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theharrowing · 1 year ago

Text

Revisit Thoughts:

omg, i posted this revisit last night but somehow the chapter's read more was missing??? and i ended up just raw dogging 16.4k words on main without a cut, so i am reposting this morning SORRYYY hehehe.

i am not even joking, Haegeum came out on April 20, completely changing the trajectory of this story and solidifying once and for all that i would definitely have a sequel, and even causing me to write a good chunk of the first chapter of the sequel before i wrote this chapter and published it 4 days later.

and although the Taehyung POV comes before this one and includes details that were affected by this chapter, i actually posted it about a month later and snuck it in there. (i also wrote the Hoseok POV after this chapter and snuck it in way up above chapter 14, which is why there are conversations taking place that i did not even have set in stone until this moment in Collateral time.) i worried it would be confusing for readers, but they didn't seem to mind. 😅😅😅

adding in this chapter extended the story from 20 to 21 total chapters planned, and caused me to completely change large details in the outline. of course, i cannot tell you what those details are because they are huge spoilers. if i ever do a Reconciliation revisit in 1.5 business years, perhaps i will divulge everything then!

HEHEHEHE i found an errorrrr. when Namjoon's phone rings, it says you recognize the ringtone from when Yoongi called Namjoon while the two of you were at his house, but the phone only vibrated in that scene. whoopsie daisy hehe. (edited.)

man i really opened this chapter with a potential bombshell and then dove headfirst into a long ass smut scene. of all the things i remember from this chapter, this scene was not one of them lmao.

you know i couldn't resist an "I feel like Tony Montana." especially with him dressed that way.

🧼📦 ugh researching private jets for this fic (and for Dollhouse) made me wanna barf. i do not respect jets or yachts. they are such a waste of resources, including money!!! (i also do not respect any of the brands that i name drop tho, let's be honest. nor am i impressed when idols wear this shit. even if i praise how good someone looks in a certain brand shoot, it is likely they also look good in rags, so like...the brand really means nothing in the long run.) it is so wild to look up all this bullshit and pretend that it is exciting when i would rather watch it all burn so we could distribute that wealth and take care of our poor. "sleek marvels of modern design" 🤮🤮🤮 ANYWAYYYYY that's my soapbox moment lmao back to the fic. 🧼📦

oh man, spoiler alert for the end of Scarface haha sorry, friends!!! (it's a 40 year old movie hahaha.)

bringing Balming Tiger into the fold was fun, and i actually learned some of their names while writing this chapter despite being a fan of theirs (i had just seen them live about a month before writing this chapter!) it is not Seungmin from Stray Kids, but the member who goes by Mudd the Student.

i was wondering (after reading Jungkook's POV) if we would see the zippo lighter again hehehe.

take a shot whenever i use the word "harrowing" in a fic lmaoooo.

Taehyung casually calling Namjoon & Yoongi "the doom boys" (Sexy Nukim reference) is especially cute because i like to imagine that that's what the terror twins call them behind their backs in the same way that the doom boys call them the terror twins behind their backs.

Taehyung cutting himself during the knife game was inspired by my partner cutting me while trying to jokingly play the knife game (laying his flayed hand over mine and poking the knife between our fingers together) and look i know how that sounds okay, but i promise you, i am safe and loved in this relationship and the cut on the side of my thumb was not very deep (tbh he barely knicked me but the knife was stupid sharp.) this is the same person who suplexes me on every hotel bed we have ever slept on and i love him very much. 😅😂😂

i love that despite how chaotic these situations with all of them seem, they still find time to communicate boundaries. idk if i could write it differently, tbh. especially given both mc's and Jungkook's backgrounds, it feels best for the two of them to treat one another with a lot of care. of courses, that won't stop Jungkook from being a complete and utter menace, don't worry.

added Kamehameha by Balming Tiger to this chapter!!! i am off to sleep now, good night!!!😴💤💜

Collateral 🗡️ 15: The end of an era

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader 🗡️ word count: 16.4k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 🗡️ chapter warnings: mention of heroin, complicated feelings, smut (oral and vaginal sex, mmf threesome), trauma response, Yoongi wearing a Haegeum outfit, cocaine use, description of the knife game, an unexpected soft moment and kiss (!!!) 🗡️ note: mc visits Hong Kong. just as i said in the master list post about Korea, all scenery is completely made up. i don't know anything about Hong Kong and i do not wish to describe any neighborhood of Hong Kong in a negative light, so if anything sounds familiar, it is a coincidence. we also meet some of the members of Balming Tiger! and i realize that the mood board is not totally symmetrical but it was important for me to put Haegeum Yoongi in the center.

🗡️ speaking of Haegeum: thank you to everyone reaching out to scream with me about Haegeum!!! it has been a very exciting time to be a crime boss Yoongi author, and sharing the excitement with all of you has been a fucking blast!!! 😍💜 i love my readers very much! thank you all for being here!!! 🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! 🗡️ posted on april 2023 | read on ao3

As you step out of your shower, the first thing you notice is the sound of voices coming from outside your bedroom door, shouting. One of them is deep enough to be Namjoon, and the other is hard to make out. Could there be something Namjoon is upset about?

This morning, when you woke up to just Namjoon in the bed beside you, he mentioned that he and Yoongi had a surprise for you, and that you would find out in the evening. There was a tone to Namjoon's voice that you have been trying not to overthink, especially after he asked you for some privacy in the master suite, and you left him to himself with a kiss to his cheek, padding off to your cold, desolate room.

He just seemed…off. Contemplative, maybe. Something seemed to be bothering him, and now that it sounds like he is out in the mezzanine shouting at someone, you begin to feel worried.

You dry off and take your time rubbing lotion over your legs and arms, curious for more sounds without trying too hard to overhear. Once you are finished and leaving the bathroom, making your way into your closet, his voice is much clearer through your bedroom door—it is definitely him.

