#poly houses manufacturers

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky. 

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well. 

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility. 

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs. 

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home. 

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered. 

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack. 

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look. 

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.  

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly. 

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.” 

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision. 

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball. 

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided. 

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser. 

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out. 

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond. 

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you. 

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended. 

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed. 

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly. 

“The nose knows,” you shrugged. 

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds. 

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell. 

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked. 

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back. 

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would. 

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs. 

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to. 

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye. 

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.   

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog. 

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor. 

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered. 

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life. 

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you. 

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low. 

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him. 

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird. 

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you. 

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off. 

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed. 

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something. 

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target. 

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off. 

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one. 

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive. 

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar. 

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt! 

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him. 

Protect. Mine. Kill threat. 

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding. 

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward. 

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall. 

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above. 

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer. 

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms. 

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers. 

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine. 

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt. 

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer. 

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse. 

Your panting breaths eased. 

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined. 

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second. 

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie. 

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.  

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it. 

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you. 

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before. 

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped. 

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted. 

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously. 

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance. 

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do. 

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression. 

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread. 

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin. 

“I reckon so,” Ghost said. 

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore. 

You couldn’t make sense of it. 

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones. 

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable. 

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again. 

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence. 

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook. 

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.” 

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice. 

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back. 

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice. 

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.” 

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.” 

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly  as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you. 

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.  

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level. 

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right. 

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you? 

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now. 

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead. 

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin. 

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. 

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him. 

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room. 

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing  teammates would say. 

It made you smile then. 

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Jungkook

Jungkook has to take care of a few things, and he makes a mess.

Or, the one with Jungkook, a cocktail of drugs, a bandolier of kunai knives, and 15 dead men.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Jungkook x a male stranger, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 8.5k

🗡️ mafia au, complicated relationships, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: discussion of drug use and manufacturing (mdma/ecstasy, methamphetamines, amphetamines); mention of homeless people being thought of as disposable; actual drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy laced with meth, all while drinking whiskey); use of molotov cocktail as a weapon; hand-to-hand combat; graphic knife violence & broken glass used as a weapon; killing 15 men; getting stabbed but not too badly; plenty of my annoying sense of humor.

🗡️ note: hello! welcome to the character pov chapters! these used to be locked behind a paywall but tbh i don't feel good asking people for money, so i am setting them free (cue Jimin.) this chapter is possibly my favorite written chapter for all of Collateral, and it is gory as all hell. i hope you love it!!!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - but it has undergone some pretty big non-beta'd edits

🗡️ posted feb. 2024 - originally sept. 2022 | read on ao3

The sounds of Jeongguk grunting while his fists repeatedly hit his punching bag are all that can be heard in his spacious home. So when Jeongguk glances up to find this morning's hookup standing against the frame of the hallway entrance in light blue boxer shorts, he startles, and, in a flash, pulls his gun from the holster around his hips. 

The man jumps and throws his hands in the air while Jeongguk sighs and shakes his head, recalling who he is. He reaches back and slides the barrel of his weapon into place at the small of his back.

"Why are you still here?" Jeongguk asks, returning to punching the red sand-filled bag that hangs from the ceiling of his mostly empty living room.

Sweat runs down Jeongguk's face and neck, sticking his hair to his forehead. He wears his hip holster, a pair of black basketball shorts, and nothing else. With each strike of his bare skin against the bag, his knuckles sting.

"That's no way to speak to the guy who sucked your soul through your dick this morning," the man teases, and Jeongguk grimaces as he looks at the man, who grins.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "I never even learned your name. It's not that serious."

The man opens his mouth as if to respond, but Jeongguk raises his hand and says, "I don't want to fucking know. Be on your way."

For a brief moment, the man just stands and stares owlishly with his mouth gaping open, and Jeongguk resists the urge to pull his gun on him once more. Then the man shifts around on his feet and mutters, "You drove us here," with a dejected frown.

Jeongguk sighs with vexation. He pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs around through his contacts, and calls Hoseok, who answers after the second ring.

"Ggukie bun, to what do I owe the pleasure?" It sounds like Hoseok has his phone on speaker, which means he is most likely driving.

"Hyung, are you busy? I need someone driven home."

"I happen to be on my way back to the property now. Gimme ten? Gonna pick up Seokjin and then I'll swing by."

"Sounds good. Thank you, hyung."

Hoseok chuckles, says, "My pleasure, little bro," and hangs up.

Jeongguk shoves his phone back into his pocket and nods toward the front door, saying, "Your ride will be here in ten. You can wait outside."

With a huff, the man turns on his heels and walks back down the hallway to the guest room from which he came. Irritated, Jeongguk abandons his workout and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water. His house is a spacious and open concept with black countertops and silver appliances, all of which are pristine and practically empty.

Jeongguk pulls a tall, thin glass from the rack beside the sink, fills it halfway with water from the tap, and drinks most of it, only to dump out the rest. Then he rinses the glass off, sets it in the same spot it was before, and he returns to his punching bag, waiting for his guest to leave.

It only takes another moment for the man to appear in a black tee untucked over tight blue jeans. His hair is short, dark brown, and disheveled, and Jeongguk spares him a final passing glance before looking away. Some shuffling around is heard as the man puts on his shoes before the front door opens and closes.

Jeongguk grabs his gun from its holster and twirls it around his finger as he makes his way through the space and locks both deadbolts on the front door—not that the man would be able to bypass a retina scan and passcode to return inside. He heads up a flight of stairs beside the entrance toward his master bedroom and en suite to get ready to meet with Yoongi and Namjoon in thirty minutes, whistling some tune that is stuck in his head while the heavy, familiar weight of his glock grounds him.

Meetings make Jeongguk anxious. For as long as he has been part of Yoongi's family, nobody has given Jeongguk a reason for his anxiety; it is simply his natural state of being. He hates sitting and brainstorming, always finding himself spacing out and needing whoever was speaking to repeat themselves. He would rather be given an order and sent on his way. 

And with the new girl in the house, everyone has the habit of getting sidetracked and steering the conversation to her. Especially Namjoon and Hoseok.

It is not as if Jeongguk doesn't like having her in the house, but he is tired of having to pretend to give a shit about new people. And, after the debacle with Ryujin, he is not eager to watch his boss fall in love with an outsider.

If there is one thing this world has taught Jeongguk, it is that to love is to die.

In his standard-issued black button-up tucked into black slacks, Jeongguk checks his appearance, running a hand through his unstyled hair. The front is growing out, falling just below his eyebrows, and it is another thing on the long list of shit he does not want to deal with.

Jeongguk straightens out his rolex and heads out through his dimly lit bedroom, down the short hallway to the flight of stairs that leads right to his front entrance. He sits on the second to last step and puts on worn-out doc marten boots, taking care to double tie the laces, and he adjusts the gun holster on his ankle so that it sits comfortably above his right boot.

Not that he will need a gun to go to Yoongi's place, but he may need one for where he plans on going after.

Jeongguk's home is the second closest to Yoongi's mansion, so rather than drive, he gets on his trusty 7-speed mint green bicycle. Strapped to the handlebars is a light brown handwoven basket in which he tosses a small black duffle bag. Jeongguk straddles the bike, gripping onto the soft brown handlebars, and sets off down his driveway, waiting as his weight triggers the security gate to open and let him be on his way.

It only takes three or so minutes for him to pull up to Yoongi's front gate. There is a path that connects all of their homes and allows them access without leaving any security gates, but the road has a nice steep hill that Jeongguk can get some real speed on, and he prefers that to the private path that is much more level.

As the gate opens granting Jeongguk access, he spots Hoseok and Seokjin standing hand in hand on Yoongi's stoop. From the smell of it, they are smoking a joint, and as Jeongguk gets closer, the sound of his tires on the cement driveway calls their attention.

Jeongguk grins and flicks the small aluminum bell on the handlebars twice, ringing it playfully. Yoongi's head appears from behind Seokjin's broad shoulders, and he smiles his wide, gummy grin that always sets Jeongguk at ease. Hoseok lets go of Seokjin's hand, and he turns to greet him.

"Who was the boy?" Hoseok teases.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shrugs. "How did you get back here so fast?"

"He didn't live too far," Hoseok responds with his hands on his hips. 

Jeongguk knows the look in his eye—the squinted glare that suggests he isn't getting the information he desires and that he plans to pry more. 

Hoseok continues, "I'm impressed you let him stay the night."

With a sigh, Jeongguk says, "I didn't. Picked him up this morning."

"This morning?" Seokjin asks as he turns and mimics Hoseok's stance—whether intentionally or simply because they spend too much time together, it is hard to say.

This is the facet of being the youngest that Jeongguk hates; he is always subject to twenty questions about what and who he does despite him almost never sticking his nose into their business. They love to pick on him, and it drives him crazy.

"Yeah, this morning," Jeongguk grumbles as he gets off his bike, walks it to the garage, and leans it against the painted steel panel door. "I had pent-up energy and couldn't sleep, so I went to Paradise and found someone to fuck."

Yoongi scoffs. A crooked smirk tugs on his lips—nothing but trouble—and Jeongguk braces himself for what he is about to say.

"Pent-up energy from bashing a man's brains in?"

Jeongguk hums in agreement and pushes his hand through his hair. "As if I'm the only one," he grumbles, making his way to the stoop. Seokjin holds a joint up to his lips, and Jeongguk reaches out and snatches it, sticking his tongue out as his elder, who squawks in dissent.

"You're certainly not the only one," Hoseok responds with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Yoongi shakes his head as he chuckles.

Jeongguk takes a deep inhale of the joint, enjoying the faint crackle of tobacco that has been mixed in. Smoke fills his lungs, and he holds it in, then tilts his head upward and blows the small plume out.

"Shall we?" Seokjin asks as he wraps his arm around Hoseok's waist. They are both dressed in black suits with white undershirts, with their hair styled a little nicer than usual, and Jeongguk wonders what they may be up to, but he doesn't want to ask. Unlike them, he hates to pry.

Yoongi, however, can always be trusted to unveil people's plans. "You'll be back in an hour or so?" he asks, reaching to smooth the lapels on Seokjin's dress shirt.

Hoseok nods and gives Yoongi a soft smile. "Seokjin is meeting with a few brokers at House of Cards, so while he's busy wooing them, I'll return in time to meet with you and Taehyung."

"Perfect," Yoongi responds with a satisfied smile. He turns to Jeongguk and says, "Namjoon's inside. Shall we?"

Jeongguk hums and holds the joint out toward Seokjin, who holds up his hand and shakes his head. Seokjin and Hoseok wave their goodbyes and walk toward the black sedan parked a few feet away, and Jeongguk waves the two fingers that cradle the slowly diminishing joint and follows Yoongi through the front door.

As he kicks out of his shoes, Namjoon comes down the stairs wearing a stupid smile that makes Jeongguk's stomach turn. What he and Yoongi get up to is their own business, but after what happened in the past, he hates the thought that the cycle is repeating itself. He has always wondered why the two of them can't just be happy together without having to play house with a third. But it is none of his business.

Smoking weed is probably a mistake. As Jeongguk lifts his hand to pass the joint to Namjoon, he already feels a little spaced out and way too relaxed. He approaches the blue velvet couch, sits on the end furthest from Yoongi's chair, and leans into the corner of it with one arm up on the armrest and the other slung around the back. Namjoon sits in the other corner, as close to Yoongi as possible, and angles his body toward Yoongi like the obedient little puppy he is.

As expected, the meeting loses Jeongguk's attention almost immediately, and he spaces out, rubbing his fingertips along the velvet fabric of the couch to make it dark and rough, only to smooth it out again. 

Occasionally, Yoongi asks Jeongguk's opinion, catching his attention and reiterating whatever point it is he wants Jeongguk to weigh in on, and Jeongguk looks up, nods, and grunts.

The meetings always go this way. Everyone has a conversation around Jeongguk, and then they cater to Jeongguk's lack of attention in order to ask his opinion on trivial matters. He doesn't understand why this can't be done over text.

When they conclude the boring chunk of the meeting, and Jeongguk has grunted and nodded somewhere around eight to ten times, Yoongi sits forward in his chair—a movement that always catches Jeongguk's attention—then he angles his hips to reach into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a small baggie full of pills.

There are about eight pills in the bag, and they are little pink semi-squares. Without having a closer look, Jeongguk knows that they are ecstasy pills pressed with methamphetamines that were shipped from California, but he picks up the baggie anyway, inspecting them for the Iron Man logo imprinted on the back.

"These are trash," Jeongguk says, tossing them back onto the table.

One of these pills will have the user grinding their teeth so hard they are likely to chip one. Jeongguk once woke up from a bender that included these and other substances, and the sides of his mouth were so chewed up and swollen, he could barely eat soup.

Since then, he keeps a mouthguard in his duffle bag along with his weapons. He will never understand why Americans so willingly settle for garbage drugs.

"That they are," Yoongi responds with a smirk. "But we have already begun to manufacture smoother MDMA that gives you the high minus the mouth grinding, and I would like your guys to try to emulate a pill that has those qualities, plus the amount of methamphetamines found in these."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "If you want an upper that doesn't have a negative effect on the user's mouth, meth isn't the way to go."

"What about drugs that are meant to treat attention deficit?" Namjoon butts in. 

Jeongguk tilts his head to show Namjoon he is listening and tenses his jaw to let him know that whatever it is, he better get to the point. Namjoon has a tendency to get long-winded, and Jeongguk finds it annoying. Namjoon seems unaffected and continues with a soft smile.

"Those pharmaceuticals don't often cause users to grind their teeth or get the other 'meth mouth' side effects. Perhaps we can find out how much meth is used in these pressed pills and test whether that same amount of Adderall or something similar would have a more pleasant effect. If your team doesn't still have Adderall or anything similar on hand, I'm sure we could get some smuggled in by the end of the week."

"Adderall isn't meth," Jeongguk mutters. "Amphetamines are a different class of stimulant, but...it might work. And I'm almost certain we have some on hand."

Jeongguk does not hate the idea. But he is not a scientist—none of them are. He has no clue if this idea will actually pan out. He does, however, have scientists under his employ, so he takes the baggie and shoves it into his pocket.

