away, forcing his hands to unclench. "she was taken from under my watch," he says, voice controlled, clipped. "that alone is reason enough."

yoongi hums, unimpressed. "a single maid? since when do you care about things like that?"

"i don’t," seokjin snaps before he can stop himself.

and yoongi smiles.

not wide, not gloating, just a slight curve of his lips, sharp and knowing.

"i know," he says simply.

seokjin's pulse pounds.

his teeth clench.

he wants to argue. wants to tell yoongi he's wrong, that this is nothing, that she is nothing, just a servant who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

but the words don't come.

because it would be a lie.

and yoongi would see right through it.

the general sighs, pushing off the table, rolling out his shoulders. "you're wasting time," he says, back to business, as if they hadn't just been standing at the edge of something dangerous. "if we're going to find them, we need to move now."

seokjin inhales slowly. forces the tension from his shoulders.

he doesn't have time for this.

he doesn't have time for her.

all that matters is getting her back.

and when he does,

he'll figure out the rest later.

yoongi doesn’t respond right away. he just watches, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. the flickering candlelight throws shadows across his face, sharpening the sharp, assessing glint in his eyes.

seokjin knows that look.

knows that yoongi is weighing his words, measuring his reaction, calculating what this really means.

it grates on him.

"you have a fiancée," yoongi says at last, voice even, controlled.

seokjin’s jaw tightens. "and?"

yoongi tilts his head. "and you should be worried about her."

something inside seokjin snaps.

"the princess isn’t her," he bites out, sharp and cold.

yoongi’s expression doesn’t shift, but seokjin knows him well enough to catch the slight twitch of his fingers, the subtle flex of his jaw.

irritation.

good.

let him be irritated.

because this is different.

seokjin has never cared about princess yiseo. never felt anything beyond obligation, beyond duty. she’s the perfect match, the one meant to stand by his side, and yet,

she has never made his pulse stutter.

never left him raw with frustration and something else he doesn’t want to name.

never haunted him the way jiah does.

yoongi exhales through his nose, slow and measured. "you don’t even know if she’s still alive."

seokjin’s fingers twitch.

yoongi’s gaze sharpens, catching the movement, cataloging it like a hawk.

he steps closer, dropping his voice. "that is what I mean, hyung. you don’t act like this. you don’t lose your temper. you don’t—" he exhales, the irritation curling in his chest breaking through. "—care."

seokjin stiffens.

yoongi holds his gaze, unyielding. "so tell me. why her?"

the words claw at seokjin’s throat, but he shoves them down, buries them under ice.

he turns sharply, pushing past yoongi without another word.

because the truth is—

he doesn’t have an answer.

yoongi doesn’t stop him.

doesn’t call after him, doesn’t demand an explanation.

but seokjin feels his stare, sharp and unrelenting, digging into his back as he strides away.

he pushes past the guards, past the lingering nobles who shrink away at the storm in his expression. his steps echo through the stone corridors, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts he refuses to acknowledge.

but no matter how fast he walks, how hard he tries to bury it, one thing lingers.

yoongi’s question.

why her?

it should be easy to dismiss. she’s a maid, an outsider, a nobody. a person he shouldn’t have even spared a second glance.

but the second she was gone,

his hands clench into fists.

the second she was gone, it felt like something ripped out of him.

he exhales sharply, trying to force the tension from his muscles, trying to think.

the pirates were ghosts. no tracks, no trails, no patterns to follow. namjoon was too smart for that. and if seokjin couldn’t find him…

his teeth grind together.

then he’d have to draw him out.

he stops abruptly, pivoting on his heel. the guards stationed outside his chambers snap to attention, but he waves them off.