Somewhat thoughtlessly, you begin to push back hangers of clothing, listening intently while looking for something cozy to wear, not wanting to return to the master suite for some of Yoongi's sweatpants, when you hear Namjoon shout, "Jeon Jeongguk, don't you fucking play stupid with me!"

Your hand hovers over the row of dresses dangling from hangers, and you absent-mindedly begin to dance your fingertips over white cotton, curious for Jeongguk's response, but his voice is too soft to make out. Surprising, considering you would imagine Jeongguk to be with one with an explosive temper.

With a sigh, you decide you should get dressed and investigate. Perhaps your presence will help to calm Namjoon. And anyway, you have not seen Yoongi all day, and you feel eager to go ask after him. Last night, after he got word that his informant was dead, it took some coaxing from Namjoon to get him to come to bed, and he gave Yoongi something—a pill, you think—to help him sleep. You were surprised to hear Yoongi snoring; whatever Namjoon gave him really knocked him out.

You step further into the closet and find a simple black sweater to put on, then rummage through your drawers for some underwear and black leggings. Once satisfied with how cozy you feel, you slide your feet into some plush dark grey slippers and make your way to the doorway.

"But this is much more serious, Jeongguk!" Namjoon shouts. "Everything we have worked for can fall apart if he starts using again!"

"I haven't been dealing fucking heroin," you hear Jeongguk respond, and that halts you in your tracks.

Could someone be using heroin? You think back to your days in the trafficking circle and how some of those men would get so fucked up on the junk, speaking nonsense and tripping over themselves. It was not rare to find a businessman slumped over dead in a dark corner or an alleyway; that drug will ruin someone's life. But none of the family men seem like the type, as far as you can tell. Could it be someone in their outer circle?

"Then where did it come from?" Namjoon asks.

You hate to eavesdrop, and you force yourself to keep pressing forward, toward the door. Regardless, this conversation seems pretty serious, and not something that should be had casually, on the mezzanine, where anyone in the house could hear, making you feel obligated to, at the very least, suggest the men take it somewhere else.

"We don't even know if that's what it is," you hear Jeongguk respond as you reach for the doorknob. "And anyway, I find it pretty fucking weird that you are going through his packages all of a sudden. Did he ask you to do that?"

When you open the door, both men jump. Namjoon looks like he has seen a ghost, face turning pale and widening with worry, and Jeongguk is no better.

"Fellas," you say, surprised when Namjoon only greets you with a limp lift of his hand.

"H-hey," Jeongguk responds. "How much did you hear?"

Dumbfounded, you open your mouth, and then immediately close it, shaking your head. Something tells you that you should not have heard any of that conversation, and you attempt to play coy.

"I only heard the sounds of shouting," you respond, holding believable enough eye contact and doing your best not to look scared. "I was in the shower. Just got out."

Jeongguk looks at your hair, and you hope he notices that it does, in fact, look freshly tended to. His posture is tense—hands shoved into the front pockets of black denim pants. It takes you off guard to see him in a simple black tee and jeans. After his brief inspection, Jeongguk lets out a deep exhale.

"I need to go meet Taehyung," he says, turning his gaze to Namjoon and raising his eyebrows as he adds, "this conversation is not over. We'll see you guys later."

As Jeongguk begins to walk down the stairs, Namjoon's posture relaxes. His shoulders fall, and you can see him regain his composure. This exchange with Jeongguk really seems to have ruffled his feathers.

"You alright, Joonbug?" you ask sweetly as you walk over and place your palms on his chest. Namjoon wears a black tee and black joggers, and as his musk hits your senses, you give him a soft smile and stand tall to press a kiss against his jaw.

"Yeah," he responds, offering an expression that is not a smile, but a failed attempt at raising the corners of his lips, making you scoff.

"Why am I not at all convinced?" you tease, kissing down his neck while your palms rub over his pecs. "You seem tense."

"I am," Namjoon mutters as he grips onto your hips with both hands, giving you a gentle squeeze and kicking up butterflies in your tummy.

If there is one thing you seem to be learning from living under Yoongi's roof, it is the art of distracting someone using sex, and Namjoon seems to be eager for distraction. You begin to walk backward, toward your open bedroom door, gripping lightly to his shirt and giving him a tug. He barely shows any resistance, and this time, his smile is real.

"Why don't you let me relieve some of that tension?"

"Yeah?" Namjoon asks, smile growing before he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a little nibble, making you wish that lip was between your teeth, instead.

"Hubby coming home soon?" you ask as you step through the threshold of your bedroom. "Should we wait?"

"Nah, he likely won't be back for a while," Namjoon grumbles, eyes losing their brightness at the mention of Yoongi.

You wonder if, perhaps, Yoongi is still taking the loss of Hyunjin pretty hard. Watching a loved one grieve is never easy, and if Namjoon was also close with the guy, his emotions must be rather turbulent right now.

Rather than let you pull him all the way to the bed, Namjoon bends and lifts you from behind the knees, wrapping you around his hips as he turns and sits down on your bed. You drape your arms over his shoulders and straddle his lap, then lean in to suck and nibble on his lip—plush and perfect.

"This how you want me?" you ask as you lick over his mouth and fix him with a dark, eager stare.

"Yeah," Namjoon responds, rubbing his hands up your thighs and grabbing your ass firmly in both hands. "This is perfect."

You lift your hips and grind them down onto Namjoon's lap, watching as his pretty mouth sighs open, and he removes his hands from you to sit back anchored on his palms, giving you more range to tease him. And tease him, you do.

With every roll of your hips, you feel Namjoon's bulge harden. Each of his gasps and groans is louder and breathier than the last, and you revel in how quickly he becomes lost in pleasure—a complete change in demeanor from how he gets when he is in control.