"Fine," Jeongguk says. "I'll talk to the team about it. Anything else?"

Namjoon shakes his head as if Jeongguk was directing the question to him, and Jeongguk ignores him to glance at Yoongi.

With a soft smile, Yoongi says, "Of course, we need to figure out who that Jae fellow is, who—"

"Already on it," Jeongguk interrupts, to which Yoongi sits up with a smile. "After some digging I found Jae and fourteen men who either knew about his plan or were helping him carry it out. I invited them all to a party at the private club. I'll pop by the warehouse on my way—kill two birds with one stone."

"Kill as many birds as needed," Yoongi responds with a dark, knowing gaze that sends an excited shiver through Jeongguk.

"You got it, boss."

* * * 

Jeongguk stops at a red light just outside the city, gathers saliva under his tongue as he takes the baggie of shitty pink pills out of his front pocket, and pops one into his mouth. He makes a mental note of where everyone will be in an hour or two, banking on Seokjin still being in town, knowing he will be in absolutely no shape to bike home. Then he runs a hand through his hair, gives the bell on his bicycle a celebratory ding as the light turns green, and takes off.

The air is warm, but the breeze that hits him as he rides at a slight incline feels nice and cool. It centers him—a calm before he kicks up a storm. 

So little of Jeongguk's life has ever been calm, and so he takes these moments whenever he can and holds them close to his heart. Driving would make everything go faster, and it would be much more convenient, and that is precisely why Jeongguk rides his bike instead.

Jeongguk's drug operations primarily take place in a warehouse district on the outskirts of the city in an abandoned area that has been left impoverished and ignored with intention. The syndicates like having dumping grounds—a place to make people disappear—and when Yoongi took over and extended his reign to this area, there were talks of cleaning it up to improve the quality of life, which he staunchly declined. 

In fact, the area seems to only have gotten worse. Ironic, perhaps, that some of Yoongi's most state-of-the-art equipment is housed in this very district.

There were homeless populations, but once the warehouses became more useful and Jeongguk employed a team of scientists to begin manufacturing some of their heavy-hitter drugs, everyone was pushed out or eradicated. Or, if they had their wits about them, they were brought onto some of the more disposable teams.

Jeongguk veers from the busy streets and begins an uphill journey that quickly turns to dirt and gravel terrain. The bike bounces as Jeongguk leans into each stride, and then he pulls up to a small concrete compound of four identical grey rectangles with steel panel doors and a few run-down cars outside. He thumbs over a key fob in his pocket to cause the steel door on the second building from the left to lift open, and skids to a halt in front of it.

Whether the drugs are slowly starting to take effect or Jeongguk is anxious about meeting with his team, he is unsure, but there is a tremor in his hands as he rides into the dark cement enclosure and taps the button over the fabric of his slacks once more to close the door behind him. 

Jeongguk parks his bike off to the side of the entrance, closes his eyes to take a deep exhale and shake out his limbs, then makes his way through the empty building to a set of steps in a far corner.

Two stories below is where the science team works, and Jeongguk takes the baggie of pink pills from his pocket, pulls one more pill out, seals the baggie shut, and rubs his thumb and finger over the plastic-covered pills as he makes his way downstairs.

* * * 

The phone rings thrice before Seokjin picks up, and Jeongguk rubs his hand over his nose, stifling a sniffle as cocaine drips down the back of his throat.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Jin-hyung," Jeongguk says in a tone that lilts on being ragged and unsure. "A-are you still in Seoul?"

Jeongguk hears Seokjin sigh. "Are you high?"

"Hmm...not yet. But I will be."

Jeongguk absolutely is high. It crept up as he was discussing Yoongi's idea with the science team, and he got so antsy that he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Luckily, there wasn't much to say to the team in the first place; they are used to these kinds of requests and know more about the processes than anyone else, so Jeongguk had nothing to explain—he simply plopped the baggie onto a metal table, muttered their idea, and was out rather fast.

"Do you need a ride?" Seokjin asks, voice stern in a way that always makes Jeongguk anxious—like he is being spoken to like a child.

"Yeah," Jeongguk mutters. His mouth shivers and moves a little too slowly. "Yoongi encouraged me to go b-bird watching, and I'll probably overdo it."

"Bird wat—what did he tell you, exactly?"

Jeongguk giggles, realizing his mistake. Bird watching—how silly. "I'll be in your district. Gotta knock skulls together and find out who lost my pills. Might get messy."

"And you need a ride?"

"Yes, hyung."

"Did you drive?"

"Yes, hyung."

Another sigh. "Send me the coordinates. I can be there in about an hour."

"Thanks, hyung," Jeongguk sing-songs in a dazed voice as he pulls the phone from his ear and hangs up.

His bike tires crunch on gravel as he sits back on the seat, grips his handlebars, and begins to ride. Inside the wicker basket sits an empty duffle bag, the contents of which have been strapped to Jeongguk's chest, scratching his skin ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

The ride from the warehouses to the river feels simultaneously too fast and incredibly slow. Jeongguk's heart pounds as he continues to come up on the pill and ease into two too many tiny spoonfuls of cocaine. He wants a drink—something stiff as hell to take the edge off.

Tonight, in a private club near House of Cards, fifteen of Jeongguk's men are enjoying an evening of drinking and taking it easy in celebration of a great month of getting product onto the streets and sold. This, of course, is a lie; their month tanked once one of them pulled a significant amount of pharmaceuticals and ecstasy, and Jeongguk has gathered them all for easy disposal.

Namjoon and the lamb met with Changkyun to rough up a couple of men who spilled the beans about someone named Jae fucking with their supply. Afterward, Jeongguk put his ear to the ground and immediately started to hear whispers of other men who may have been working to help him. He found out who had been working close to Jae and who had been hanging out with him while off duty, and he made sure to extend invitations to all fifteen of them for a party at the club tonight.

Everyone who is actually worth a damn is currently in one of the warehouses having a lowkey shindig of their own, far away from the others, and none the wiser. They will all find out eventually, and Jeongguk looks forward to their loyalty being tested when they do.

The sun has begun to set, and a pinkish-orange glow colors the sky. Jeongguk likes to imagine the pink as a runoff of blood, picturing the stars above spilling the crimson liquid onto the earth, getting soaked up by the clouds.

He stands, straddling his bike, and stumbles it into a rack, feeling the dizzying tendrils of his high begin to wrap him in a tight hug. A valet worker walks over with a bike lock and begins to anchor the vehicle into place, then sends Jeongguk off with a deep bow.

"Mister Jeon," the buff security officer working the front door mutters with a bow of his head. He pats Jeongguk down as he asks, "What's on the menu tonight?" fingers tracing over pointed steel between his pecs.

"Teaching a lesson in loyalty," Jeongguk responds with a wide, sadistic smile. "Boss will send a cleanup crew; you just need to worry about keeping the men inside once the bartender leaves through the back."

The guard rubs his palm over the gun on Jeongguk's ankle, then stands and says, "Understood."

When Jeongguk walks into the small club, the men are all crowded in a circle, shouting over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Whenever these low-lives get thrown into a room together, all they want to do is fight. Jeongguk can barely see a tousle of bodies in the center of the group, but the sounds of grunting as hands and feet make contact with limbs and cheeks has adrenaline coursing through him.

The space is cast in a drug-induced fog, and Jeongguk's eyes slowly scan around and attempt to make sense of everything. There are no windows and only one exit, save for a secret door only staff have access to behind the bar. The building itself is solid brick with mahogany floors and deep red wallpaper. Lighting in the space is dim, appearing darker still since the scarce furnishings are rust red.

Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and orders a double whiskey neat—the shittiest they have on the rail. He likes to feel the burn as it travels from his lips to his chest—likes how every inch of his body responds in protest against something so wretched.

"You're off for the night," Jeongguk mutters, and the bartender nods, grabs a towel to wipe a wet spot from the bar top, and then walks into the back, abandoning his post.

Jeongguk pulls a vial of cocaine from around his neck, unscrews it, and begins to tap a small pile onto the sticky counter. He leans and sniffs as much as he can, first through one nostril and then the other, leaving the rest behind. 

Then, he pulls the second little pink pill from his pocket, takes a dizzy step back, and pops it into his mouth. He reasons that the only way to come out of the other end of a bloodbath without ruining his ability to sleep at night is to become relentlessly high.

With the remainder of his whiskey, Jeongguk washes back the pill and attempts to formulate a plan. One of the men approaches the bar, and Jeongguk turns to find him leaning against the edge and looking around.

"Where the fuck is the bartender?" the guy asks, glancing at Jeongguk.

Recognition hits the man, and his eyes widen, then he stands up straight, turning to Jeongguk with his head bowed forward. "S-sir," he mutters, "I didn't see you there."

Jeongguk's heart pounds as he undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, reaches past the fabric, and pulls out a sharp steel kunai knife with a hole on the end of the handle through which Jeongguk sticks his index finger. He twirls the small, heavy knife and takes a step toward the man.

"Are you having fun tonight?" Jeongguk asks with a voice that is far too steady for how he feels.

The man eyes Jeongguk's knife and gives him an ugly, toothy smile. His hair is greasy, his brown shirt is stained on the front, and he smells like piss. "So much fun, boss! Thank you for giving us the night off."

Jeongguk nods. "I wanted to give a special congratulations to Jae. Have you seen him?"

At the mention of Jae, the man's eyes open widely, and he nervously looks around the bar. Then he nods with his chin and says, "Red shirt. W-want me to get him for you, boss?"

Every inch of Jeongguk tingles. A hazy, thick euphoria embraces him tightly and makes him want to dance—dance and sing and slit all of these men's throats until the floor is sticky with blood.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, aware of how tense his jaw is becoming, and moves it around as if stretching it out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rounded plastic container in which he stores his mouthguard, and he shakes his head at the man before him.

"I'll take care of it," Jeongguk says as he pops the container open, pulls out the clear guard, and shoves it snugly into his mouth.

"Oh—okay," the man says, taking a step away from Jeongguk, who continues to stare him down with his lips spread over the clear plastic covering his teeth.

Jeongguk twirls the kunai on his finger and takes a step toward the man. The man jolts as if startled by a jump scare, and he takes a clumsy step back, tripping into a barstool and reaching back with his hand to steady it. Everything seems to move too fast and too slow, and Jeongguk finds he can only process that which is immediately in his line of sight—everything else is a hazy wash of light and color.

This is the sweet spot. Any higher, and Jeongguk might not be able to perform.

Jeongguk spins on the balls of his boots, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hoists himself up, landing surprisingly steadily on the bar top. Then he hops down onto the other side and straightens himself as he allows his eyes and brain to catch up to one another, scanning the bottles on the shelves. There are a lot of clear bottles, but only one of them is the vodka he desires.

"W-what are you doing, boss?" the man asks.

"Making a cocktail," Jeongguk shouts over his shoulder.

"Gin...close..." Jeongguk mutters to himself, mouth full of plastic and twirling his kunai. Fidgeting helps him focus, especially with methamphetamines coursing through his blood.

"W-what kind of cocktail, boss?" the man asks, and Jeongguk huffs an impatient sigh. He hates being bothered; why is this man bothering him?

"Ah, here you are," Jeongguk mumbles as he finds a nearly full bottle of Smirnoff 100-proof vodka. He pulls the bottle spout out and drops it to the floor—metal clattering on brick—then turns and searches the rail for a rag.

"Molotov," Jeongguk shouts as he takes the corner of the stained rag and begins twisting it into a small enough tip to shove into the bottle.

"What?"

Jeongguk has to use the kunai to slice part of the rag away, and he tosses the useless strip over his shoulder, then continues to shove the rag into the neck of the bottle, leaving a couple inches sticking out from the top. 

Satisfied with his work, he pulls a gold-plated zippo lighter from his pocket and flicks it open against his thigh in one swift motion, igniting the flame in the process. Then he holds the flame up to the rag and watches with delight as the end of the dirty fabric catches. He pops the lighter closed and drops it back into his pocket, then he sets the flaming cocktail aside.

With the kunai dangling from around his finger, Jeongguk pulls out his mouthguard, dribbling spit that has gathered around it down his chin as he says, "Molotov," more clearly with a grin.

The man looks on in horror, frozen in place, and Jeongguk shoves the guard back into his mouth, places his palms onto the sticky bar, and hops back up, onto his feet in a squatting position. Without warning, Jeongguk picks up the bottle, chucks it overhand toward the crowd, sending it high enough to hit the ceiling, and he smiles widely as the bottle explodes and rains liquid fire down onto the men.

Laughter rocks through Jeongguk, and he loses his balance, falling backward onto his palms against the bar. He sits flat on his butt and swings his legs over the edge of the counter, watching as men panic and scream.

Most of them will have minor burns. Several men run around flailing while their shirts and hair singe, and one man rolls on the floor, desperate to put out the flames. In the chaos, Jeongguk spots Jae off to the right, away from the fire, and he hops down from the bar to make his way over to him, pulling his mouthguard out.

"Yo, Jae!" Jeongguk shouts, and the man in red turns quickly and begins to run toward Jeongguk.

"Boss, you have to help us!" Jae shouts frantically, clearly drunk. "Someone threw fire at us!"

Jeongguk giggles and takes Jae roughly by the bicep as he mutters, "You, come with me."

Jae stumbles but compiles, and Jeongguk drags him several more feet away. Beside the bathrooms of this old building are thick pipes that stick out from the brick, and Jeongguk yanks the man close to one as he reaches into his pocket for some metal handcuffs, fumbles with opening one end of the cuffs, then locks it around Jae's wrist in a tight squeeze.

A shout rips through Jae's chest, and he attempts to get away but then throws a punch. Jeongguk takes the impact of his fist to the jaw and then slams his forehead into Jae’s face, knocking him backward into the wall. 

Jae's head hits brick, making him grunt, and Jeongguk manages to reach the man’s hand over his head and secure the open cuff to one of the pipes.

Adrenaline from absorbing the punch has Jeongguk's nerves singing to life, and he punches Jae in the stomach for good measure, then turns to find the man at the bar shaking while leaning against it with a look of horror on his face.

"Why so scared?" Jeongguk mock pouts.

The man shakes his head and whimpers, "Wh-what's going on, boss?"

"You know what's going on," Jeongguk mutters with a grin.