"fetch the council," he orders. "wake whoever you have to. i want a meeting now."

they don’t hesitate. they rush off, boots pounding against the stone.

seokjin inhales slowly, steadying himself.

if he can’t find her—

his jaw tightens.

then he’ll make sure she’s returned to him.

whatever it takes.

the ship is never truly silent, even at night. the waves gnaw at the hull, relentless and hungry, their rhythm a constant reminder that they are at the mercy of the sea. ropes creak under the shifting wind, strained and swaying, whispering secrets into the dark. the lanterns flicker with every gust, casting long, wavering shadows across the deck.

somewhere, muffled through the wood, the crew is still awake. rough voices slurred with rum, laughter spilling into the night like the embers of a dying fire. there’s a certain ease to it, the kind that comes after a successful raid, after full bellies and heavy coin purses.

but here, away from the others, away from the warmth of camaraderie,

the air is different. heavier.

the salt tastes sharper. the silence between the sounds stretches thinner.

hoseok stands by the railing, arms crossed, his posture easy, relaxed. but jungkook isn’t fooled. his gaze is locked on the dark horizon, jaw set, expression unreadable.

still. watchful.

jungkook knows that look.

his shoulders tense, fingers flexing against the railing.

he’s being watched.

"you’re acting different," hoseok says, voice low.

jungkook doesn’t react. he doesn’t let himself react.

"don’t know what you mean," he mutters, forcing indifference.

hoseok exhales, a sharp sound. "please." he turns to face jungkook fully now, eyes flickering with something pointed. "don’t insult me. it’s her, isn’t it?"

jungkook’s grip tightens against the railing, fingers curling around the worn wood. the salt-stained surface digs into his palm, grounding him, keeping him still when everything inside him bristles at hoseok’s scrutiny.

he keeps his expression even. steady. unaffected.

"who?"

hoseok doesn’t answer right away. he doesn’t need to. the look he gives him is enough, flat, knowing, unimpressed. like he can see right through him, past the forced indifference, past the carefully measured tone.

jungkook exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, but it does nothing to steady the hammering in his chest. his pulse betrays him, loud and insistent, like it wants to claw its way free.

his eyes flicker toward the lower deck. toward her.

she should be asleep by now, exhaustion weighing her down after hours of scrubbing, after proving, again and again, that she could survive this place.

but he wonders.

wonders if she’s still awake.

if she’s curled up somewhere, arms wrapped around herself against the night’s chill. if her body aches, if her fingers are still raw from the day’s work. if her mind is racing the way his is now, caught in an endless loop, unable to rest.

his jaw tightens.

he shouldn’t care. he knows he shouldn’t.

but knowing doesn’t stop the way his thoughts keep circling back to her. doesn’t stop the pull, slow and steady, like a current dragging him toward something he shouldn’t want.

hoseok doesn’t miss the way jungkook’s gaze lingers.

his eyes narrow, sharp in the moonlight. “you’re too interested,” he says, voice edged with something unreadable.

jungkook finally looks away, jaw tight. “and you’re too suspicious.”

hoseok lets out a quiet scoff, pushing off the railing. he doesn’t drop it. doesn’t look away. “she’s not one of us.”

there’s no malice in his tone. no outright hostility. just a simple fact, laid bare between them.

jungkook grits his teeth. “neither are you.”

it’s a cheap shot. he knows it, and jungkook almost expects him to lash out, to remind him exactly who holds the upper hand.

but hoseok just watches him, unreadable.

because the truth lingers between them like smoke.

hoseok chose this life.

jungkook was saved by it.

and jiah,

jiah was thrown into it.

against her will.

the words land like a blade between them, sharp and deliberate. hoseok stills, but only for a second.

then, he laughs. low and humorless. “careful.” his voice is lighter now, but jungkook doesn’t miss the edge beneath it. “you’re starting to sound like you actually care.”

jungkook doesn’t answer.

because he doesn’t.

he can’t.

but the silence stretches between them, thick with something unspoken.

hoseok tilts his head, studying him, like he’s putting something together.

then he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “whatever you’re thinking,” he says, voice dropping lower, “stop.”

jungkook tenses.