A particularly loud moan bursts through Namjoon's mouth, and you glance over your shoulder, remembering the door was never shut. When you turn back to Namjoon, he raises an eyebrow and groans, "Forgot to close that."

You hum and say, "We did."

"I don't think I heard Gguk leave," Namjoon says, punctuated with a gasp as you grind yourself on his semi-hard cock. "Should we leave it open for him? Put on a show?"

You playfully smack Namjoon on the back of the head, but continue your movements, feeling the urge to check over your shoulder despite being certain there is nobody out there.

"Why are you like this?" you complain, but Namjoon just grins and lays flat on the bed.

Suddenly, you want to get up and close the door. You are not sure whether you would mind having Jeongguk as an audience, but you wonder if any of the other family men could come and go at some point, or if there are staff members walking through the mansion. What if you become so lost in pleasure that you do not hear them down there?

Your hips slow, then still, and you slide from Namjoon's lap, narrowly missing his hands, which make grabbing motions for you as you get onto your feet and tiptoe to the door to close it. Of course, there is no Jeongguk within eyeshot. And what is this feeling in your gut? Disappointment?

When you turn back to the bed, Namjoon is on his feet, pulling the black tee over his head and tossing it to the floor. You do the same, lifting your black sweater off and dropping it where his shirt landed, just to the left of where you stand. You both hook your thumbs into the waistbands of your pants and underwear and bend at the hips in tandem, letting the fabric drop.

Then you stand tall and step away from the garments, raking your eyes from Namjoon's face, to his tattooed chest, down to his heavy cock and back up before placing both palms on his pecs and shoving him hard enough to send him crashing back onto the bed. Namjoon gasps and chuckles, scrambling to sit up on his elbows while you drop to your knees and spread his thighs with both hands, wasting no time to grip onto his hard, leaking length and give it a tug.

"Fuck," Namjoon whispers, letting his head loll back.

"I've barely touched you," you tease, rolling the dribbled precum into your palm and stroking over the head, back and forth with a tight grip.

"Yeah, but—" Namjoon gasps, hips bucking, "—you never touch me, so everything feels amazing."

"And whose fault is that?" you ask as you sit high on your knees and lean forward to slowly huff out a warm breath over him. Namjoon lifts his head and watches you with wide eager eyes as you jut out your lip, pouting as you say, "You never let me."

Not without permission, anyway, are the words you keep to yourself. Whatever it is that bothers Yoongi and keeps him away from the mansion, you do not want to interrupt, nor consider the ramifications of. You and Namjoon can just share this moment together.

There is something in Namjoon's gaze that you cannot decipher. It does not seem sad or angry, but it does seem a bit…lost? Distant? You are unsure. And you do not wish to find out.

Without another word, you angle Namjoon's cock toward your face, delicately holding it by the tip, and you lick from base to crown nice and slow, eyes focused on Namjoon, whose expression melts as a whimper passes through his lips. As you take his tip gently into your mouth, just between your lips, Namjoon's hips tremble.

There is absolutely no way you will be able to fit his entire cock in your mouth, but you suck as far as you can, bringing him close to your throat and swallowing around him while you slowly stroke the rest of his length with each motion. Namjoon is a mess of whimpers and gasps, resting back, anchored on his elbows while he fights between watching you and letting his head roll from side to side.

How interesting, you think, that Namjoon so easily relinquishes control without so much as attempting to be in charge, even for a moment. You half expected him to be more like Yoongi is with you, touching and guiding, maybe even telling you what to do—how he likes it. But he simply lays back and takes it, and the noises he makes are unabashed and incredible.

Perhaps, if it were later in the day, with the master of the home around, you would take your time and really pull orgasm after orgasm from Namjoon, making him cum in your throat before climbing on top to slowly fuck him until you get yourself off once or twice. But today, you want to get this show on the road. You have tentative plans later—some surprise, apparently—and you are not eager for Yoongi to walk in on the two of you like this, should his mood happen to be volatile.

Once Namjoon's moans become a long, drawn-out chorus of sounds and his thighs begin to quake rather roughly below you, you slowly pull him from your mouth, letting all the pooled saliva drool down from your tongue to his tip before gathering it beneath your palm and slathering it along his length.

"Is it okay that I fuck you already?" you ask.

Namjoon chuckles, says, "Of course it's okay," and begins to sit all the way up.

"I want to ride you," you tell him, watching his pretty, flushed face become all the more excited. "Sit back against the headboard."

With a weak, dazed nod, Namjoon slides back and brings his legs to the mattress, then crawls, moves the pillows out of the way, and settles against the light brown wooden headboard, atop your yellow comforter. You stand and get up onto your hands and knees and crawl to Namjoon, taking in his spread, thick thighs, soft but muscular tummy, unfurling dragon tattoo, and breathtaking face. You cage his hips in with your hands and continue to crawl until your legs straddle him, forcing him to tilt his head back to look up at you.

"You are perfect," he mutters as his hands lift to settle on your hips, and he stares at you with such reverence, it makes you feel shy.

"Shut up," is all you can think to say in the moment, not eager to unpack the way his expression makes your heart gallop behind your ribs.

"I mean it," Namjoon continues, voice becoming softer. "I'm falling for you, baby. You know that, right?"

Disinterested in confessions of love, of all fucking things, you reach between your legs, take hold of Namjoon’s cock and rub the head against your heat, squeezing your eyes closed and sighing through your words as you groan, “I said shut up.”

“Wait,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit when you open your eyes and gaze down at him. “Let me lick your pussy first.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, eager to be full and to get this over with before Yoongi returns. Suddenly, the thought of his presence has you feeling anxious, like perhaps you should not be doing this right now.

Namjoon's head falls back against the headboard with a thunk as he mutters, "You sure?"