The man shakes his head again, this time more frantically.

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, sending a dizzying wave through his body. "No? Because if you told me what happened, I would consider letting you live."

The flash of hope that widens the man's eyes tells Jeongguk everything he needs to know, and he advances quickly—crowds the man's space. A quick glance over his shoulder shows the rest of the group is still broken out into chaos with men attempting to help others put out the remaining fire and get to their feet. A few blurry bodies are on the outskirts of the crowd, but nobody appears to be approaching him.

"Tell me what happened," Jeongguk growls as he turns back to the man at the bar.

"J-J-Jae s-said if w-we cover for him, we'd get a cut."

"A cut of what?" Jeongguk asks.

The man screws up his face as if Jeongguk's question is ridiculous. "Money, s-sir."

"Money for what?"

The man shakes his head. He knows he is fucked—that he has already said too much—and he nibbles on his lip, which trembles. Jeongguk brings the kunai up to the man's throat and presses the tip against his jugular notch.

"Answer me."

"P-pills!" the man shouts. "Narcotics and party drugs. He t-took them off the last shipment while you were distracted."

"Distracted, hmm? Tell me, what was I distracted by?"

At this, the man begins to panic and twist as if hoping that he can get away somehow. So there is more to this story than them simply stealing from him to turn a profit. Interesting.

"Boss?" a voice comes from behind Jeongguk, and he grits his teeth hard and pushes the kunai into the man's jugular, turning his face away from the spray of blood. The man gargles and thrashes, and Jeongguk takes a step back and allows him to fall to the floor and bleed out.

One down, fourteen to go.

Jeongguk pops his guard back into his mouth, spins on the balls of his feet with a wide plastic smile, and finds two worried-looking men standing before him. He reaches into his shirt, pulls another kunai off the bandolier of blades strapped to his chest, and begins to twirl them both—one on each index finger.

The major downside of having to be this high to commit mass murder is that his aim is shit. The entire point of having so many knives strapped to him is to throw them at his targets without needing to immediately retrieve them. Instead, Jeongguk straps the belt around his chest as a means to ground himself—a tight, scratchy hug.

Jeongguk advances on the two men. One stumbles backward and begins to run back to the group while the other gets an angry glint in his eye and comes in swinging. Jeongguk guards his punch by driving the tip of a knife through the man's forearm, then punches his other knife into the man's neck. For good measure, Jeongguk kneels as the man falls and slices his throat open to quicken his bleeding.

Two down, thirteen to go.

When Jeongguk stands, stumbling as he finds his balance, he notices some men crowding around him while others attempt to escape. Jeongguk feels himself fly into a blind rage as he approaches the small group and begins punching and stabbing, absorbing hits that are nowhere near as damaging or lethal as the ones he doles out. He barely feels it when fists make impact with him, and he giggles wildly when one punch lands on the kunai under his shirt and slices the man's knuckles.

"You ruined my shirt, you fuck," he complains through his mouthguard as he punches a knife into the soft tissue and cartilage the man's face, still giggling like a madman.

A glance around the space shows Jae in his corner, three men at the door attempting to beat it down, and two men on the far-end wall huddled up. A couple men groan and crawl against the floor, and Jeongguk has no idea how many of them are dead or dying, so he advances on the three by the door.

Jeongguk takes a chance and flings one of the knives, and it whirs satisfactorily and hits one of the men in the shoulder. The man yelps and falls to his knees, clearly assuming something far worse has happened to him, and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to advance and take the other two out while he is down.

A knife to the throat here, a headbutt followed by a knife to the throat there, and Jeongguk is bending behind the last man, pulling the knife from his back and reaching around to the front of his neck to slice it open. Jeongguk gets to his feet, stretches his neck from side to side, and turns to survey the scene.

The two men who were by the far wall must have gained courage, and they come barreling toward Jeongguk. One slips on blood and falls back against the floor with a loud smack, but the other manages to get close enough to attempt to slash at Jeongguk with a piece of broken glass. Once again, Jeongguk blocks the punch with a knife to the forearm, then punches a knife into the throat, watching with a plastic grin as the man falls to the ground.

Groans and gargles fill the space, and Jeongguk catches his breath as the room sways and twists before him. His mouth is dry, and the smell of brassy blood is overwhelming, and Jeongguk wants to curl up in a ball and take a nice big nap. 

On the floor, the man who had slipped and fallen convulses, and Jeongguk wonders if his head has been pierced by broken glass. Nobody seems to be getting up, so Jeongguk surmises he must have fourteen down with only one left.

Jeongguk wipes the back of his wrist against his forehead, undoubtedly coating it in sweat and blood, and he turns back to Jae. Blood runs down Jae's wrist, and he shakes like a leaf on a tree—he has clearly been attempting to pull himself from the handcuff. Jeongguk pulls his mouthguard out, sucks in some of the saliva that has pooled, and shoves it into his pocket beside its case.

"Last man standing," he slurs as his high becomes unbearable. "You have three minutes to spill before I kill you."

The tangy scent of urine hits Jeongguk's nose, and he looks down to find a large wet spot on the front of Jae's jeans. He shakes his head and scoffs.

"It wasn't my idea," Jae whimpers. Jeongguk cocks his head and studies the man's face—is he crying? What a fucking wimp.

"Whose idea was it?"

"You know whose!" Jae shouts. "The same family that sent the man to fuck up your boxer! The same family who attacked your whore! They're sending people from all sides to throw you off your game and shake you up!"

"My whore?" Jeongguk growls as he grabs Jae tightly by the jaw. "Jimin isn't my whore, and speaking about one of my family men like that is a good way to get a knife shoved into your filthy little piss hole."

Fear visibly shakes through Jae, who thrashes in Jeongguk's hold. He even grabs onto Jeongguk's wrist with his free hand in a feeble attempt to yank Jeongguk's grip off of his jaw. Jeongguk headbutts him again and squeezes tighter as a dizzying quake rocks through him.

"Why did you accept her offer? Were you really stupid enough to think you wouldn't get caught?"

Jae scoffs and shakes his head, appearing to act tough with tears on his cheeks. "She has men on the inside."

Jeongguk squints, losing his ability to see clearly even as close to Jae as he is. "On the inside? On my team?"

"Well...she did. You killed most of them."

"Who are the others?" Jeongguk demands, and Jae laughs.

"You got everything from me that you could," Jae says. Jeongguk thinks he sees Jae's eyes flash to the side and back, but it takes him too long to process it before Jae mutters, "Kill me and be done with it."

Jeongguk takes a step back, ready to drive the knife into Jae's throat and move on, but an arm snakes around Jeongguk's torso and hot, piercing pain hits him on his side. Jeongguk drives a knife into the hand around his waist, piercing his own skin from the impact, and he yanks the knife away in time for another piercing pain to hit him between his shoulder blades.

Only as Jeongguk spins and finds one of the blood-soiled men holding a jagged, bloodied piece of glass does Jeongguk realize he has been stabbed. He grunts as he thrusts both of his knives into the man's guts and shoves the man back until he slips on blood and falls to the floor.

"Fuck!" Jeongguk shouts in frustration as he spins around and slices Jae's throat open in a broad, sloppy motion. He does not want to deal with stab wounds of all fucking things.

Jeongguk slowly steps back and looks around the room, swaying as he turns and attempts to survey the carnage left behind. Everything is a blur of reds and browns with hints of whites and blues, and Jeongguk stumbles toward the bar to sit down on a stool and catch his breath.

The pain in his side and back tingle-throb, and Jeongguk attempts to remember how to tend to a stab wound, but all he can do is grind his teeth and rest back against the bar top. When the door to the club flies open, Jeongguk doesn't register who approaches until he hears Seokjin's nagging shouts and feels him prodding at Jeongguk's torso.

"Yah, are you injured?" Seokjin shouts, fussing about at Jeongguk's side where his hand is weakly pressing against a wound.

Jeongguk hisses and nods, and then he giggles at the thought of any of these men thinking they could kill him. How stupid of them.

"Where did you park?" Seokjin asks as he gets Jeongguk onto his feet with his arm draped over Seokjin's broad shoulders.

"Front," Jeongguk mutters.

All the world is a blur of lights and colors, streaked and sloppy before Jeongguk's eyes. He steps into the cool night air, and the security guard says something he does not comprehend, and then he fumbles down the short set of steps, onto the sidewalk.

"Jeongguk, I don't see any of your cars," Seokjin says as he shakes him roughly.

Pulled to alertness for a split moment, Jeongguk hums and says, "Ol' minty," while flinging his hand in the direction of his bike.

"Wh—Jeonggukah!" Seokjin shouts. "You said you drove here! I asked you if y—oh, this is unbelievable."

"I dr—I drove my bike," Jeongguk slurs.

Jeongguk is led to his bike where the blurry valet attendant is bowed before him, and Seokjin gets him to straddle the small metal cargo rack above the back tire.

"Feet on the pegs!" Seokjin barks as he lifts Jeongguk's feet one at a time and places them onto small metal pegs that are screwed onto his back tire.

Jeongguk somewhat obeys—he has done this many times before—but his feet slip a few times until he is steady. Then Seokjin moves the bicycle away from the bike rack, tells Jeongguk to hold on tight, and once Jeongguk wraps his arms around Seokjin's ribs and leans his head on his back, they are off.

Seokjin smells nice. Like cigars and the expensive cologne that Hoseok insists he wears. He takes in a nice deep breath and groans happily before letting it out. The night air feels cool on his skin, and he smiles as Seokjin drives them home.

From time to time, Jeongguk hears an unintelligible grunt or groan, but he ignores it; he will undoubtedly hear it again once he has sobered up, so there is no use trying to strain the few remaining brain cells that are still working to try to make sense of it now.

The ride from the city to the property is usually around thirty minutes when it is just Jeongguk. He has no concept of how much time has passed as he attempts to watch a tree line blur by, and although the scenery is familiar and Jeongguk thinks he has some idea of how close they could be, he does not dwell on it. Instead, he closes his eyes.

When the bicycle finally skids to a stop, Jeongguk nearly topples over. Seokjin swears and mutters, and Jeongguk attempts to place his feet on the concrete driveway, but his legs melt like hot wax, and he sinks downward as the weight of his collapsing bicycle drags him to the ground.

Seokjin manages to get Jeongguk untangled from his vehicle and picks him up over his shoulder, carrying Jeongguk potato-sack-style toward a light that shines out into the night through some windows. He hears the mechanical beeping of the locking mechanism and then the door crashes open. The sounds of three particular voices gasping tells Jeongguk that he has been brought to Yoongi's house.

"Taehyung," Seokjin mutters. "I think he's been stabbed. There doesn't seem to be a lot of blood loss; I think he's delirious from being high."

There is some shuffling around, and Jeongguk hangs over Seokjin's shoulder, feeling sleepy and, frankly, completely unbothered by anything. 

So he may have gotten stabbed once or twice, so what? He found out more information, and he got to let go of some of his pent-up rage. His jaw aches, however, and he wishes he had not taken his mouthguard out.

Jeongguk is transferred to a different strong person, and Jeongguk wraps his arms around the different neck and hugs closely. After a split moment, he realizes by the clean smell of lotion and eucalyptus shampoo that it is Taehyung, and Jeongguk smiles as he carries him back outside.

"Stabbed?" Taehyung mutters curiously as the night air hits Jeongguk's cheeks and makes him shiver.

The walk to Taehyung's house from Yoongi's is short, and Jeongguk buries his face into Taehyung's neck as he mutters, "Mmhmm."

Silence falls, save for the crunch of dirt under Taehyung's shoe. Jeongguk thinks he begins to fall asleep, roused by the sound of Taehyung's deep, soft voice.

"Are the wounds deep?"

Jeongguk shakes his head, although, truth be told, he has no idea. There is a wet spot on his back, but it does not feel very big, and the one on his side is pressed against Taehyung.

"How many bodies?" Taehyung asks softly.

The sounds of Taehyung's feet crunching over gravel feels oddly calming to Jeongguk, and for some inexplicable reason, he feels the urge to cry.

"Fifteen," Jeongguk mutters with a tremble. He is cold, and he grips onto Taehyung tighter in search of warmth.

Taehyung tsks and chuckles. "So reckless. You don't have to do these jobs alone, you know? You can take one of us."

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters, feeling defeated and miserable.

Another chuckle comes from Taehyung, instantly lifting Jeongguk's spirits and making him feel okay. "Don't apologize, baby. We just worry about you."

Jeongguk nods against Taehyung's neck and mutters, "Okay."

"I can't believe how mean you are to me," Taehyung whines in a mocking tone as he leans the two of them forward to punch in the password to his front door. 

Taehyung opens the door and switches on a foyer light, then makes his way down a short ramp into his basement, where his exam rooms and surgical equipment are. The fluorescent lighting makes Jeongguk groan and squeeze his eyes closed.

"First, Hoseok tells me you brought home some nobody to fuck," Taehyung continues to mock-pout, "and then you show up all cut and bruised. Starting to make me think you don't need me anymore, baby."

Jeongguk knows Taehyung is being playful, but he cannot stop himself from taking it very personally, and the sloshing of heightened emotions has him feeling incredibly sad. 

Taehyung means more to him than anyone in the world, which is precisely why Jeongguk tends to keep him at arms-length sometimes. Tears spill from Jeongguk's eyes.

"S-sorry, hyung."

"Awe, my poor crybaby," Taehyung sing-songs as he sets Jeongguk onto a leather exam table covered in a white paper sheet.

Jeongguk continues to hold onto Taehyung tightly until two strong hands wrap around his wrists and pull his arms down. He does not want Taehyung to see him cry, even though it would not be the first time—nor the last.

"Are you bored of me, Ggukie? Is that why you don't call me anymore?"

"D-don't want to bother you," Jeongguk whimpers pathetically, swiftly crashing from his high and feeling the full array of his emotions.

Jeongguk opens his eyes a crack to find Taehyung hovering over him and unbuttoning his soiled shirt. Taehyung chuckles at the sight of the blades and reaches around Jeongguk’s back to undo the belt and pull it free. Then he pulls Jeongguk's shirt away, making Jeongguk shiver, and he surveys the first wound.