“she’s not one of us,” hoseok repeats. slower this time. more deliberate. “and we both know she never will be.”

jungkook doesn’t reply.

doesn’t move.

but his grip tightens against the railing again, knuckles white in the dim light.

hoseok lingers a second longer, gaze flickering over him once more before he finally turns, footsteps fading into the quiet hum of the night.

jungkook stays where he is.

still.

silent.

but his pulse is a storm in his veins, and his thoughts, his thoughts,

they refuse to settle.

he stays like that for a long time.

long after hoseok disappears below deck, long after the echoes of laughter from the crew fade into the wind.

the ship sways beneath him, steady and unyielding, but jungkook feels unmoored.

because hoseok is right.

she isn’t one of them.

she wasn’t meant for this life.

but when he closes his eyes, he doesn’t see a girl out of place, fragile and lost.

he sees her shoulders squared in defiance; chin lifted despite the exhaustion weighing her down. he sees her fingers raw from scrubbing the deck, trembling but never stopping. he sees the way she stood in front of namjoon, unflinching, fire in her eyes even when she should have been afraid.

she should be afraid.

and yet,

his grip tightens on the railing, jaw clenching.

he doesn’t care.

he shouldn’t care.

but even now, his thoughts drift toward the lower deck.

toward her.

is she asleep? curled into herself for warmth, aching from a day spent working to prove herself? does she dream of escape, of home wherever that is?

or is she still awake?

thinking. wondering.

just like he is.

jungkook exhales sharply, shoving the thoughts away.

it doesn’t matter.

hoseok’s warning lingers in his mind, heavy and undeniable.

she isn’t one of us.

she never will be.

his fingers drum against the railing, restless.

he stays there, watching the horizon, until the first hints of dawn begin to bleed into the sky.

taehyung moved quickly.

he had no other choice.

the ship was unfamiliar, but darkness cloaked him, and the sounds of the sea masked his footsteps as he slipped below deck. he needed to change, needed to make sure no one would recognize him if they looked too closely.

his fingers skimmed the rough wooden walls as he moved deeper, breath shallow, ears straining for any sign of movement. most of the crew was still above, drinking, gambling, laughing over whatever riches they had taken from their last raid. but that wouldn’t last forever. he had to act now.

a faint glimmer caught his eye. a flickering lantern left near an open crate. taehyung crept forward, kneeling to rummage through its contents. his pulse leapt when his hand closed around the hilt of a dagger.

perfect.

he dragged it out, examining the blade in the dim light. it was sharp enough. without hesitation, he brought it to his hair, sawing through the dark strands. the locks fell to the floor in uneven clumps, but he didn’t care about precision. he just needed to change. to become someone new.

when he was done, his hair was jagged, shorn shorter than it had ever been.

but it wasn’t enough.

taehyung’s mind raced, thinking back to the docks, to the tricks he had picked up from old sailors. how they hid their identities when they needed to disappear. he scanned the room, eyes catching on a barrel in the corner, marked with a sigil he recognized.

oak bark. perfect.

he pried the lid off, wincing as the scent hit him, earthy and bitter. but it would work. quickly, he grabbed a handful, crushed the bark between his palms, and mixed it with the water left in a nearby jug. the liquid darkened to a murky, coppery hue.

taking a steadying breath, he tipped his head forward and poured.

the mixture seeped into his hair, streaking it into uneven shades of golden-brown. it wasn’t perfect, but it would do. in the dim light of the ship, no one would question it.

he straightened, wiping excess dye from his neck. his reflection in the metal of the dagger was unrecognizable. rough, messy, not the stable boy who had once dreamed of something bigger.

good.

he couldn’t be that boy anymore.

not if he wanted to survive. not if he wanted to protect her.

his fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger.

no matter what it takes.

taehyung took a slow breath, forcing his hands to steady. the weight of the dagger in his grip felt grounding, even as his pulse pounded in his ears.

he didn’t have time to waste.

carefully, he wiped his hands clean against his already-dirty tunic and stepped back into the corridor, slipping into the shadows before anyone could spot him.

the ship groaned with the movement of the waves, the wood beneath his feet shifting slightly. voices rumbled above deck, muted laughter, the occasional shout, but down here, it was quieter.

jiah.

he swallowed hard, gripping the dagger tighter. he hadn’t seen her since she was dragged aboard, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. was she hurt? locked away? had she already been forced into servitude, scrubbing the deck under some bastard’s watchful eye?

his jaw tightened. he had to find her.

but first, he needed to secure his place here.