You nod and line him up with your hole, saying, "Yeah, I'm sure," as you sink down.

The stretch makes you suck in air and immediately huff it out, and you loll your head back as your eyes squeeze closed, rocking your hips up and then down ever so slightly. Namjoon's fingertips grip tightly to your hips, and his sweet little sounds get louder and more desperate as you slowly work his length deeper.

"So tight," he groans, and you nod your head, still facing the ceiling. "Squeezing the fucking life out of me, baby."

Namjoon is far too thick for a quick fuck. As you lift your hips, a violent tremble of pleasure rocks through you, causing you to lean with your hands against his chest to steady yourself before you think better of leaning all your weight onto him and reaching one hand after the other to grip onto the top edge of the headboard.

"God, look at you," Namjoon groans as his hands cup both your breasts, sucking and licking at one nipple after the other, hungrily switching sides as he gently squeezes and massages the soft flesh with his palms and thumbs.

The pleasure is overwhelming as you sink back down, stretching and filling yourself while Namjoon licks, sucks, and gently nips. You take a second to let out a huff of air that blends into a moan, then lift and drop your hips, trembling through each movement as you slowly adjust to the pleasure-pain and pick up a steady pace.

"Fuck, you're too big," you gasp, biting down on your lip as Namjoon moans and sucks harder in response.

Riding Namjoon is dizzying—makes you absolutely lose your mind—and you lift your hips only to slam them down with force, feeling pleasure spark and burst throughout with each rough movement. Namjoon moans and gasps against your skin, covering you in a hot flush of goosebumps and sweat.

"Touch me, Joonie," you whine, arching your back and neck with your fluttering gaze facing the ceiling. "Make me cum."

One of Namjoon's hands falls away, and he removes his mouth from your breast long enough to wet his fingers before latching back on. The pads of his spit-slick fingertips find your clit quickly and rub in tandem with the rise and fall of your hips, causing a wave of pleasure to shoot through you and make you tremble.

"F-fuck," you whine, and Namjoon moans a deep, playful sound of encouragement.

Too easy, Yoongi's voice mocks inside your head as your arousal builds and builds. You lift and slam your ass, holding onto the headboard like a lifeline as Namjoon's fingers and mouth pull the pleasure from you steadily. At this pace, it will take you no time at all to come undone completely.

"You feel like heaven around me, baby," Namjoon mutters against your skin, lips dragging hot and wet, sending a shiver through you.

All you can do in response is let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a hum, unable to form words as Namjoon's fingertips on your clit bring you closer and closer to the edge. With a quake of pleasure throwing your rhythm off, you grind your hips forward and backward, hitting a spot that shoots a surprising wave of ecstasy through you, making your head fall forward.

That is going to make you cum, and you redirect your movements and begin to grind yourself down on him, using his cock to get yourself off as your hips move front and back in quick, desperate ellipses.

"Oh, fuck," Namjoon groans, slamming his head back against the headboard as one hand grips your ribs while he continues to circle his fingers over your clit. "That's it, baby; make yourself cum."

You whimper and moan, letting syllables fall loosely in failed attempts to praise and beg, so close to the edge that you cannot form a coherent thought, much less sentence. Namjoon must understand you, though, and he swirls his hips just enough to make every one of your movements feel more intense, causing your orgasm to hit hard and fast, throwing you completely from your axis.

You continue to grind, rushed and frantic as you chase your high, moving until it becomes too intense and you can go no longer, falling forward with your chest against Namjoon's face and your forehead resting against the headboard.

Namjoon wraps both arms around your hips and lifts, shifting beneath you without pulling out to lay you down on your back. You gasp and attempt to grip onto the yellow comforter for purchase, but Namjoon gets onto his knees and begins to fuck you through what is left of your orgasm so hard and fast that your back arcs, frozen in pleasure, with your hands open wide, unable to grasp onto anything, forcing the last ounce of your sanity to slip between your fingers.

"This what you need, baby?" Namjoon groans as sweat drips from his forehead, landing on your neck. "Cum on this cock. Show me how much you like it."

All you can do is allow your orgasm to quake through you as Namjoon fucks you into your mattress, and you are grateful for the sturdy bed frame making minimal noise. With your mouth agape, you moan and sob, and finally, when your high begins to hinge on overstimulation, you grasp onto the blanket, clutching it tight.

"Fuck," you gasp, squeezing your eyes closed. "Too much. 'S too much."

"Call your safeword if you need it," Namjoon commands as his hips continue to slam against your spread thighs.

You do not want to call your safeword. Truth be told, you hardly want him to slow down, already feeling another high wash over you, covering your skin with tingling warmth. When you open your eyes, Namjoon is frowning down at you, brows knit with concentration as he pounds his thick cock into you with no remorse, and you stretch your arms over your head and tilt your head back, basking in the feeling.

Sweat drips from Namjoon's forehead and neck, hitting your skin in cool drops, tickling as they trickle down to the comforter below. With your orgasm dissipating, you begin to worry that perhaps you should hurry up and finish before Yoongi returns. But Namjoon feels good—unrelentingly good. You do not want him to stop.

The loud, shrill sound of Namjoon's phone ringing pulls you from your thoughts, but Namjoon does not slow down, slamming you into the mattress even harder, as if desperate to get off. But then, as if coming to his senses, Namjoon slows his pace, rolling his hips while his moans fade to pants, and he acknowledges the sound.

With a sigh, Namjoon brings his hips to a stop, all the while his phone continues to ring, and you cannot help but worry that it is Yoongi on the other end. Namjoon pulls out, leaving you feeling cold and empty, and flops onto his side, hanging off the edge of the bed to search for the ringing device before pulling it to his ear and answering it.

"Hey, handsome," Namjoon says as he remains hanging from your bed, panting between words. "Yeah, we were just, uhh…keeping each other distracted until you returned."