"Not too deep," Taehyung says as he meets Jeongguk's gaze and smiles. For the first time in a while, Jeongguk can clearly see in front of him, and he thinks Taehyung is more beautiful than ever. Taehyung quietly studies his face. "You seem to be coming back to me. How do you feel?"

Terrible, Jeongguk thinks. He can't tell if he is fully coming down or if the second pill still has more high to give him, but he trembles and his bones feel restless in his skin, and he cannot keep his emotions from teetering from one extreme to the other, especially with Taehyung looking down at him the way he does.

"Shitty," is all Jeongguk says.

"Let's get you into a nice warm bath," Taehyung suggests with a grin that makes Jeongguk melt. "We'll clean your wounds, and then you'll show me what you did to that pretty boy who you picked up this morning. Sound good?"

Jeongguk will need a lot of cocaine to keep up with Taehyung, especially in this state, and he nods and attempts a smile, feeling his teeth clatter in his mouth.

"That's my good baby," Taehyung groans in a tone so deep, it makes a chill rock through Jeongguk.

There is only one person who Jeongguk lets his guard down for—lets do anything he pleases. And although Taehyung is absolutely terrifying and will undoubtedly be the death of him, Jeongguk cannot tell him no.

thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoy these extras. i lament only writing from one point of view, so these have been a lot of fun for me. hopefully it's not too confusing plopping them into the story as early as chapter 10.

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[itstimetoghoul]

Whenever Cirrus and Dew finally end up kissing, during sex or not (its a plus if its just romantic and they can finally have that heart to heart abt their obvious pining), just mending their little relationship ill jump for joy in my seat!!! Hearing even little snippets or piecing the art together from the past to see their dynamic makes me go oowahh!!! so cool!!! so happy!! ❤ woww!!! Love them fr Cant lie though that feud they got going is (to me at least) a really interesting way to put their relationship. I havent seen the fandom do that much with ghoul x ghoulette ships, and esp the underrated ship of cirrus x dew! You're very creative

I'm gonna preface this ramble with 'potential spoiler' warnings because I kinda get into the overall view of my character studies for these two fnsdjgndfj.

-

When it comes to all the ghouls I like them being equal-opportunity relationships that could become something more in an open, poly way? Everyone is gay in some way and M/F presenting ghouls can have very queer encounters.

With Dew and Cirrus I really love the potential of their rivalry because in my eyes they are equals in their skill as musicians, ghouls, strength and so on. Cirrus performs a lot of the same feral posturing as Dew (and Swiss) does and that made me really want to write/draw the progression of playful rough housing into a rivalry- into the anxiety of potentially losing and liking it. Not because of something socially manufactured like gender difference, or one kind of elemental ghoul being inferior to another. Only losing and being forced to face the additional feelings that rise to the surface alongside the enjoyment of it.

I threw a lot of my own experiences of presenting masc when AFAB onto her and the experience of fear revolving around a creeping morph of a casual, competitive relationship and the sudden unstoppable approach of change- the oppressive lurch to confront it, confirm it, become something different- new on the other side. Born Again some might say...... B)

This is just a small expression of my own experiences, so it may be messy or uncomfortable for some people. Nonetheless, if even a little bit of this dynamic resonates or connects to those I hope it does I will be thrilled!

[sullina]

i think one of the biggest steps we, as a society, will be able to take towards sustainability (of, like... everything) is to eliminate the concept of manufactured obsolescence. For big stuff like houses and buildings, but also smaller stuff, especially electronics of all kinds.

And this got a bit long, but the TL;DR (too long; didn't read) is: capitalism is evil and gonna destroy the entire planet unless we abolish it as soon as possible.

There's no real reason why any kind of computer/tablet/phone/etc. can't last more than like 3 years max. It should be highly illegal for companies to push updates onto our electronics that purposely slow them down, or to stop support of "old" operating systems that aren't even 5 years old yet, in favor of getting a new phone with a new operating system for no reason other than to sell people a new phone.

Same goes for storage, kinda. I have an SD card that's about as big as a SIM card and can store 250GB of data. There's no reason why my phones internal storage is only 25GB, except to push "cloud storage" onto people for companies to secretely mine that data to push more advertising onto us. And why is it always ads, anyway? Like, at least offer me a service, but they're not doing that.

And not just phones, but literally everything. There's no reason why a fridge or an oven or an automatic feeder or ANY kind of smart device should need a wifi connection to just do the one thing it's supposed to do. None. These things worked just fine in the part when we didn't have any internet of things type bullshit, there's no reason to make these things worse except to squeeze more money out of people. (I am aware that "smart things" can be incredibly helpful for disabled people to live an independent life. However, in those cases as well, there's no reason why "no internet" should be a fatal point of failure, and there's no reason why something like a thermostat needs to have an internet connection to recieve voice commands. I mean it needs to know like... 3 or 4 words: an activating phrase, "higher", "lower", and numbers. It cannot be complicated enough to require regular updates via internet.)

and non-electronics as well.

Just take clothes.

So many clothes are made out of "polyesther" or "polyacryl" or something else with the word "poly-" at the start, which usually just means "plastic". And I'm sure there are some uses for plastic clothes like if someone has complicated allergies to a bunch of natural fibers, but there's no reason to have more than 80% of all clothes available on the market be either pure plastic or half plastic. 1) it's absolutely atrocious for the environment, because these clothes leech microplastics into waters like no tomorrow while only lasting like 5 years at best 2) they're just terrible quality-wise. I used to wear a plastic jacket in winter, and i would either sweat to death with it closed without even exhausting myself, or freeze like hell with it open. Neither of which are ideal. Then i got a cotton sweater to wear in winter and i didn't sweat, but i wasn't cold either. I was comfortably warm without getting sweaty, because the sweater let my skin breathe. Plastic can't do that. 3) Vegans can yell about this one all they want, but "vegan leather" is also just plastic. there's no such thing as "vegan leather", but ACTUAL leather may harm an animal (though with as much beef that's sold all over the world, there's no way there's a shortage of cow leather), but it's only gonna "harm" ONE animal. Not every single animal on earth due to byproducts of the manufacturing process and the fact that it never fucking goes away. And real leather is so durable. Like, sure, you kill one animal and get its skin for leather (but also its meat for food and everything else, i don't even know how much), if you care for the thing you made from its skin, you're set for literal generations, because it doesn't break after like 5 years. And if that thing does eventually break, you can still break it up and use the leather for new, smaller, things. And once those things break, too, to the point where the leather can't be reused, you can throw it away, knowing that it will decompose soon, instead of sticking around forever.

And I'm sure there's plenty more things, but it all ends up leading back to money and capitalism. Capitalism tells companies to get money. More money. More money. Get absolutely obscene amounts of money.

and of course the first question that regular people always ask is "but why?" But here's the thing: the "why" isn't important in capitalism. There's no reason behind the hoarding of wealth, because the hoarding of wealth is the reason.

and remember the saying "When the Last Tree Is Cut Down, the Last Fish Eaten, and the Last Stream Poisoned, You Will Realize That You Cannot Eat Money"?

Yeah, capitalism doesn't care about the fact that you're cutting down the last tree, killing the last fish, and poisoning the last stream. As long as you're making money, the damage you're doing is irrelevant. There's no cost too great for making money, as long as that cost isn't money.

[mus1g4]

Are different makers of inmate jumpsuits using different materials or are they all the same? If they're different what's your favorite for comfort and least favorite?

Yes.

First, there are makers like Bob Barker, Liberty (great prison uniform maker name!), Acme, Charm-Tex, Hard Time and others.

These companies make jumpsuits in a variety of colors and stripes. They use a polyester and cotton twill for durability.

Then there are the Federal and State Prison industries. 39 states and the Feds manufacture uniforms "in house" using inmate labor. Some rare uniforms are 100% cotton and made from fibers grown on the prison farms. Others use the highly durable poly/cotton combo

My favorite is a 100% cotton white jumpsuit from Texas. It's breathable and roomy and I could lounge around in one all day!

My least favorite is a Bob Barker velcro closure jumpsuit. The fabric is thick and scratchy and the velcro closure is a pain in the ass!

[psalm22-6]

The Exhibitors Herald, June 1926

The first of the deluxe presentations was at the Forrest theatre, Philadelphia, Thursday evening. The audience was composed largely of members of the Advertising Clubs of the World, which was holding an international convention in the Quaker City, and the members of the Poor Richard Club. There were also present a large turnout of society, official and judicial life of Philadelphia. The other audience, which included Mrs. Coolidge, members of the diplomatic corps and Washington newspapermen, as guests of the National Press club, viewed the picture at a special screening Friday night at Poli’s theatre in Washington. General W. W. Atterbury; Senator-elect [and notorious political boss] Wm. S. Vare; Senator [and law professor] George W. Pepper; Lieut. Commander Geo. B. Wilson, U. S. Navy [not to be confused with the character from the Great Gatsby] ; Mrs. Barclay Warburton [civil rights supporter and journalist] ; Major Norman MacLeod; E. T. Stottsbury; Paul Thompson; Alexander Van Rensselaer; Mrs. Charlemagne Tower; Dr. H. J. Tily [department story owner, mason] ; Mr. and Mrs. Theodore W. Reath; Frank Smith; Mr. and Mrs. Jos. N. Snellenburg [merchant in clothing trade] ; Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Block; Mr. and Mrs. Jules E. Mastbaum [movie theater and department store magnates] ; George Nitsche [possibly an affiliate of U. Penn]; Josiah H. Penniman [Provost of U. Penn] ; J. Willis Martin [a judge]; H. S. McDevitt; John J. Monaghan. Judge Buffington, of Pittsburgh; Thos Finletter [could be one of a a number of lawyers with this name]; Mr. and Mrs. A. L. Einstein; Maurice Paillard, French consul; Robt. Von Moschzisker [justice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania]; Mayor W. Freeland Kendrick; Geo. H. Elliott, director of public safety; Chas. B. Hall, president of City Council; Dr. Charles Hart; Rev. Wm. H. Fineschriber; Chas Fox, district attorney [could be a coincidence but Charles Fox III and IV are both currently lawyers in Pennsylvania]; John Fisler, president Manufacturers Club [golf afficianado]; Albert M. Greenfield [real estate broker and developer]; Jos. P. Gaffney; Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gimbel [department store owner]; Daniel Gimbel [brother and co-owner along with Ellis]; J. D. Lit; Richard Gimbel [son of Ellis Gimble]; Benedict Gimbel [brother of Ellis and Daniel]; Colonel Robert Glendinning [banker]; Benjamin Golder [member of the Pennsylvania State House of Representatives], Agnew T. Dice [President of Reading Railroad]. Dr. Leon Elmaleh [founder of the Levantine Jews Society of Philadelphia]; H. Gilbert Cassidy [a judge]; Utley E. Crane [author of Business Law for Business Men]; Cyrus H. K. Curtis [magazine publisher]; Chas. S. Caldwell; G. W. Cole; Hampton L. Carson [lawyer, professor, state Attorney general]; A. Lincoln Acker [Philidelphia port collector]; Max Aron [lawyer]; Eugene C. Bonniwell [a judge]; Chas. L. Brown; Edward Groome; Chas. L. Bartlett; Edward Bok [editor of the Ladies Home Journal]; Mr. and Mrs. Geo. H. Lorimer [editor of the Saturday Evening Post]; Edw. Bacon; Chas. Curtis Harrison [a judge]; Samuel S. Eels, Rev. J. J. O’Hara [future Archbishop of Philadelphia], and Bishop Thos. J. Garland, D. D. [Episcopalian bishop]

There were a bunch of Universal employees in attendance too but that's less interesting to me. Let's see who went to the Washington show

Both showings were under the auspices of Ambassador Henri Beragner of France and Marcel Knecht, French publisher and trade representative. Dr. Ferdnand Heurteur, leader of the orchestra of the Paris Opera House, came to the United States to conduct the orchestras at these two showings. Among the distinguished guests at the Washington showing were: Don Juan Riano, Spanish ambassador; Senor and Senora de Mathieu, Chilan ambassador; Raoul Tilmont, secretary, Belgium embassy; G. H. Thompson, second secretary, British embassy; A. J. Pack, British embassy; Eduardo Racedo and Madame Racedo, first secretary, Argentine embassy; Conrado Traverso, Argentine embassy; Dr. and Senora Velarde, Peruvian ambassador; Dr. and Madame Santiago F. Bedoya, secretary, Peruvian embassy; Senor and Senora Tellez, Mexican ambassador; Senor and Senora Castro, secretary, Mexican embassy; Ambassador de Martino, Italy; Colonel Augusto Villa, miltary attache, Italian embassy; Count and Countess Sommati di Mombello, Italian embassy; Signor Leonardo Vitetti, Italian embassy. Baron and Baroness Ago Maltzan, German embassy; Mr. and Madame Matsuidaira, Japanese embassy; Mr. and Madame Gurgel de Amaral, Brazilian embassy; Senor and Senora de Sanchez Aballi, Cuban embassy; Senor Don Jose T. Baron, secretary, Cuban embassy; Brigadier General Georges A. L. Dumont, military attache, French embassy; Mr. Jules Henry, first secretary, French embassy; Major and Madame Georges Thenault, French embassy; Captain and Madame Willm, French embassy; Mr. A. Konow Bojsen, secretary, Danish legation; Mr. and Madame Marc Peter, Swiss ambassador; Mr. Andor de Hertelendy, Hungarian embassay; Senor and Senora Ricardo Jaimes Freyre, Bolivian embassy. Mr. and Mrs. Timothy A. Smiddy, minister, Irish Free State; Mr. and Madame Simoposilis, Minister from Greece; Mr. and Madame Prochnik, Austrian ambassador; Mr. and Madame Charles L. Seya, Latvian embassy; Mahmoud Samy Pasha and Madame Samy Pasha, Egyptian embassy; Mr. Zdenek Fierlinger, Minister from Czechoslovakia; Mr. Simeon Radeff, Bulgarian embassy; Mr. and Madame Jan Ciechanowski, Polish minister; Senor don Manuel Zavala, Nicaragua embassy, and Mr. and Madame Bostrom, Swedish ambassador.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

House Isekai ARR Character Primer

House Isekai Masterlist Here

A quick reference post to briefly go over the main cast of House Isekai: A Realm Reborn

== Staff of New House Isekai ==

Sitri Eisner (Age: Estimated 40+ due to time passing after death)

Wife to Jeralt and mother to Byleth. Sitri was a nun at Garreg Mach before sacrificing her life so that her infant son could live.