he couldn’t help her if he was caught. couldn’t protect her if they tossed him overboard the second they realized he didn’t belong.

his best chance was to blend in, to slip into the rhythm of the crew without raising suspicion. he had spent years watching the pirates that drifted through the docks, listening to their stories, studying their movements. now, it was time to put that knowledge to use.

he needed supplies. a proper weapon. a place to sleep.

but most importantly,

he needed to find out who held the power here.

who he had to fool.

his feet carried him further down the corridor, toward the storeroom where he had seen a few pirates disappear earlier. if he was lucky, he could snatch a weapon, maybe some clothes to replace his own. something that made him look less like an outsider.

but as he turned the corner, he barely had time to react before a figure stepped into his path.

taehyung’s breath caught.

the man was taller, lean but strong, his sharp features cast in shadow from the dim lantern light. and his eyes, dark and piercing, immediately locked onto taehyung like a predator sizing up prey.

taehyung forced himself to stand his ground.

the pirate tilted his head, gaze flickering over him.

“you new?”

the question was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but.

taehyung’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his dagger.

this was it.

his first test.

he forced a smirk, shifting his stance to mimic the confidence he had seen in other pirates.

“been here,” he lied smoothly. “just kept my head down.”

the pirate hummed, unconvinced.

taehyung’s pulse roared in his ears.

then, after a long beat, the man shrugged.

“smart.” he moved past him, uninterested.

taehyung let out a slow breath, relief barely taking hold before the man’s voice came again,

“you want to stay on this ship?”

taehyung glanced back.

the pirate’s smirk was sharp.

“you’d better prove you belong.”

and then he was gone, leaving taehyung standing there, the unspoken threat lingering in the air.

he exhaled, fingers still tight around his dagger.

right. blend in first.

jiah second.

his stomach twisted at the thought of her—alone, unaware that he was here.

but he’d get to her.

he had to.

taehyung kept his head down, hands moving with practiced ease as he coiled a length of rope, careful to make himself look useful. invisible.

he had survived the first day. no one had questioned him yet.

but he knew better than to think he was safe.

especially when he felt his eyes on him.

taehyung didn’t have to look to know who it was.

jungkook.

the man he had faced countless times in the dead of night, voices hushed beneath the creak of the docks. the man who had pressed him for information, who had slipped him gold in exchange for whispers of royal movements, of weak spots in the palace’s defenses. the man who had always left before the sun could rise, before the weight of his choices could settle.

jungkook, who now stood just a few feet away, watching him with an intensity that sent ice through his veins.

taehyung’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his borrowed clothes.

did he know?

had his betrayal only one night ago already been broadcasted to the crew?

taehyung had spent the past day watching the pirate he fought, waiting for the slip, the accusation, the moment someone grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the captain.

but it never came.

so why was he looking at him like he knew something was off.

taehyung swallowed hard, forcing himself to move, to keep his body loose, unbothered. he reached for a coil of rope, pretending to busy himself with it, pretending not to feel the weight of jungkook’s stare burrowing into his skin.

but his mind was racing.

jungkook shouldn’t recognize him. not like this.

his face was different. his hair was different.

but secrets traded in shadows were a dangerous thing.

and jungkook had always been sharp enough to cut through lies.

the weight of his stare was heavy, pressing against him like a blade at his back.

his pulse kicked up, but he didn’t let it show.

instead, he focused on his work, forcing his muscles to stay loose, his movements unhurried. he couldn’t afford to slip, not now.

but jungkook didn’t look away.

taehyung could feel it. the scrutiny, the slow unraveling of whatever fragile disguise he had managed to weave.

jungkook knows.

or maybe not knows, but suspects.

because there was no reason for his attention to linger like this. no reason for the way his expression had hardened, gaze sharp as he studied taehyung from across the deck.

the realization sent a jolt of cold down his spine.

he needed to get away.

without drawing attention, taehyung adjusted his grip on the rope, shifting as if he were simply repositioning himself, then turned on his heel.

but before he could disappear into the shadows,

“you.”

taehyung froze.

his stomach twisted, breath catching in his throat.

slowly, he turned back around, schooling his expression into something neutral as he met jungkook’s gaze.

up close, the scrutiny was worse.

jungkook wasn’t just looking at him. he was studying him. dark eyes flickering over every detail. his stance, his face, the way his fingers twitched at his sides. searching. picking him apart, piece by piece.

taehyung held his ground, even as the weight of that stare made his skin prickle.