Interesting choice of words, and although you admit that you were attempting to distract him earlier, you wonder what he thinks he is distracting you from.

"In her room," Namjoon responds after a pause, and you watch as his smile softens while he stares off to the side. He says, "We'll look forward to it...love you too," with his smile growing, then ends the call, tosses the phone back onto the pile, and sits up with a slight groan.

"I'm sure you could guess who that was," Namjoon says, getting back onto his knees and spreading your legs around his hips. His cock seems to have softened some, and he fists it slowly in one hand.

"Taehyung?" you respond teasingly, watching as Namjoon's eyebrows raise in amusement, then he leans with one hand anchored by your side, towering over you.

"Would you like that?" He asks, voice dark and deep. "Would you like for the doctor to join us?"

With a chuckle, you consider your words, raising your eyebrows much in the same way he had. You are not sure Taehyung's so-called fascination with human bodies—as Felix so colorfully put it—would translate to joining you in bed.

"I think I'm good," you finally say, failing to think of something quippy in response, making Namjoon's cheeks crease with dimples as he chuckles to himself.

"Do you have the energy to keep going?" Namjoon asks, leaning closer and caging your head in with both hands. His breath is warm against your face, and you do your best to lift your head and strain for a kiss until he gets the hint and lowers even more.

With a low groan, you suck his lip into your mouth, then release it and say, "You didn't cum yet."

Namjoon shrugs, but you can tell by the curl of his lips that he is pleased with your consideration.

"I don't mind," he responds, and you shake your head.

"I want you to."

All Namjoon has to do is roll his hips forward and his cock slides into your wet heat, making you gasp and lift your own hips upward, searching for more. He goes slow, pushing forward until his pelvis is pressed into you then dragging himself out, making your eyes roll back as you feel every inch of him along your walls.

"So big," you mutter almost mindlessly as he thrusts slowly forward, making you dizzy.

"You take me so well," Namjoon groans against your lips, and you drop your mouth open to whimper through his languid movements, pleased when he dances his tongue over yours and fills your mouth with his own sweet sounds.

From outside the door, you hear a raspy, "Knock, knock," accompanied by actual knocking, and you smile, feeling warmth bloom in your chest knowing that Yoongi has arrived. You assume that he was pleased with what you and Namjoon were up to based on Namjoon's expression while they were speaking on the phone, and you no longer feel trepidation about him finding you. In fact, with the door to your bedroom slowly opening, you become excited knowing that Yoongi is walking in on the sight of you and Namjoon together.

Namjoon's mouth is still connected to yours, and his hips do not hesitate as Yoongi enters the room. A low, raspy groan of approval fills the space, and you sink further into bliss, feeling warmth cover you from the knowledge of being watched. And although you cannot see him, you can hear Yoongi getting undressed as fabric hits the floor, followed by the jangling of a belt buckle.

"Is it my birthday?" Yoongi asks, voice closer than you expect, causing goosebumps to bloom over your skin.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, and you whine indignantly, opening your eyes to find him sitting up to connect his lips with Yoongi's waiting mouth. Yoongi stands shirtless, bent over the edge of the bed, anchored on one palm, and his chest is already flushed a pretty, rosy shade, with a red welt the size of a bullet smack dab in the center, surrounded by streaks of healed scars. His slacks hang open, and he fists himself over his black briefs, getting himself hard as Namjoon continues to slowly fuck you.

"Tell us what we can do for you," Namjoon mutters, rolling his hips at an angle that makes you shudder and whine, feeling a new burst of arousal alongside the familiar.

"Just want to watch you two," Yoongi groans, hand tightening over his bulge.

Namjoon kisses down Yoongi's jaw and neck, then backs away and sits up tall between your spread legs, all the while Yoongi turns to look at you, gaze soft and kind as he smiles and bites his bottom lip. You reach out for Yoongi, also eager for a kiss, but Namjoon pulls his hips back and slams them forward, causing your body to seize with pleasure before your arms and head fall back against the mattress.

"Fuck!" you cry, as Namjoon pulls back and ruts forward once more, hard and fast enough to make your head spin.

"Just look at you," Yoongi groans, and you open your eyes to find his gaze has darkened. "So perfect."

Namjoon grips onto the backs of your thighs firmly with both hands, bowing his back as he fucks you hard and fast, and you clench the comforter as bliss crashes rapidly through you. Sweat beads and drips down Namjoon's torso, and you follow the movement as one particular droplet rolls to his tummy, disappearing against his skin. His abdomen tenses and relaxes as he ruts into you, and you attempt to watch the mesmerizing undulation, but you feel another high rapidly begin to build, and you squeeze your eyes tight momentarily as you reach one hand between your legs to play lazily with your clit.

At the first touch of your fingertips, you tense up from the burst of arousal, and Namjoon moans while gazing down at you, eyes fixed and hungry. You can tell from the lift of his brow that he wants you to squeeze him again, and you do so, rhythmically tightening your muscles around him until his mouth falls open and he breathes out a deep moan.

"Not gonna last if you keep doing that, baby."

With a pleased hum, you respond, "Good. Want you to cum," giving Namjoon a mock-innocent smile and flutter of your lashes when he glares at you frustratedly.

Namjoon picks up his pace, making it impossible for you to tease him further—if your walls do tighten around him, it is involuntary, caused by the accelerated pace at which you climb closer to orgasm.

"Fuck, Namjoon! S-so good!" you sob, circling your fingers over yourself faster. Desperate to cum again, you begin to beg, chanting, "Please, please, please," as your eyes roll back and your body arches.

Orgasm quakes and erupts through you, and you lay frozen in pleasure as only rasps and breathy whimpers leave your lips. Namjoon's hips begin to stutter, and he pulls out, taking you by surprise as his cock is replaced by his fingers. He roughly presses them up into your sweet spot, making another orgasm build and explode so fast, you scream, feeling the overwhelming gush of pleasure overtake you.