Twenty-six years later, she would find herself resurrected by Those Who Slither in the Dark. Though the reason for this is still unknown. Wanting to honor the legacy of Byleth, and her mother figure Rhea, she has become the new headmaster of Garreg Mach Monastery.

Sitri retains most of her personality from before her death, being a gentle soul that cares heavily for the plight of others.

Sothis (Age: ???)

The goddess of Fodlan, previously using Byleth's body as a vessel. Despite that, she viewed him as a treasured friend and had been with him since birth to his death.

Sitri is her current vessel, providing advice and commentary whenever she can. Despite her status, she views Sitri as a dear friend.

Sothis has little patience for stupidity and is quick to anger, and most notably of all, always sleepy.

Original House Isekai Members -

Towa Herschel (Age: 21)

Towa was formerly a Student Council President, and is currently a Financial Instructor at Thor’s Military Branch Campus, teaching alongside Rean Schwarzer. She served as one of the main staff members of the original House Isekai, mostly handling paperwork and acting as a spokesperson for the House.

Towa is a kind, optimistic, yet serious and hard working person. She has a tendency to overwork herself, and isn't afraid to chide anyone she thinks is doing something wrong.

She despises fighting, but is willing to do so if it means protecting her friends. Towa fights with an ARCUS unit and an Orbal Pistol.

Towa is also sensitive about her short height.

Satou Kazuma (Age: 19)

Kazuma was previously killed and reincarnated into a fantasy world before becoming a student of House Isekai. He led his own group of adventurers consisting of an explosive mage, a goddess, and a paladin, though to call his group heroic or competent would be a major exaggeration.

He is cynical, blunt, lecherous, lazy, sarcastic, and whines constantly about the situations he is in. He is especially quick to hurl out insults to his own teammates and especially others. Surprising to many, he is a quick thinker, brave, and a good leader, being reliable at critical moments. His death came about due to protecting a girl he thought was in danger, and was fine with dying if it meant her life was saved.

Kazuma is a thief-class adventurer, and can easily sneak away and use his ability 'steal' to snatch any item his opponent has. He wields a dagger and sword.

He also has unusually high luck.

Rean Schwarzer (Age: 20)

Former student of House Isekai, Rean is now an Instructor at Thor’s Military Branch Campus, alongside Towa Herschel. Rean was the leader of the old Class VII, able to rally and lead his classmates through various battles that had the odds stacked against them. Rean currently teaches the new Class VII.

Rean is supporting, sociable, and modest to a fault. After serving in the military, his personality is mostly the same but now greatly tempered. He is more forthright than he used to be, and he tends to vocalize uncomfortable truths rather than coddle them.

Rean wields a tachi and pilots a magically powered mech called Valimar, the Ashen Knight.

Despite his outstanding leadership skills, he has shockingly low self-worth and is overly harsh on himself, yet very supporting to others.

Aigis (Manufacturing Age: 13)

Aigis was a former student of House Isekai, operating as a machine whose sole purpose was to exterminate monsters called Shadows. She was a key member of S.E.E.S, a group of Persona Users who was led by siblings Minato and Minako Arisato.

Before meeting the Arisato siblings, Aigis was very cold and lacked any common sense, but polite. After bonding with them and the rest of S.E.E.S, her personality became more human, but struggled with those emotions after the siblings' deaths. After accepting their deaths and moving on, she became a gentle, empathetic and strong-hearted woman.

Aigis wields various amounts of firearms and equipment, ranging from miniguns, grenade launchers, missiles, and jets, and is able to switch them on the fly. She is also a Persona User, able to summon a manifestation of herself to fight alongside her. Her Persona is Athena. She is also able to enhance her fighting prowess by initiating a mode called "Orgia", though it is only for a few moments.

Aigis is also prone to doing very strange and socially unacceptable things, due to not being human.

== Students of New House Isekai ==

Class VII: Special Operations -

They all wield "ARCUS" units that allow them to enhance their fighting prowess, coordination, and perform special skills called 'arts'.

Juna Crawford (Age: 17)

Juna is a straightforward, energetic girl and hard worker. She takes immense pride in her heritage and state. Despite her appearance, Juna admits that she appreciates being praised for her work and can be easily offended by people mocking her, intentional or not.

She fights with dual tonfas that can switch between melee weapon and guns.

Kurt Vander (Age: 17)

Kurt is a very professional and rarely flappable young man from the Vander family—a prestigious line of sword masters. He tends to be very serious and prideful to a fault.

He fights with dual blades.

Musse Egret (Age: 16)

A playful girl who doesn’t hide her interest in Rean. Despite her tendency to say some risqué things, she holds herself like a noble. She is also a tactical genius, being able to quickly analyze the situation at hand. Likewise in battle, Musse prefers staying in the back, analyzing her opponents and supporting her allies.

She wields a rifle and provides cover fire/supporting arts.

Ash Carbide (Age: 17)

Ash has a roguish rebellious attitude, speaking without respect to almost everyone and doing whatever pleases him, ignoring any sense of authority or repercussions. His attitude and skills are regarded as 'wildly unpredictable'. Yet despite this rough outward appearance, Ash has a softer and studious side.

He uses an interchangeable polearm/scythe hybrid and contains a hidden chain function.

Altina Orion (Age: 14)

Altina is mature, but fairly emotionless. Thanks to her time with Rean and Class VII, she has developed more emotions, but still tends to be serious and not fond of overly affectionate personalities.

She wields a massive robotic puppet known as Claiomh Solais, which doubles as her weapon and means of transport.

Students of the Three Houses - (OC)

Stefan Von Rothberg (Age: 16)

Stefan was born as the youngest son to a family of Nobles in the Adrestian Empire. Due to his eldest brother inheriting the family name, he was cast aside, his only friends being his combat instructor and a scientist named Valda. It was them who inspired Stefan to become a knight. He attends Garreg Mach in hopes to achieve that dream. After the events of the war, he does not like speaking about his past.

Stefan wields a sword and shield while donning massive armor.

He is part of the Black Eagles.

Astrid Morain (Age: 19)

A straightforward and friendly girl who was born into a commoner Faerghus family. Seeing tales of Knights in the old stories and the Knights of Seiros had inspired her to take up the sword. She had aspired to join the Knights of Seiros and serve the Goddess. It is also thanks to those stories she is a hopeless romantic, being completely inept at romance.

Astrid wields a lance.

She is part of the Blue Lions.

Elizabeth Mcgrath (Age: 17)

Born into a Noble family in the Kingdom of Faerghus, she was taught from a very young age that she has a duty to the commoners to protect them.. Being fueled by this sense of justice, she aspired to become the best Noble she could, and always confidently and loudly proclaims her admittedly large prowess. Despite her obnoxious tendencies, Elizabeth doesn't care about the status of one's birth.

Elizabeth is extremely proficient in light and holy magic.

She is part of the Blue Lions.

Kairos Pasha (Age: 17)

A hardworking and serious young man born into the Leicester Alliance. Kairos worked with his parents at their market stall in Derdriu. Though there is no distinct class system in the city, his parents being commoners had always had Noble families looking down on them. These experiences growing up made him foster a hatred for Nobles. He spends his free time constantly reading educational material on economics and magic.

Kairos is extremely proficient in dark magic.

He is part of the Golden Deer.

Helena (Age: 15)

Born without a family, she was raised by mercenaries, and let Helena choose the name herself when she grew old enough. Eventually, the group disbanded, leaving Helena to wander by herself, when she was adopted by a family in the Alliance who took pity on her.  Though seemingly emotionless, it is quickly revealed that she is simply stoic, and tends to dryly joke around with her friends with a signature deadpan sarcasm.

Helena wields knives.

She is part of the Golden Deer.

The Knights of Favonius -

They all wield elemental powers called "Visions": Anemo, Pyro, and Electro. All call Mondstadt their home, and Barbatos their God.

Jean Gunnhildr (Age: Early 20's)

Jean is the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. She takes her role very seriously, and assumes all responsibilities and duties personally, regardless of how trivial the task is. Although she prefers to solve things peacefully, she does not hesitate to use force.

While serious, she is very respectful and caring towards others.

She fights with a rapier and an Anemo Vision.

Diluc Ragnvindr (Age: Early 20's)

Diluc was once a confident and passionate young man, dedicated to his work with Knights of Favonius, much like his father. But after his father’s untimely death, Diluc grew aloof, bitter, and distant in part due to the Knight's mishandling of the case. Even after bringing his father's killer to justice, he kept his resentment of the Knights, believing them to be unfit for the job. He became a vigilante known as the “Darknight Hero” to protect the people of Mondstadt.

He maintains a respectful attitude to everyone except his brother.

He fights with a greatsword and Pyro Vision.

Lisa Minci (Age: Late 20's)

Lisa is the Librarian for the Knights of Favonius. She has a haphazard and carefree attitude, while still doing her job very well. Though it's usually done in a way where she can "enjoy the smaller things in life". She is dangerously intelligent, but rarely puts the effort to her duties until absolutely necessary.

Even though she is laidback, when angered, the air around her becomes electrified.

She fights with a spellbook and an Electro Vision.

Venti (Age: ???)

Venti has a somewhat recalcitrant, carefree, and playful attitude as well as a liking to rhyming in his speech. Venti enjoys roaming around Mondstadt playing songs to his people, most of whom are unaware of his true identity as Barbatos, the Anemo Archon. Despite being a god, he does want to directly interfere in the lives of his people, perfectly content that they have gotten along fine without his guidance.

He also enjoys drinking, but due to his appearance, most bars deny him due to looking like a minor.

He fights with a bow and Anemo.

== Auxiliary of New House Isekai ==

Duvalie (Age: 23)

Duvalie is the head of an elite group of knights called the Stahlritter, hailing from the same world as Rean, Towa, and Class VII. She was a former enemy turned ally due to unusual circumstances. She particularly has it out for Rean.

Due to Duvalie’s personality quirks, she is very easy to irritate, intentional or not. In part due to her young age, she dislikes being treated like a child. As a knight, she is extremely devoted to her lord, has a strong sense of justice, takes pride in her skills, and does not like incompetent fighters.

She fights with a sword and shield, and is deceptively agile, able to effortlessly close massive distances in the blink of an eye.

Raelyn Amuto (Age: ???)

Raelyn is a Space Marine from the 41st millennium, clad in ancient power armour and wielding the most potent weapons known to man, dubbed the "Emperor's Angels of Death". He is from a Chapter known as the "Lamenters", an unfortunate group of Space Marines whose accursed and haunted legacy seems to have tainted much of what they have achieved and their victories often become bitter ashes in their hands. Despite the heavy casualties they take and the endless amounts of people they failed to save, the most grievous of punishments dealt out, they fight on.

Raelyn is extremely formal, especially towards civilians, but his ferocity and brutality in battle is unmatched by anyone, crushing any who oppose the light of humanity.

He fights with massive guns called a Bolter, bullets that first enter its target then explode. He also wields a chainsword that is nearly the length of a grown man.

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Free People Ivory Valley City Top with Embroidered Detailing Sz Small.

[haloojjdjsss]

Global Vinyl Doors Market – Industry Trends and Forecast to 2028

This Vinyl Doors Market sector is rapidly evolving, with substantial growth and advancements expected by 2031. In-depth market research offers a comprehensive analysis of market size, share, and trends, providing crucial insights into its expansion. The report explores market segmentation and definitions, elucidating key components and drivers. Utilizing SWOT and PESTEL analyses, it evaluates the market's strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats, as well as political, economic, social, technological, environmental, and legal factors. Expert Competitors Analysis insights and recent developments shed light on the geographical distribution and project the market's future trajectory, laying a strong foundation for strategic planning and investment.

What is the projected market size & growth rate of the Vinyl Doors Market?

Market Analysis and Insights

Vinyl Doors Market

Data Bridge Market Research analyses that the global vinyl doors market will project a CAGR of 3.55% for the forecast period of 2021-2028. Growth in the number of buildings and construction activities especially in the developing economies, growth and expansion of real estate industry and ever-rising global population coupled with increasing personal disposable income are the major factors attributable to the growth of vinyl doors market.

From the name itself, it is clear that vinyl doors are the doors that are manufactured out of poly vinyl chloride (PVC) materials. Vinyl doors have a life of 20- 40 years as they possess high insulation property. Moreover, vinyl doors are cost efficient as they do not require any kind of scrapping or painting. Vinyl doors are increasingly gaining popularity especially in the urban region as they exhibit various beneficial properties such as high durability, high strength, UV and sunlight resistance, fire resistance, sound proof and water tightness.

Increased commercialization and changing lifestyles of humans as a result of rapid urbanization of rural and backward areas are the major factors fostering growth of the vinyl doors market. Rising preferences of high value products and growing availability of commercial and residential properties will further create lucrative growth opportunities for the vinyl doors market. Growing awareness about the benefits of vinyl doors especially in the developing economies, rising environmental concerns, stringent codes and growing emphasis on energy efficient products, growing focus of the major manufacturers on technological advancements and rising number of house redecoration and remodelling activities are other important factors bolstering the vinyl doors market growth rate.

However, intense pricing pressure over the manufacturers will pose a major challenge to the growth of vinyl doors market. Also, high prices of environmental friendly products will derail the vinyl doors market growth rate. Growing availability of low cost substitutes, lack of distribution channels and lack of knowledge about various technologies especially in the underdeveloped economies will further restrict the scope of vinyl doors growth.

This vinyl doors market report provides details of new recent developments, trade regulations, import export analysis, production analysis, value chain optimization, market share, impact of domestic and localised market players, analyses opportunities in terms of emerging revenue pockets, changes in market regulations, strategic market growth analysis, market size, category market growths, application niches and dominance, product approvals, product launches, geographic expansions, technological innovations in the market. To gain more info on vinyl doors market contact Data Bridge Market Research for an Analyst Brief, our team will help you take an informed market decision to achieve market growth.

Browse Detailed TOC, Tables and Figures with Charts which is spread across 350 Pages that provides exclusive data, information, vital statistics, trends, and competitive landscape details in this niche sector.