“what?” he said, keeping his tone flat, edged with disinterest.

jungkook’s head tilted, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

“you new?”

the same question as before.

but this time, from someone who wouldn’t be so quick to accept a lie.

taehyung’s pulse pounded in his throat. his fingers twitched at his sides, but he kept his voice steady.

“been here,” he muttered, the same answer he had given before. “just kept my head down.”

jungkook didn’t react right away.

he just stared. unwavering. unreadable.

taehyung could hear the crash of the waves, the distant voices of the crew, the pounding of his own heartbeat. too loud. too fast.

jungkook’s eyes flickered.

for a fraction of a second, something passed through them. something sharp. something knowing. something like recognition.

taehyung felt the blood drain from his face.

jungkook's gaze sharpened, the shift almost imperceptible but taehyung felt it.

his breath turned shallow. his fingers curled at his sides, ready to reach for the dagger tucked into his belt if it came to that.

"where'd you come from?" jungkook asked, voice deceptively casual.

but there was something underneath it. something pointed.

taehyung forced himself to shrug. "around."

jungkook hummed. a low, thoughtful sound.

"around." he repeated, dragging the word out like he was testing it, like he didn’t quite believe it.

the space between them felt smaller. suffocating.

taehyung knew this feeling.

he had faced jungkook before, standing on the docks under the cover of night, slipping coins into his palm in exchange for secrets, whispering names and movements and places to avoid.

but now, there was no gold. no distance. no guarantee of safety.

"what’s your name?"

taehyung's jaw tightened.

he had been careful. he hadn't spoken to anyone unless necessary, hadn't drawn attention to himself. had hoseok told the crew about his betrayal?

his mind raced through possibilities, searching for an escape.

"tan," he said finally. short. clipped. something nondescript enough not to raise more suspicion.

jungkook let the name settle between them. his expression didn’t change, but his fingers tapped once against the hilt of his sword.

"tan, huh?"

the way he said it made taehyung’s stomach drop.

it wasn’t disbelief.

it was interest.

and that was somehow worse.

jungkook's lips curled, just barely, the ghost of something unreadable flickering across his face.

"well then, tan," he murmured, stepping back. "keep your head down, yeah?"

his voice was smooth. too smooth.

like he was giving him a warning.

taehyung swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod.

he turned without another word, walking away with steady steps, willing himself not to look back.

but he could feel it.

jungkook’s eyes, still watching him.

taehyung didn’t let himself breathe until he was out of sight.

he turned a corner, slipping behind a stack of barrels, pressing his back against the wood as he forced the tension out of his shoulders. his hands were steady at his sides, but his pulse was a thunderous drum in his ears.

jungkook knew.

not entirely. not yet.

but he felt something was off. taehyung had seen it in the way his expression tightened, in the way his eyes lingered, in the way he said his name, dragging it out like he was turning it over in his mind, like he was placing it somewhere he had heard before.

he squeezed his eyes shut.

i should’ve been more careful.

but it was too late for that now.

his fingers curled into his palms. if jungkook had recognized him, he hadn’t acted on it. he could’ve pressed harder, could’ve dragged him by the collar to the quartermaster, could’ve ended this before taehyung even had the chance to figure out what to do next.

but he hadn’t.

and taehyung didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

because it meant that jungkook wasn’t certain yet.

but it also meant that he would be watching.

he exhaled sharply, forcing his thoughts to slow. panic wouldn’t help him now. he had made it this far. he had blended in. he had managed to survive another day.

but tomorrow?

his jaw clenched.

tomorrow, he would have to be smarter.

because jungkook was sharp. sharp enough to pick him out of a crowd, sharp enough to pick at the loose threads of his story, sharp enough to unravel him piece by piece until he had nothing left to hide behind.

keep your head down, jungkook had told him.

taehyung swallowed hard.