Your release sprays against your thighs, and Namjoon replaces his fingers with his cock, fucking you at a punishing pace for an intense but short-lived burst before his hips still, and he cums inside you. You babble somewhat incoherently, sobbing as Namjoon's hips tremble, and he sits back, pulling out.

Sweat covers you, turning your red-hot skin cold. Before you have a chance to catch your breath or get your bearings, two large hands grab you by the hips and tug at you, turning you forcefully until your feet fall off the side of the bed, and you find Yoongi yanking your hips to the edge while he sinks onto his knees and buries his face between your legs.

Your cunt is sensitive, and as Yoongi laps his tongue over you, from your hole to your clit and back down, you tremble and sob, overstimulated but already enraptured by the sensation. Yoongi's tongue enters you, and he slurps and hums, eyes closed as he devours you.

"Holy shit," you whimper as your head falls back, and you lay pliant for Yoongi to taste as he pleases. The thought of him eating Namjoon's cum out of you sends a fluttering of arousal to your core, and you sink further into bliss, only coming back to earth after Yoongi manages to quickly pull a small, steady orgasm from you.

By the time you open your eyes and meet his glistening smile, you feel as though your soul is barely tethered to your body, attempting to float up into the heavens.

"No more," you whine, feeling spent beyond belief. "I can't take it. Sakura."

Yoongi's hands slowly rub up and down your thighs, and he chuckles, voice soft and light as air. He raises a brow and asks, "Namjoon fucked you that good, hmm?"

Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you nibble on your bottom lip as you nod, then tip your head to the side to find a sweaty, beautiful Namjoon sitting against your headboard, grinning.

"I still have enough energy to take care of you," Namjoon offers, eyes drifting to Yoongi.

You turn and watch Yoongi shake his head and say, "That won't be necessary," cheeks turning a faint, pretty red.

"Nonsense," Namjoon responds, making his way to Yoongi, crawling on his hands and knees. "It's been too long since you've coated my tongue in your cum, baby. Be good for me and fuck my throat? Pretty please?"

Yoongi sits back on his heels and chuckles, softly shaking his head before glancing up at Namjoon with a fire in his gaze.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he drawls as he stands and rubs his palm over his bulge. "Who am I to say no to you, daddy?"

You are certain you are never going to get used to hearing Yoongi calling Namjoon daddy. And when Yoongi drops his slacks and briefs to the floor, taking Namjoon's face in his hands, sliding his cock back into his throat, and holding it until Namjoon turns bright red and gags, you are certain you will never get used to sights like this, either.

The instruction was to wear something comfortable for a long trip, so you opt for the black leggings you had on earlier and a simple burgundy knit sweater. There is a knock at your door, and you look up from the small black suitcase sprawled open on your bed, into which you have been placing loungewear and boxes of your favorite jewelry.

Earlier, Yoongi insisted he would join you to select gowns and jackets for you to wear once he got dressed, so you have been killing time while waiting. As much as you wanted to join him and Namjoon for a shower, your hair was barely dry from the first one, so you opted to just get dressed and wait for them. You will likely want to shower at the end of this so-called long trip, anyway, so doing so again feels like an irresponsible use of water.

After another knock, you say, "Come in, Namjoon," knowing it is certainly not Yoongi; he always just walks right in.

Namjoon's deep chuckle gives him away, and he pushes the door open and steps inside, making you gasp. The sight of him standing in a simple white cotton short sleeve tucked into black slacks should not have the effect it does, but you still watch in awe as every curve of muscle is perfectly accentuated by his clothing. He has a jacket slung over one arm that matches the slacks, and you imagine that once he puts it on, he will look quite dapper.

"I feel underdressed," you complain, glancing down at your pedestrian cozy clothing.

Namjoon shakes his head.

"We need to make a pitstop and meet with someone before we head to our destination, and it will be for the best that you are underdressed and unrecognizable."

Although Namjoon delivers this news calmly, there is something about it that makes you uncomfortable. Where will the three of you be headed, and why should you be unrecognizable? Is it mafia related? The thought of being caught in another gunfight kicks bile up into your throat, and you attempt to swallow down the feeling and shake it off.

Namjoon must notice your shift in mood. He quickly rounds the bed and approaches, placing his hands on your upper arms and gently holding you while bending to look into your eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart, where we're going is safe, okay? Don't worry."

"Safe," you respond, nodding your head slowly. Somehow, you struggle to believe it.

"Yoongi just has to meet with some old friends in Hong Kong. Nobody there should know who we are aside from his friends, and I only meant that you should be unrecognizable in some slim, off-chance that anyone does recognize him."

Namjoon's words are not fully making sense. It is clear that he wants to comfort you, but he also seems to be talking in circles, leading you to think that even he is unsure of what the truth fully is. If someone recognizes him, and you are seen with him, then you will also become a target. The two of you have been seen in public, with a very publicized engagement; surely his enemies must know what you look like now, too…right?

You decide to stop overthinking it until Yoongi joins you; it would be better to ask him about it. Despite how poor of a read Yoongi had on the last situation in which you were told things would be fine, this seems more like something he has planned rather than a surprise visit from unwanted guests, so you hope, at the very least, that he knows what he is doing.

You nod once more, attempting to take in Namjoon's words, and he wraps you in a hug, pressing your face into his chest. His scent engulfs you, handsome musk dancing prettily with floral notes, and you sink further into him, allowing it to calm you as you take deep, heavy breaths. With another knock, Yoongi enters the room, and you let Namjoon break from the hug and pull away before you turn to Yoongi and, once again, suck air deep into your lungs.