This research report is the result of an extensive primary and secondary research effort into the Vinyl Doors market. It provides a thorough overview of the market's current and future objectives, along with a competitive analysis of the industry, broken down by application, type and regional trends. It also provides a dashboard overview of the past and present performance of leading companies. A variety of methodologies and analyses are used in the research to ensure accurate and comprehensive information about the Vinyl Doors Market.

Get a Sample PDF of Report - https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/request-a-sample/?dbmr=global-vinyl-doors-market

Which are the driving factors of the Vinyl Doors market?

The driving factors of the Vinyl Doors market include technological advancements that enhance product efficiency and user experience, increasing consumer demand driven by changing lifestyle preferences, and favorable government regulations and policies that support market growth. Additionally, rising investment in research and development and the expanding application scope of Vinyl Doors across various industries further propel market expansion.

Vinyl Doors Market - Competitive and Segmentation Analysis:

Global Vinyl Doors Market, By Type (Panel Doors, Bypass Doors, Bifold Doors, Pocket and Others), Mechanism (Swinging, Sliding, Bypass, Folding, Revolving and Others), End User (Residential, Commercial and Others), Country (U.S., Canada, Mexico, Germany, Sweden, Poland, Denmark, Italy, U.K., France, Spain, Netherland, Belgium, Switzerland, Turkey, Russia, Rest of Europe, Japan, China, India, South Korea, New Zealand, Vietnam, Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, Rest of Asia-Pacific, Brazil, Argentina, Rest of South America, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Oman, Qatar, Kuwait, South Africa, Rest of Middle East and Africa) Industry Trends and Forecast to 2031.

How do you determine the list of the key players included in the report?

With the aim of clearly revealing the competitive situation of the industry, we concretely analyze not only the leading enterprises that have a voice on a global scale, but also the regional small and medium-sized companies that play key roles and have plenty of potential growth.

Which are the top companies operating in the Vinyl Doors market?

Some of the major players operating in the vinyl doors market are ASSA ABLOY, JELD-WEN, Inc., Marvin, PELLA CORPORATION, Masonite, VKR Holding A/S, ATRIUM WINDOWS & DOORS, Bayer Built Inc., ETO Doors Corp., JS Door Pte Ltd, Fenesta Building Systems., LIFETIME WINDOWS & DOORS, Milgard Manufacturing Incorporated., Krishna Enterprise., Dorplan, Anglian Group, Chelsea Building Products, Croft LLC., Crystal Windows Co. and SoftLite Windows & Doors among others.

Short Description About Vinyl Doors Market:

The Global Vinyl Doors market is anticipated to rise at a considerable rate during the forecast period, between 2024 and 2031. In 2023, the market is growing at a steady rate and with the rising adoption of strategies by key players, the market is expected to rise over the projected horizon.

North America, especially The United States, will still play an important role which can not be ignored. Any changes from United States might affect the development trend of Vinyl Doors. The market in North America is expected to grow considerably during the forecast period. The high adoption of advanced technology and the presence of large players in this region are likely to create ample growth opportunities for the market.

Europe also play important roles in global market, with a magnificent growth in CAGR During the Forecast period 2024-2031.

Vinyl Doors Market size is projected to reach Multimillion USD by 2031, In comparison to 2024, at unexpected CAGR during 2024-2031.

Despite the presence of intense competition, due to the global recovery trend is clear, investors are still optimistic about this area, and it will still be more new investments entering the field in the future.

This report focuses on the Vinyl Doors in global market, especially in North America, Europe and Asia-Pacific, South America, Middle East and Africa. This report categorizes the market based on manufacturers, regions, type and application.

Get a Sample Copy of the Vinyl Doors Report 2024

What are your main data sources?

Both Primary and Secondary data sources are being used while compiling the report. Primary sources include extensive interviews of key opinion leaders and industry experts (such as experienced front-line staff, directors, CEOs, and marketing executives), downstream distributors, as well as end-users. Secondary sources include the research of the annual and financial reports of the top companies, public files, new journals, etc. We also cooperate with some third-party databases.

Geographically, the detailed analysis of consumption, revenue, market share and growth rate, historical data and forecast (2024-2031) of the following regions are covered in Chapters

What are the key regions in the global Vinyl Doors market?

North America (United States, Canada and Mexico)

Europe (Germany, UK, France, Italy, Russia and Turkey etc.)

Asia-Pacific (China, Japan, Korea, India, Australia, Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia and Vietnam)

South America (Brazil, Argentina, Columbia etc.)

Middle East and Africa (Saudi Arabia, UAE, Egypt, Nigeria and South Africa)

This Vinyl Doors Market Research/Analysis Report Contains Answers to your following Questions

What are the global trends in the Vinyl Doors market?

Would the market witness an increase or decline in the demand in the coming years?

What is the estimated demand for different types of products in Vinyl Doors?

What are the upcoming industry applications and trends for Vinyl Doors market?

What Are Projections of Global Vinyl Doors Industry Considering Capacity, Production and Production Value? What Will Be the Estimation of Cost and Profit? What Will Be Market Share, Supply and Consumption? What about Import and Export?

Where will the strategic developments take the industry in the mid to long-term?

What are the factors contributing to the final price of Vinyl Doors?

What are the raw materials used for Vinyl Doors manufacturing?

How big is the opportunity for the Vinyl Doors market?

How will the increasing adoption of Vinyl Doors for mining impact the growth rate of the overall market?

How much is the global Vinyl Doors market worth? What was the value of the market In 2020?

Who are the major players operating in the Vinyl Doors market? Which companies are the front runners?

Which are the recent industry trends that can be implemented to generate additional revenue streams?

What Should Be Entry Strategies, Countermeasures to Economic Impact, and Marketing Channels for Vinyl Doors Industry?

Customization of the Report

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Detailed TOC of Global Vinyl Doors Market Insights and Forecast to 2031

Introduction

Market Segmentation

Executive Summary

Premium Insights

Market Overview

Vinyl Doors Market By Type

Vinyl Doors Market By Function

Vinyl Doors Market By Material

Vinyl Doors Market By End User

Vinyl Doors Market By Region

Vinyl Doors Market: Company Landscape

SWOT Analysis

Company Profiles

Continued...

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[aklookout]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: House of Harlow 1960 x Revolve midi slip dress gold and black print sz Small EUC.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Seokjin

After a successful day of scheming, Seokjin calls his favorite plaything to join him and Hoseok for a little fun. 

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 7.2k

🗡️ mafia au, dishonest characters, established relationship, bdsm, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: top Seokjin with mention of bottom Hoseok; top Hoseok & bottom Seokjin; scheming; mention of the use of heroin; use of the word "whore" not meant derogatorily, but not always kindly; allusion to puppy play; talk of manufacturing and selling drugs with the purpose of getting people addicted; shower play; enema play; light humiliation; ass eating & fingering; Seokjin is...morally grey at best.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! listen: Seokjin is not the nicest person, so please take the way he speaks with a grain of salt. it is hard to put everyone's full intentions into the POV scenes because i still need there to be surprises later on!!! but i feel like this is going to really help to solidify the way many of you feel about this character hehehe. i hope you enjoy!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - with minor unbeta'd edits done since.

🗡️ posted march 2024 - originally jan. 2023 | read on ao3

"She's not going to go for it," Hoseok teases as he reaches around Seokjin's broad shoulders from behind and straightens out his burgundy satin tie. 

Seokjin's tie matches a fitted burgundy Armani suit, which he wears with a cream undershirt. His hair is pushed off his forehead, bringing together the look.

He has a meeting at House of Cards with some investors who are looking to build near the Shin territory just outside Busan, in a smaller port city, and Seokjin wants to make sure those men are on Yoongi's side if push should come to shove. 

But first, he plans to make a stop by the mansion to discuss something with Yoongi's little pet. 

"She doesn't have to go for it," Seokjin responds, watching Hoseok's reflection with adoration swelling behind his lungs. Recently, Hoseok has been letting his hair grow out, and he looks devastating with dark brown waves falling past his eyes and longer bits tucked behind his ears.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, done with his task and letting his arms hang over Seokjin's shoulders. Seokjin spins on the balls of his socked feet and wraps his arms around Hoseok's waist, pulling him close. 

"I am merely planting a seed. I want the actual idea to be hers when the time comes."

Hoseok grins. "Elaborate."

"Well," Seokjin says, "for starters, the plan is terrible. Shipping her off to Busan for a week—or whatever the span of a vacation may be—is hardly enough time to turn her into an informant. She is smart enough to know that much. But I will pose it to her that way, insisting Yoongi cannot know, which will force her to stew on it. I know she wants revenge for the recent attack on Jimin at Paradise, and if Shin sends any more men to try to shake us up, it will only fuel her fire."

"And you want her to do this, because...?"

Seokjin chuckles. "Because, my love, Ryujin has always responded best to the friendships and authority of women. As sweet and empathetic as Hyunjin is, she has not gotten as close to him as we hoped. Yoongi's wolf cub, on the other hand, is the perfect bait. Not to mention, she comes from the honey bee ring, which Ryujin will sympathize with."

"And if Ryujin recognizes her from Serendipity?"

Seokjin pouts, sticking his lip out and down-turning his eyes. "Seokie, baby, you pretend I haven't thought of absolutely everything, and it wounds me."

With a roll of his pretty eyes and a soft giggle, Hoseok says, "Then humor me, love."

Seokjin rubs the tip of his nose against Hoseok's, then places a soft kiss, making Hoseok smile widely. "All we have to do is spread a rumor that Yoongi has harmed or upset her in some way. Nothing too damaging to his reputation, just a simple whisper. Ryujin may be hesitant, but, given her feelings about Yoongi, I think she will fall for it."

Hoseok leans in and mimics Seokjin's motion, rubbing their noses together, making Seokjin's heart pound just a little bit harder. "And if Ryujin doesn't believe the rumors? We don't think Yoongi was abusive to her at any point?"

"Not abusive..." Seokjin drifts off, squinting slightly while he chooses his words. "But when his parents died, he went off the deep end with drugs. All the voices have to whisper is the word heroin, and her ears will perk up."

Hoseok purses his lips, thinking over what Seokjin says but looking unconvinced.

"And anyway, she's competitive," Seokjin continues, gently kissing the tip of Hoseok's nose, "even if she doesn't buy the rumor," Seokjin kisses the apple of Hoseok's cheek, "Ryujin might still take her in, thinking she can convert her to actually become part of her family."

"Or, she might kill her," Hoseok responds with a pointed gaze.

Seokjin places a kiss on Hoseok's other cheek as he shrugs. "Sometimes, the cat must wet its feet, no matter its dislike of water, in order to eat fish."

A soft, pretty chuckle comes from Hoseok, who presses his lips against Seokjin's and then mutters, "Idioms to describe a human life, Jinnie bear? Tsk tsk."

Seokjin hums, says, "Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good," and licks over Hoseok's lips until his partner parts them, pulling him into an eager but soft kiss. 

Time comes to a halt in Hoseok's arms, and Seokjin holds him tight, kissing slow and deep, savoring each taste, touch, and sound. There is nothing in the world quite like being in his lover's arms. Even the joy of watching the light die in his enemy's eyes pales in comparison. Seokjin thinks that he would do absolutely anything for Hoseok.

"Join me?" Seokjin asks. "She may be more comfortable with you around; you seem to have made a better impression on her, anyway."

"Fine," Hoseok mutters. "But I do not condone a plan that may get her killed, just so we're clear." Seokjin playfully rolls his eyes, and Hoseok smacks him on the shoulder as he continues, "I do like the idea of her running off to Busan for a while. For her sake and for Yoongi's."

"Oh?" Seokjin asks with a curious cock of the head, studying the microexpressions that tug gently at Hoseok's lips and eyes. To the untrained pupil, one would hardly notice these quirks, but Seokjin sees everything. Hoseok is nervous.

"Namjoon thinks he's becoming unhinged again," Hoseok finally says. "Slipping from reality. He's worried about another bender...so your plan to tell the voices about heroin use seems more grounded in reality than you realize."

"And you think taking her away from him won't just make him worse?" Seokjin teases, bending at the knees to smack a kiss on Hoseok's chin. 

Hoseok nibbles on his bottom lip, considering his words. "I think she needs to spend more time out of the house, and out from under Yoongi's shadow. He is still very controlling, despite her willingness to stay, and whenever she's not directly in his line of sight, he gets paranoid and on edge."

Seokjin mulls it over. "I have noticed he is on edge more when we are away from home for extended periods."

"He needs to break out of that loop. We can't have a mad king on our hands. Especially one who could raze the city to the ground."

"So, we need to somehow get him to grant her more freedom, in a way that does not cause Yoongi to completely lose his shit," Seokjin clarifies.

Hoseok nods. "I'll talk to Namjoon about it."

"Good plan."

And with that, Seokjin presses one more kiss against Hoseok's lips, then releases him, linking their hands together as they make their way out of their bedroom, through the hallway, and down the stairs. 

"And what is our excuse for visiting the mansion?" Hoseok asks as Seokjin sits on a charcoal grey chaise lounge beside the front door, reaching for a pair of black wingtip shoes. Seokjin slides his feet into both and begins tying the laces on one after the other. 

"I am either going to catch Yoongi before he leaves for the day and discuss what he would like me to say to the investors this afternoon," Seokjin sighs, "or I will message to let him know that I was trying to catch him before he left, yadda, yadda, yadda."

As Seokjin stands and rubs his hands over his slacks to straighten them out, Hoseok pulls his black shirt sleeve back to reveal an elegant black timepiece. "He should be home for another fifteen minutes, assuming Namjoon is making him punctual and not late."

With a pleased hum, Seokjin offers an elbow and says, "The weather is nice. Shall we walk?"

The weather truly is beautiful, and the two of them take their time, walking hand in hand along the gravel path. Seokjin does not like to be nostalgic, but it is hard not to smile as he remembers the years spend in this secluded stretch of trees with Hoseok, before there were mansions on the property, and they would steal away to be alone.

As timing will have it, Yoongi and Namjoon are just about to leave when Seokjin and Hoseok arrive. Seokjin can hear the two of them laughing on the other side of the bulletproof door and opts to use the large brass knocker rather than scan his retinas, and all that. 