he didn’t know if he still had the choice.

jiah stumbles into the small, cramped space that serves as her room, barely mustering the strength to shut the door behind her. her body feels like lead, weighed down by exhaustion, by the ache that lingers in every muscle. her hands throb, raw from scrubbing, her back burns from the relentless sun, and her legs threaten to buckle beneath her with every step.

she doesn’t remember the last time she was this tired.

no, that’s not true. she does.

late nights after double shifts at that dingy little café, dragging herself home long after the streets had emptied. the hours she spent on her feet, serving tables, scrubbing counters, smiling through the exhaustion because rent was due, because tuition wasn’t going to pay itself.

but this?

this is worse.

because this isn’t just exhaustion. this is survival.

she exhales shakily, forcing herself to move toward the cot, already anticipating the relief of sinking onto it, of letting her body go limp for just a moment. she doesn’t even care about the stiff mattress, about the way the ship creaks and sways beneath her. sleep, for the first time since she set foot on this cursed vessel, feels within reach.

she barely even notices the stack of clothes in the corner.

at first.

but as she passes by, her fingers brush against the fabric, and she stops.

her brows knit together.

slowly, she reaches down, lifting the garments. they’re soft but well-worn, the material sturdy, practical. she shakes them out, and it doesn’t take long for her to realize they’re massive.

too big for her, clearly meant for a man.

confusion flickers in the haze of her exhaustion. did the crew leave these for her? was this some unspoken gesture, some acknowledgment that she was at least useful enough to be given proper clothes?

the scent of the clothes hits her hard.

her breath catches.

it’s faint but unmistakable, woven into the very fabric. salt and smoke, deep and earthy, laced with something warmer, something rich and familiar.

something that makes her stomach twist, that sends unease curling at the base of her spine.

she knows this scent.

it’s the kind that lingers, clings to skin and clothes, that buries itself into memory until it’s impossible to forget. the kind she’s smelled before—too close, too familiar, a presence she can’t quite place but knows she should.

her fingers tighten around the fabric.

who left these here?

but exhaustion drags at her thoughts, dulls the sharp edge of suspicion. the questions are there, lingering just beneath the surface. who left these? why? but they slip through her grasp like sand through open fingers. she’s too tired to chase them, too drained to follow the twisting paths her mind wants to take.

whoever it was, they were already gone.

and right now, that’s all that matters.

her fingers fumble with the laces of her dress, her movements clumsy, sluggish. the fabric clings to her skin, damp with sweat and stiff with dried seawater. she peels it off, wincing as the rough material scrapes against her sore arms, her aching shoulders. every inch of her feels battered, weighed down by the day’s labor, by the sun, by the unrelenting strain of keeping herself together.

the dress lands in a crumpled heap at her feet, and she doesn’t look at it.

instead, she reaches for the borrowed clothes, slipping the shirt over her head. the fabric is softer than she expected, worn thin in places, but clean, blessedly clean. it falls past her hips, swallowing her frame. the trousers are just as oversized, cinched tightly at the waist, the cuffs pooling around her ankles.

she exhales, pressing her fingers against the loose folds of fabric, letting the warmth settle against her skin.

it’s strange, wearing something that doesn’t belong to her, something so obviously not hers. there’s an unfamiliar weight to it, a foreignness that lingers, but at the same time… it’s almost comforting. the fabric carries traces of heat, of body warmth that isn’t hers, and the scent clings stubbornly, woven into every fiber.

salt and smoke. something faintly metallic, like steel warmed by the sun. something deeper, richer, leather, maybe, or the faintest trace of spice.

she doesn’t know why it feels familiar.

she only knows that it does.

the thought unsettles her.

her hands move absently, adjusting the sleeves that fall far past her wrists, rolling the fabric up so her fingers are free. but as she shifts, as she pulls the trousers higher on her waist, the unease creeps back in, curling at the edges of her awareness.

because these aren’t just any clothes.

they belong to someone.

someone on this ship.

someone close enough to leave them for her, to think to leave them for her.

and yet, she never saw who. never heard them come in, never noticed their presence.

her pulse quickens.

her breath catches.