Yoongi stands in a short sleeve button-up shirt with a white and red pattern that resembles palm fronds, which is left open and untucked. A white tank top is tucked into loose-fitting dark denim jeans with holes in the knees, accessorized with a black belt, and his hair is wet and hangs in waves, perfectly framing his face, driving you absolutely wild. He looks like a crime boss from an old 80s film, and it should not be so attractive, but it is.

With a deep, playful chuckle, Namjoon approaches Yoongi, who rounds your bed, and you follow, shoving Namjoon gently out of the way to approach and run your hands over Yoongi's chest, filled with the sudden urge to feel him. Yoongi seems pleased with the attention, quirking an eyebrow at Namjoon as if to tease him while wrapping his arms around your waist. Up close, there are little white stars on his shirt, in between the leaf patterns on top of a black background, and you dance your fingertips over them, surprised to see him wearing such a design.

"Where did you find a shirt like this?" you tease, and Yoongi directs his quirked eyebrow to you as he chuckles.

"This shirt is Gucci, darling."

As if having a brand name attached to the garment makes it any less absurd. Still, the part of you that appreciates fashion feels a bit excited by the news.

"We're going to Hong Kong, hyung, not Miami," Namjoon chides, coming into view on your left and stealing Yoongi's smile for himself. "You look like Tony Montana."

"Well, I feel like Tony Montana," Yoongi responds with a playful snarl. "So, I suppose it's appropriate, is it not?"

"Speaking of," you say, hesitant to ruin the mood, but already feeling your anxiety begin to rise. "What are we doing in Hong Kong?"

Yoongi turns his attention back to you and rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back. You wonder if he can tell that you are stressed or if the urge to comfort you is becoming innate.

"I have to meet with some old friends," Yoongi unhelpfully supplies.

As you watch him gaze at you, eyes slowly traveling over your features, you can tell that there is more he wants to say, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts. His hand continues its gentle path, easing you into whatever he is planning to say next while his other hand raises to gently take you by the chin.

"There are some aspects of my operations that I would like to…offload, let's say…onto someone else."

After another pause, you pull your lips into a straight line and nod.

"Well, that could not have been any more vague if you tried," you tease, though your voice is flat and gives no hint of playfulness; none of your anxiety is quelled.

"Once the deal is finalized, I will answer any and all of your questions," Yoongi adds as he gently tugs you close for a soft kiss, and you crack a smile against his lips.

Whatever it is, it must be a big deal for Yoongi to want to wait to discuss, and you suppose that it is better this way, in the long run. Although you would like to be in on his plans, as well, you realize that you may not quite be there, yet. Perhaps it is time to finally have a conversation about the state of your relationship.

"So, Hong Kong, and then what?" you ask.

Yoongi's eyes brighten, and his lips pull into a wide, gummy smile, setting your heart a little more at ease.

"It's a surprise, darling," Yoongi responds, standing taller and placing a kiss against your temple. "Let's pick out some clothing for the trip."

With a nod, you smile and allow Yoongi to pull you into your closet, straight back to the formal and semi-formal dresses, while Namjoon begins to rummage around, choosing jewelry and shoes. Wherever you are going, it must be expensive, and you cannot wait.

Although you are not surprised to discover that Yoongi owns a private jet, you are still in awe as you enter the airplane cabin and look around. You have been in a couple commercial planes before, but none of them are sleek marvels of modern design, with black leather, gold, and mahogany interiors—following the theme of everything else Yoongi owns.

There are large, comfortable chairs—two rows of four with an aisle between pairs—and a couch against one side of the aisle facing a flat screen television on the other. Through an entrance past the seats, toward the back of the plane, there even appears to be a bed.

You take a step into the space, unsure what to do with yourself, and Yoongi places a hand on the small of your back and guides you forward enough to let Namjoon into the cabin. Staff members have taken your luggage, so you are empty-handed, and your arms hang down at your sides as you fidget along the edges of your long sleeves with your fingertips.

"The first flight is about four hours," Yoongi informs as you make your way toward the couch. "Would you like to sit and watch through the window, watch a movie, lay down…"

As he trails off, you look around and decide that it would be nice to distract yourself during the first flight, so you mutter, "Watch a movie," while taking a seat on the couch and scooting into one corner, leaving room for the others to join you.

"Do you have Scarface?" Namjoon asks with a shit-eating grin.

Yoongi gives you an incredulous smile before sitting beside you and slinging his arm over your shoulder as he grumbles, "I have every movie you could possibly want, Joonie. Put on fucking Scarface if it makes you happy."

"Doesn't he die at the end?" you ask with a frown.

"He does," Yoongi responds, pulling you close. "Are you hoping for something with a happier ending?"

Although you are merely discussing a movie, you find yourself picturing Yoongi as the ill-fated Tony Montana, feeling a swell of negative emotion as you attempt to keep your voice from trembling while muttering, "A h-happy ending once in a while would be nice."

Because sure, Yoongi may feel like the world is his while dressed like a Hollywood mob boss, and it is fun for Namjoon to tease him. But you know how those movies go. None of them end on a happy note, and in many of them, the boss is murdered, or they become so hardened by the lifestyle that they wind up dead inside. And the idea of either of those realities befalling Yoongi at such a young age makes you feel awful.

"We can watch one of my comfort films if you'd like," Namjoon offers, taking his place beside Yoongi and leaning over his lap to look at you with a soft smile.

You return Namjoon's smile and nod, eager to find out what a man like him watches for comfort. You wonder if it is some silly action flick where a himbo with a heart of gold wins over the girl in the end, surprised when he grabs the remote, turns on the television, and searches for Howl's Moving Castle.

"Don't you want to be in the middle?" Yoongi asks.