The door swings open to Namjoon's tired but smiling face, and he walks outside, followed by Yoongi. They are in their standard black outfits, and Yoongi wears a cardigan rather than a blazer. Seokjin wonders what the two of them may be up to; Yoongi only mentioned meeting with some people concerning the mess Jeongguk recently made—which, Seokjin thinks, is a very flippant way to address a killing spree. 

"Gentlemen," Yoongi calls with his arms held wide, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Looking sharp, Jin," Namjoon mutters, making Seokjin grin. 

"My reason to visit today is twofold," Seokjin begins. "I was hoping the chef was in so I could have a plate of his fabulous eggs benedict.

"Of course," Yoongi responds with a smile. 

"And, I wanted to let you know that I will be meeting with the Choi brothers about their desire to open a casino near Busan."

Yoongi hums and then nods. "The chef is in, although, I am surprised you haven't perfected the recipe on your own."

With a shrug, Seokjin lies, "There is something about his hollandaise sauce that I cannot quite nail, but he refuses to give me the recipe." 

The truth is that the chef adds horseradish rather than dijon mustard, and just a dash of dried ginger, giving it more of a bite. Seokjin figured it out almost immediately, but he likes that the chef can whip it up on a whim, saving him the trouble of purchasing the ingredients and doing it himself.

"And the men?" Yoongi asks as he reaches into his front pants pocket, pulls out a metal cigarette case, and opens it, revealing a row of perfectly rolled joints. 

"Shall we offer to buy them, or shall we threaten them?" Seokjin simply asks.

With a smirk and a shrug, Yoongi pulls a joint to his lips, muttering, "Offer first, threaten second?"

Seokjin nods, watching as Namjoon pulls a lighter from his pocket and ignites Yoongi's joint, feeling glad that the two of them are finally able to be together once more. Yoongi needs a lapdog more than anything, and Namjoon is the perfect fit. 

"Excellent," Seokjin says with a small bow, "then I will be on my way to the kitchen. Shall I order an extra serving for the wolf cub?"

Yoongi takes a long drag of the joint, holds it in, and then slowly lets it out, creating a plume of skunky smoke between them. "I doubt she'll be up for another hour or so."

Perfect, Seokjin thinks; he actually was hoping to be fed. "Sounds good."

The front door hadn't been closed completely, so Seokjin enters the mansion easily, stepping aside to remove his shoes while Hoseok does the same. They close the door tight and make their way toward the kitchen. 

"You're so hot when you lie," Hoseok mutters, leaning in close enough for Seokjin to smell his cologne.

Seokjin twists and bends to place a kiss on Hoseok's lips, saying, "As are you, my love."

* * *

Despite having to wait more than thirty minutes on the balcony for Yoongi's darling to wake up, Seokjin considers their little meeting a success. He was certainly able to get into her head and could tell she was not ready to completely write off the idea of taking a trip by the time they made their exit, giving him just enough time to get into town on schedule for his meeting.

House of Cards is a raucous place even in the daytime when fewer men are around to throw away their money. The machines ding and play loud soundtracks, and televisions blare with various sport and fighting events. 

Seokjin enters through the main doors after leaving his sedan with valet, and he walks past all the drunks and coke heads with a straight face, making his way to his decoy office on the main floor to meet with some men whom Namjoon claims are going to be good for business if they can manage to keep him on their good side, and bad for business if they do not. 

Frankly, Seokjin could hardly give a fuck about what is good for business—Yoongi has inherited one of the oldest families in Korea, and by far the wealthiest. House of Cards brings in money simply by existing, and he hardly has to do any actual work. The boxing nights were Jeongguk's idea because he likes watching men fight to the death, and the wealth gained from those simply fuels the family's more expensive drug habits. 

The Shins in the east hardly have a stronghold on their own docks, and the Songs in the south are happy to form an alliance when the price is right, showing loyalty to no one but their own pockets.

Rumor has it the Song family turned down the Choi men because they do not wish to be in the business of entertaining tourists, and a casino might bring in the wrong crowds. Let the tourists flock to Jeju, they say, and Seokjin agrees. The Shins, on the other hand, are desperate for anything they can get their fingers on, and more or less offered them a stretch of land. 

All Seokjin has to do is offer the Choi brothers more money and an illusion of influence. Seems like the easiest thing in the world. The only variable he thinks that could possibly make those men want to side with the Shins would be an old family bond or rivalry, and as far as he can tell, these men have neither. So now, all he has to do is meet with them and find out what he can find out. 

Seokjin has a way with men. A look, a gesture, and a veiled threat are all he needs to get them talking. He has no doubt he will be able to make these men sing. 

* * *

Seokjin barely manages to light a cigar before his phone rings. The Choi brothers left mere minutes ago, and Seokjin had been hoping for a moment of alone time, but it is his informant who has been living with the Shin family, which makes this call potentially very important.

"Hyunjin, darling, what's the news?"

Seokjin sits back in his large, black leather chair, listening to the shocks whine as he leans, bending the springs a bit too far. He is in his real office on the second floor, and has a cigar between his teeth, slurring his words around it while he holds his cell phone to his ear. His informant, who works on Ryujin's drug-running team, sighs. 

"She plans to intercept Yoongi's next shipment of pills. Apparently, one of his dock men was bought. A man by the name of Kang Daesung is going to steal the shit."

"Fuckers," Seokjin mutters, spit flying from his lips. He takes a puff from the cigar and holds the smoke in, then lets it out with a bitter huff. It feels lackluster now, and he gently stubs the cigar out on a golden ashtray, then sets it aside to let it extinguish itself the rest of the way. 

Shin has really been coming for the drug operations, which has Seokjin feeling concerned for Jeongguk's safety. And his sanity.

"I am also one of the only people who knows this information, so now that I have passed it along, I have put a target on my back."

Seokjin hums and considers his options. 

"You want to come home, or hop off the peninsula for a while?"

Another sigh comes through the line, and Seokjin gives him time to consider. Hyunjin has been with the Shin family long enough that leaving the country may be his best bet, but he does have a family of his own, which could complicate things. 

When Hyunjin does not respond, Seokjin says, "We can get your little girl into a prestigious American school. Or Australian; there are plenty of Koreans in Australia. And we could assist with getting you and the wife nice jobs." 

"Yeah," Hyunjin says. "Yeah, you're right. I'll think it over and talk to Jisu. Maybe Australia would be good."

"Let me know," Seokjin says as he thumbs through his files, opening a folder that reads "Hwang Hyunjin'' and pulling out documents. "Your passport is current, and I have a burner identity on the books with a line of credit. I can have you on a flight within an hour, any time, day or night, alright?"

"Thank you, Seokjin-ssi."

As they end the call, Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He hates giving Yoongi bad news. This will also put another man in Jeongguk's crosshairs, and Seokjin really hopes that hunting him down will not also include killing fourteen of this man's closest friends. 

Seokjin dials Yoongi and is surprised he picks up on the first ring. "Jin."

"Yoongichi, bad news." 

Yoongi sighs and hums, and Seokjin continues. "Hwang called. Says Kang is planning to switch teams and sabotage the next shipment of pills."

"She bought him, eh?" Yoongi asks. 

"Yup."

"Fuckers."

"Yup."

"What about Hwang?"

"I offered him an out, and he said he would think about it. Considering Australia."

"Sounds good. I may call everyone to meet later. Taehyung has an engagement until nine, so it will be a late one if I do."

"Alright. I'm headed home soon. Should have my hands full for a few hours, so after nine is perfect."

"Thanks, Jin."

"No problem."

At least Yoongi's tone was pretty flat; no reaction from Yoongi is the best reaction. Especially if Namjoon is worried about him falling off the rails. 

This bump in the road aside, Seokjin considers the day a win, and he lifts his cigar, fits it between his lips, and lights it back up before locking up and heading out.

* * *

Seokjin My winning streak continues. This calls for celebration.

Hoseok In the pink dollhouse room?

Seokjin Of course, baby. Where else?

Hoseok ETA?

Seokjin 1 hour. Going to make a pitstop. I called Puppy, and he will be there in 20.

Hoseok  I'll be home to get our guest ready.

Seokjin Thank you, baby.

Hoseok  Anything for you, Jinnie bear.

To celebrate, Seokjin calls Hyungwon—his and Hoseok's favorite whore—to join them in one of the dollhouse rooms. Hoseok is home to get him ready while Seokjin stops at one of the boutiques to buy him a white leather muzzle that is shaped to fit a dog, with pointed ears on top and a pretty pink bow in the center. 

The pièces de résistance, however, is a bar inside the muzzle for Hyungwon to bite down on, ideally making a mess of himself with drool. 

One of Hyungwon's favorite toys is an anal plug with a long white tail, and Seokjin wants to see him with a pretty new accessory to match it. And, although Seokjin has plenty of items like this in his puppy playhouse room, this muzzle is a gift specifically for his most special whore. He is feeling rather generous tonight.

The drive home is short and sweet, and when Seokjin arrives, he is pleased to see a motorcycle parked in the driveway and light shining through the sheer white curtains of the first room on the second floor, confirming that Hyungwon has, in fact, already arrived, and that Hoseok must be getting him ready. 

Seokjin always finds it incredible how the man can strip down from all his worn, thick leather and stand in the prettiest pink lingerie, and he laments briefly that he was not home to witness the transformation. 

When Jimin first hired Hyungwon at Paradise, Seokjin thought that, perhaps, the heavens had opened up and shined just for him. He has a cold indifference to him that makes Seokjin want to break him apart and make him sob. And he does.

Hyungwon is the only man who allows Seokjin to do every little sadistic thing he desires, then leaves at the end of the session with a soft kiss and a promise to return. Seokjin treasures him dearly. 

Many whores blacklist him for less. 

Of course, now that Jimin has returned to their bed, Hyungwon may have to take second place, but that is a discussion for another time. Seokjin is eager to make Jimin sob again and again, but he worries about coming on too strongly and scaring him off. Jimin has always been quite sensitive, which Seokjin will never understand, but he does his best to respect it.

Seokjin takes his time exiting the car, grabbing the black paper shopping bag with an expensive monogram on all sides. He knows the men have heard his car pull up, and he wants to draw out the anticipation and make them wait. 

Hoseok, in particular, hates to wait. His temper is as explosive as the incendiary devices he so enjoys crafting, and Seokjin takes pleasure in pushing his buttons.

As he punches the hex code of his partner's favorite shade of sunshine yellow into the door and waits for the device to scan his retina, Seokjin takes a deep breath and allows a hint of a smile to creep over his face.

Things within the family have been a bit of a mess lately, but everything seems to be going fairly well, aside from their drug runner turning heel. Men on the lower ranks tend to chase money, after all; they are no stranger to these types of incidents.

If he can ensure the Choi brothers remain loyal and convince Yoongi's darling to leave town for a while, everything might even be perfect for some time. Seokjin hesitates to dwell on the thought.

Once inside, Seokjin closes the front door as quietly as he can and has a seat on his chaise lounge to remove his wingtips one at a time, placing them carefully beside the rows of footwear. Then, he takes the handles of the bag gently in his fingers and creeps up to the second floor, stalking like a tiger in the hope of catching the men off guard. 

He can hear their voices coming from the room, though what they are saying is difficult to make out. Hoseok has an excited lilt to his voice, and Hyungwon is speaking too softly to be detected clearly. Hyungwon is often quite soft-spoken—another thing Seokjin enjoys about him. 

As Seokjin gets to the top of the stairs, he forgets that the landing step is particularly creaky, putting down his weight as the wood whines beneath his toes. He lets out the breath that he had been holding, dropping his head in a defeated sigh as a tuft of brown hair shoots out from the first door on the right, and Seokjin spots his partner. 

"Gotta get that step fixed," Seokjin complains as he straightens his posture and smooths down his burgundy jacket. 

Hoseok grins from ear to ear, and he stands in the doorway to the pink dollhouse room with his hair disheveled and the top four buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sight of exposed sun-kissed skin has Seokjin's heart thudding behind his ribs, and he lifts a brow, playfully assessing the sight. 

"Did my puppies begin without me?" he teases as he approaches with his shoulders hunched forward to give Hoseok the impression that he is stalking his prey.

Hoseok chuckles, and Seokjin can tell he is feeling shy from the accusation as he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Hyungwon messed up my hair because he wanted you to think we had started without you. But we are being good puppies, I promise."

With a hum, Seokjin stalks further, watching Hoseok become increasingly antsy the closer he gets. "And is he all ready for me?"

"He is," Hoseok beams, taking a step back to allow Seokjin to enter the room. 

Seokjin, however, pounces, pressing Hoseok into the far side of the door frame and caging him in with his arms, giving him nowhere to go. With a hand on the dollhouse room wall and the hand holding onto the shopping bag on the hallway wall, Seokjin towers over his partner and gazes down at him hungrily.

"But are you ready for me?"

A silly question, since a stipulation to being Seokjin's lover is to be ready at all times. Hoseok cleans himself every morning, and he inserts a plug every time Seokjin is expected to be home so that there is very little need for prep and Seokjin can take what he wants. 

Of course, Seokjin is no monster; if they are unable to engage in play, Hoseok simply removes the plug—or gets himself off and then removes it—ensuring that it does not stay nestled up inside him long enough to cause any kind of complications or health risks. 

But Seokjin tries to be very clear about his expectations, and they communicate their schedules in order to make sure Hoseok can be ready for him at the drop of a hat. Seokjin's appetite is insatiable, and it is not unusual for them to fuck five or six nights a week. One of the reasons they invite so many whores to play dress up and join them is to give Hoseok a little extra help. That, and whores tend to come pre-used.

A plus side of fucking Jimin back in the day was when he would come home from the club, already stretched from his clients. Even when he would whine about being sore and sensitive, he would be such a good, pliant boy for Seokjin. Not a day goes by that Seokjin doesn't dream about the sweet sounds Jimin would make, becoming an overstimulated, sobbing mess long before either of them would reach their first orgasm. 

Hoseok's smile falters ever so slightly, and Seokjin already knows what he is going to say. He must have assumed that, because they have a guest for the night, Hoseok would not be expected to be stretched. He should know by now that when Seokjin calls with good news, that a victory fuck is in order, whether or not they are tending to a guest for the evening. 