and for the first time since stepping onto this cursed ship, since realizing she had no way out, she feels something cold slither down her spine.

a reminder.

she is not alone.

but as she shifts, adjusting the sleeves that hang past her wrists, the unease creeps back in.

because someone left these here.

someone, him.

whoever he is.

before she can dwell on it, before she can even begin to untangle the knot forming in her chest,

the footsteps come.

slow. deliberate. each step measured, unhurried, carrying the weight of someone who knows exactly where they’re going. someone who isn’t searching, isn’t wandering.

someone who means to be here.

they stop just outside her door.

jiah goes rigid, breath locking in her throat, blood roaring in her ears. her fingers tighten around the too-long sleeves of the borrowed shirt, her knuckles going white.

the silence that follows is worse.

thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides. she can’t even hear the usual creak of the ship, the whisper of waves against the hull. it’s as if the world outside this room has disappeared, leaving only this moment, this impossible stretch of time where she can do nothing but wait.

her pulse hammers.

one second.

two.

three.

then��

the door creaks open.

slowly, the wood groaning beneath the weight of movement, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the cramped space. a shadow stretches across the floor, long and uneven, cast by the lantern swinging just beyond the doorway.

her stomach knots.

she can’t move, can’t breathe.

because whoever is standing there, whoever has come for her, is just beyond the threshold.

and they aren’t saying a word.

authors note: hey, i hope everyone is doing amazing !! this part is lowkey also very fillerish, after all of the action of the last chapter i had to take a step back and start setting up the next major events !!

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[evillemons]

Hi! Do you think the bts members have a certain age limit on the people they would date? Not sure if you’ve done a headcanons on this yet :D

Hi! I wrote about this briefly in their ideal type posts, but to add an elaboration:

What ages the BTS members would date

RM - Maturity level is of utmost importance to Namjoon. So while he would date someone maybe 2-3 years younger than him or the same age, I could also see him with a much older woman, possibly as much as 7 years or so. Life experience, emotional maturity, and ability to be introspective is the key, more so than age as a number. Although, he would find dating an older woman incredibly sexy. So at his current age of 30: ages 27-37.

SUGA - I am inclined to say that age is absolutely irrelevant when it comes to love for Yoongi, but realistically there would still be a cap. Like Joon, mental age is more important than physical age. He wouldn't have a problem dating someone younger if they were compatible (maybeee as young as 25, any younger would feel like a sibling to him), and he would definitely be okay with someone quite a bit older, by 8-9 years even. At his current age of 31: 25-40 (a large range, but I think that suits him).

V - It would be unlikely for Taehyung to date someone older than him, as he would lose that sense of protectiveness he loves to provide (especially because Korea is so sensitive to the age hierarchy). Someone younger, definitely. It would allow him to teach her about life and feel secure in his provider role. Old enough to be out of college and in her career though, as someone too naive might feel burdensome or annoying to him. At his current age of 28: 23-29.

j-hope - Age isn't a huge deciding factor for Hoseok, although I see him most likely with someone close in age to him. It would be ideal for him to have a partner in the same stage of life he is (even if they live a completely different lifestyle and/or career), as he wouldn't want to be a teacher for someone younger and would feel insecure with someone too much older. At his current age of 30: 27-32.

Jungkook - I think Jungkook would be content dating someone within about 5 years of him, older or younger. Someone younger would allow him to feel protective an authoritative, while someone older would be able to act as a source of guidance for him (and it would be super hot). He could adapt to either someone more experienced, or someone who has never dated before. At his current age of 27: 22-32.

Jimin - Jimin seems he would have a preference for women who are younger and cuter. He would also date someone the same age as him, but absolutely not older. An older woman, even by a year, might make him feel insecure or inadequate and like he needs to act a certain way around her. At his current age of 28: 23-28.

Jin - Like Jimin and Tae, Jin would heavily prefer to date someone younger, as fulfilling the traditional Korean relationship dynamic is important to him. A woman one year older might be ok as long as she is the housewife type and doesn't use her age as leverage. However, even if she is young, he would still want her to be relatively mature and settled. At his current age of 31: 25-32.