And this, Seokjin thinks, is the danger of falling in love. Years ago, Seokjin would plot ways to punish his puppy for being so short-sighted and disobedient. But now? Staring into his deep brown eyes, downturned beneath a knit brow, all Seokjin wants to do is kiss him and tell him everything will be alright. His heart has become soft. 

Before Hoseok can excuse his bad behavior, Seokjin plants a soft smooch on the tip of his nose and grins. "I'm kidding," he assures softly. 

"You're not," Hoseok groans as relief paints his face. 

"I'm not," Seokjin admits, taking a step back and allowing Hoseok to breathe. "But I am in too good of a mood to make you cry."

"Lucky me," Hoseok teases with a wink. 

Seokjin leans in and places a kiss on Hoseok's forehead, then enters the room. The walls are all painted cotton candy pink, and there is a large bed on the left with plush pink bedding and a white wrought iron sleigh frame with beautiful spiral designs at the head and foot—perfect for attaching restraints. 

Hoseok's favorite addition to the room is a pale pink sex swing that hangs from the center of the space, with vines wrapped around the long arms that stretch to the ceiling. Seokjin is partial to the vanity with a large mirror that is very sturdy and perfect for humiliation play. 

The wooden furniture and wainscoting are all painted pink with gold accents, the floor is covered in pink carpeting and large, white cloud-shaped rugs, and every light fixture is a giant, white orb. In the corner of the room furthest from the bed is a chair in the shape of a giant pink high-heel, and when Seokjin enters, that is where he finds their guest. 

Hyungwon is breathtaking in sheer pink babydoll lingerie with little ruffled sleeves that hang from his shoulders, and a skirt that falls just above his thighs. He reclines on the shoe chair with one knee bent, bare foot adorned with pretty silver chains and rings, perched delicately atop the chair, and the other leg down, spread slightly to accommodate for the chair's width. His hair is long enough to be styled behind his ears—straight and black as a raven's feather—and he wears a thick silver choker of shimmering zirconias and a glittery lip balm.

"Master Seokjin," Hyungwon states as he moves from his reclined position—which Seokjin assumes he only sat in to be a tease, in the first place—and slowly lifts his leg, leaning forward and getting onto his hands and knees. "You look ravishing tonight, sir."

Seokjin turns to Hoseok with a puzzled expression, then back to Hyungwon, "Baby, did you give our pet permission to speak?"

"I did not, sir," Hoseok responds simply, standing near the wall with his arms flat at his sides. "But you do look ravishing tonight, sir."

How in the world Seokjin wound up with two disobedient puppies, he will never know, but he cannot bring himself to be upset when they are so devastatingly pretty and so good to him. Seokjin reaches to tap the underside of Hoseok's chin with the pad of his finger—a playful gesture that also tells him to keep that gorgeous fucking mouth of his closed unless he is asked to open it.

Hoseok smiles, winks, and does not say another word.

"I got you something," Seokjin beams as he turns back to Hyungwon, closing the gap between them. 

He reaches into the bag, pulls out the leather dog muzzle, and holds it up. Hyungwon's eyes widen, and a soft smile plays on his lips. If the man truly is excited, Seokjin has no idea; all he cares about is that he acts the part, as he is paid to do. And Hyungwon, as always, is a brilliant performer.

* * *

The shower down the hall in the guest bathroom runs as Seokjin pushes a hand through his hair, walking from the dollhouse room to his bedroom. His cream shirt is unbuttoned and hung open, burgundy pants are undone, and he is covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Hyungwon practically needed to be carried away when Seokjin was finished with him, and Hoseok is currently assisting with washing him and tending to his various marks with creams. Seokjin was not too hard on him, but his nails did break skin a couple of times, and he spanked him until both cheeks were tomato red. 

Although it is getting late, Yoongi has called to request everyone to congregate at the mansion at the top of the hour. It gives Seokjin thirty-five minutes to change into a black dress shirt and slacks and see that Hyungwon is able to get home on his own or has a suitable bed to sleep in for the night. Ordinarily, Seokjin is not as kind to his whores, but after what he did to the guy's ass, he takes pity on him for driving out on a motorcycle. 

The sound of the shower shutting off is followed by muffled voices, and Seokjin shrugs out of his shirt, dropping it into a hamper near the closet door, and grabs a black shirt from a hanger. He attempts to listen for the men—to get a sense of whether or not Hyungwon will need to stay—but all he can make out is Hoseok's bright, happy laughter. 

Seokjin loves it when Hoseok laughs loud and unabashedly. It rings like music to his ears. 

"Baby?" Hoseok calls down the hallway. 

Seokjin takes a step out of the closet as he buttons his shirt and shouts, "Bedroom," then returns to the racks of clothing and wiggles out of his slacks, picking them up and placing them into the hamper, and then reaching for a black pair to slide into.

"Ah," Hoseok says as he rounds the corner and finds Seokjin dressed in all black. "Yoongi called."

"He did," Seokjin responds. 

"For all of us?"

"For all of us."

"Hyungwon should be good to drive, but I'll go check on him."

Seokjin flashes Hoseok a smile. "Thank you, love."

Once he is ready, Seokjin switches off the light and exits his and Hoseok's massive closet, then he leaves the bedroom and makes his way down the hall, to the pink dollhouse room. The dark wood wainscoting and blood-red walls adorned with pretty brass sconces is such an abrupt change of scenery compared to the pink playroom, and from time to time, it makes Seokjin chuckle softly when he leaves one atmosphere for the other. 

Hyungwon sits on the edge of the bed dressed in blue jeans, a blue and white flannel shirt, and a black leather jacket, with his hands in his lap. Hoseok stands before him, dabbing a salve to his lip, which Seokjin split from slapping a little too hard once the muzzle came off. To Seokjin's credit, Hyungwon was the one who begged him to hit him harder. 

As Seokjin enters, both men turn to him with smiles, and Seokjin leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"How is our puppy feeling?"

"Amazing," Hyungwon responds, always saying so no matter which state he seems to be in. 

"Good. And I take it your ass isn't too sore for the bike?"

Hoseok shoots Seokjin an incredulous glare, which he pointedly ignores. 

Hyungwon chuckles quietly. "No, sir. Not too sore."

"Good. I will be downstairs, then." He turns his gaze to Hoseok. "Join me soon?"

Hoseok nods and screws the cap on his balm, then leans to place a soft kiss on Hyungwon's forehead as Seokjin takes his leave and goes downstairs, to the kitchen, to have a few shots of whiskey before heading out to Yoongi's place. 

It does not take long for the others to join him, and they bid Hyungwon farewell with kisses to his cheeks and forehead, then link hands and take the long way to Yoongi's property, up toward Taehyung's place and cutting through the gardens. It is eerie out here at night with low lighting and tall, dark shadows. They walk all the way around the mansion, to the front door, and find Taehyung and Jeongguk on the stoop, smoking a cigarette.

"Fellas," Seokjin calls, and everyone lifts their hand hello.

"Is it just us?" Hoseok asks, and Taehyung shakes his head, saying, "Jimin is inside."

Seokjin takes a puff from Taehyung's cigarette, then goes inside, happy to find Jimin and Namjoon seated on the couch as he takes his place on the far end. Seokjin assumes Yoongi would be upstairs and is surprised to see him enter through the front door with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Once they are all seated, Yoongi begins. 

"We have two orders of business, which are somewhat related. The first is that Jeonggukie has been working with a team to formalize a new type of ecstasy that contains amphetamines, to give the user more of an upper-type high. It will be smoother than the shit the Americans sell, which contain meth, and the users will crave the experience, ideally getting them hooked on it."

This news comes as somewhat of a surprise to Seokjin, but he does not show it, keeping his expression stoic. He is curious when Yoongi decided to pivot into selling drugs for the purpose of creating addicts, and thinks perhaps the man really is losing his mind. He sounds like his late father, which is no compliment.

Yoongi continues. "So far, the trials have been pretty positive, and we should have those on the streets within the next month, or so. Let Jeongguk know if you would like samples."

Yoongi sits up and sighs, "And for our second order of business, it seems our main dock man Kang has been bought, and he plans to fuck with our next shipment of pills. I will be orchestrating a hit some time this weekend."

"I can go," Jeongguk offers, and Seokjin is pleased when Yoongi holds his hand up, turning him down.

"I need you to stay here this weekend. I want us to start going to the range again, and there are some other things I want you around for. I'll put Changkyun on the job."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to complain, and Yoongi cuts him off. "Ggukie, we have men hired to carry out hits. Let me utilize them."

Silence falls, then Namjoon clears his throat. "Is there anything anyone else would like to share?"

Seokjin cannot believe everyone was called over for this, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glances around. When nobody says anything, he shrugs and says, "Guess that's it."

"Alright," Yoongi says as he slaps his palms over his knees and stands with a sigh. "I thought this would be more of a conversation, but it seems pretty cut and dry. Thanks for coming by."

Seokjin studies Yoongi as he stands, curious about what Namjoon sees that makes him so paranoid. There are bags under his eyes, and he seems quite tired, but he does not seem jittery or pale, or any of the other symptoms Seokjin tries to remember from his last bender. 

It could be his more recent shift in seeming colder than usual. Prior to the pet moving in upstairs, Yoongi even went so far as to have a nasty little violent streak. Still, violence is not an indicator of drug abuse.

Yoongi has always been good at hiding shit until it is really bad, however, and he has always been quite unreadable, wearing parts of himself on his sleeve while keeping the rest locked away. He hopes that Namjoon's suspicions are false, but nobody would know better than him.

With that, everyone stands to leave, including Yoongi. In fact, the only person who seems to hang back is Namjoon. They say good night, everyone begins to head back to their homes, and Namjoon locks up the mansion as Yoongi slides his hands into his pockets and sets off in the direction of Namjoon's home.

Something is definitely amiss, but Seokjin does not feel like asking. The warmth of Hoseok's hand pulls him from his thoughts as he is tugged in the direction of home.

When they return from the meeting that could have been a conversation via group text, Seokjin sits with a huff on his chaise lounge. He bends his leg to lift it in order to untie his shoe, but Hoseok drops to his knees and places a hand on Seokjin's foot, guiding it to the floor. 

"You seem off, baby," Hoseok mutters sweetly. "Let me take care of you."

With an affectionate smile, Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest and lets his posture droop in a sigh. "Always taking care of others."

Hoseok's eyes shine as he mutters, "I live to serve."

Seokjin chuckles and sits up straight as Hoseok removes one shoe, then the other, and places them neatly aside. "We both know that is untrue."

"Yes," Hoseok responds, also laughing. 

Seokjin leans forward, takes Hoseok's chin in his hand, and pulls him close. Hoseok strains to get near enough, sitting high on his knees, but Seokjin stays just out of reach as he says, "You can still take care of me, though."

He revels in the way Hoseok's tone drops as he asks, "And how would you like me to do that, baby?"

Seokjin begins to think of all the ways he would like to make Hoseok whine, but Hoseok continues, "It's been a while since you've submitted to me and completely let go of control."

It has been a while. Probably months. Seokjin mulls it over with a squint of his eyes. There is nothing in this world that he likes more than pulling sweet sounds from Hoseok's lips, but he knows that Hoseok also enjoys being in control. However, relinquishing power does not come easily to a man like Seokjin.

"You are correct," Seokjin finally responds. "It has been a while."

Hoseok's eyes glimmer with mirth, and even if Seokjin had not been considering it before, he would certainly cave now. With a nibble of his bottom lip, Seokjin leans close enough to kiss Hoseok. 

"I'll let you fuck me tonight. Give me twenty minutes to get ready?"

With a pout, Hoseok shakes his head. "I want to get you ready."

"Oh?"

"Please."

"Enema play, Seok? Really?"

Hoseok shrugs. "I want to watch you tremble and whimper as the water falls out."

Seokjin, admittedly, gets it. "Alright, let's go."

Hoseok is gentle as he takes Seokjin's hand and leads him up the stairs and down the hall to their master suite. He is gentle as he undresses him and leads him to their shower. Gentle when he bends Seokjin over—hands splayed on the white tile bench that runs along one wall—and inserts the nozzle of the enema. Seokjin gasps from the sensation; he hasn't done this in quite a while.

When Hoseok takes Seokjin by the hair and lifts his head, pulling him into a standing position, he is less gentle. Lifting the bag, which is full of tepid water, so that it can enter his body makes Seokjin gasp, sending a shudder through him. 

Hoseok holds his chin, firm and not very gently as he says, "Eyes on me," and slowly pulls the nozzle out, releasing the water to the floor of the shower. 

Seokjin keeps his eyes on Hoseok as the water rushes from him, a sensation that he thinks should not be in the least bit erotic. Hoseok knows that this is mildly humiliating, which, Seokjin thinks, is the reason he is insisting on it. 

Hoseok inserts the nozzle two more times, sending water rushing from Seokjin's rectum, holding him in place while they stare into one another's eyes. Warmth covers Seokjin's face in a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and when Hoseok bends him back over right there in the shower to eat him out, Seokjin practically blacks out. 

"Fuck, feels so good," he whimpers as Hoseok teases his hole with his tongue, circling the rim and prodding inside. 

"You like it, baby?" Hoseok groans, biting Seokjin's buttcheek and circling a finger over him, gently pushing inside and pulling out, making Seokjin sigh and tremble from pleasure-pain. 

"You know I do," Seokjin whines.

Hoseok groans. "Too bad I won't let you cum until you're begging and sobbing."

Evil. Pure fucking evil. Hoseok loves making someone like Seokjin beg. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and Hoseok chuckles and crashes a hand over his ass with a loud, wet smack.

"Come on, big boy," Hoseok sing-songs "Let's tie you to the bed and make you scream."

Seokjin already fears for his life, knowing that Hoseok will edge him for hours. But the earth-shattering orgasm that tears his world asunder, followed by Hoseok's sweet, pretty smile, makes everything worth it. How could he possibly resist?

*

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG!!!

i didn't give Hyungwon a relationship tag since he's not a main character in the story, nor does he appear again. for those of you who aren't monbebe, this is the man i was talking about:

i also remember being too exhausted to write a smut scene when i was putting this POV together, which is why we don't get to experiencing these three together hahaha. i think i wrote Hoseok and Seokjin back to back.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one! if you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!!! 💜💜💜

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