Without waiting for a response, Yoongi begins to stand, and Namjoon scoots over, giving you all the room you need to slide beside Namjoon and settle into his side as Yoongi sits and lifts your legs to rest over his thighs. You barely make it through the opening scene as sleep takes you, blinking heavily as Howl whisks Sophie off her feet to walk above the rooftops before you fall fast asleep.

As soon as you arrive to Hong Kong, you exit the plane and head straight to an older model red car that is long and boxy, leaving behind your luggage with the promise to return soon. Two men sit in the driver and passenger seats of the vehicle, and you and Yoongi clamber into the backseat on the passenger side, while Namjoon rounds the hood and gets in on the other side. The back seat is roomy, but you still feel trapped between broad shoulders as you fasten your seatbelt and settle back against the tan leather.

A man with a green buzzcut sits in the driver's seat, and beside him is a man with short, dark hair. Both men have cigarettes hanging from their lips, and the passenger rotates his torso to look back and give a lazy smile while the driver glances into the mirror and grins. There seems to be a tension in the air that melts the moment Yoongi gets settled.

"Min fucking Yoongi," the driver shouts, rotating to look back and glance at you and Namjoon, "Kim mother fucking Namjoon. What have you boys gotten into? And where are you taking this pretty thing?"

"Uiseok, Wonjin," Yoongi responds excitedly, leaning forward and jostling you into Namjoon as he reaches over your lap to low-five and fist-bump the two men. "Good to see you guys. Thanks for having us."

From your left, Namjoon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his side, and Yoongi introduces you, making your cheeks warm as you lift a hand to greet the two of them. And then you are off, driving through neon-lit streets in the middle of the night. Some dreamy track plays on the radio, and both Uiseok and Wonjin bop their heads to the beat, muttering along.

You glance through the windows, alternating between staring out the front and bending to look through the left, past Namjoon, and through the right, past Yoongi. The streets are bustling with a calm chaos of food stands and pedestrians while cars zip by and bicycles weave through the traffic, causing your heart to flutter excitedly. And then the scenery shifts and the excitement fades as you enter an area with far less traffic, swerving through housing projects with tall, dense apartment buildings.

When the car finally pulls up to a curb, you are surprised to find yourselves outside a diner on what looks like a deserted street. Yoongi gets out first, holding his hand out to you, so you unbuckle your seatbelt, feeling a surge of trepidation as the other three men stay in the car. You slide out and get onto your feet, then notice a woman inside the diner who stands from a booth directly on the other side of the tall glass window from where the two of you are, making her way to the nearby door to come outside.

"Darling, this is Sohee," Yoongi says as he gestures to the woman. She wears a dark mauve shirt untucked over brown pants and has long, somewhat wavy dark brown hair with soft, almost innocent features that curl bright and pretty when she smiles. "The boys and I are going to head to that building there—" Yoongi nods to a corner over your shoulder, to the left, and you turn to see what looks like a brick apartment building on the corner, "—to discuss a deal. We will meet you back here when we are done. Shouldn't take long."

Although you are not sure you feel too great about being dumped off with a stranger, you have no desire to argue. You have seen enough excitement lately, so if waiting at a diner in the middle of the night with this new woman is what Yoongi wants you to do, then you are content in doing so.

"Right this way," Sohee sing-songs in a voice that is surprisingly soft, taking your hand and tugging you toward the entrance to the diner.

You glance back and catch a fond smile pulling at Yoongi's lips before he gets back into the car, which drives across the street and rounds the corner. And although you know it is irrational to feel nervous about being left behind as you watch the white and red car disappear, you can't help it.

"Hungry?" Sohee asks, pouting as you take your seat across from her. The booths are hard off-yellow lacquered wood with a white rectangular table in the center, lining the window and teal tile walls, and the space is more dimly lit than you would expect from a restaurant. The white penny tile floor is chipped in places, revealing concrete, and you do not see a single menu anywhere.

You have no idea if you are hungry, but you glance around the space, noting that you are the only two people here and that nobody appears to be out in the streets. Even from where you assume a kitchen may be, past a steel door behind Sohee, you hear nothing. It feels eerie and ominous, weighing over you heavily.

"Not really," you respond sheepishly, pulling your shoulders high around your ears.

"Nervous?"

You nod and glance around once more before making eye contact. Sohee smiles, and it is sweet enough to make you want to relax, but there is something playful in her eyes, making you think that she is in on a joke that you do not fully understand.

"They won't be long," she assures you, sitting back against the booth and crossing her arms over her chest.

You hum and nod, then stare out the window at the empty street. There is no use watching for the men to return; they could take anywhere from five minutes to an hour—god forbid longer. But it is hard not to be distracted by the empty corner around which they disappeared. At least all the men seem to be on friendly terms, assuaging your fear, if only a little.

"How'd you get roped up with these guys?" Sohee asks, and you turn back to her, mouth agape.

It occurs to you that you have never told the story before. Can you tell the story? Does this group know exactly what Yoongi does? They have to…right?

"I, uh…" you trail off, blinking heavily, unsure what to say. And then the absurdity of the situation hits you, and you start to laugh. It starts small—a chuckle working its way through your throat. But then you find yourself full-on laughing—closing your eyes and shaking your head as you sink back further into the booth as you attempt to catch your breath.

Sohee lifts her brows, eager to hear what you have to say, and you swallow a lump and chuckle again, shaking your head some more. You suppose you could try to explain it without being explicit with the details.

"We met through a, uh…a mutual…" you trail off thinking about your ex-boyfriend, the spineless schmuck who sold you out for drug money. Good riddance, honestly. "A-and I just started going around him and the guys more, and…"

You can tell by the small, knowing smile that Sohee does not believe your story. Or, rather, that she knows it is bullshit, and that you are purposefully holding back all the actual details. She is polite enough not to say anything, at least. You laugh to yourself once more, giving up on continuing what you were saying.

It feels…odd…to be sitting in a public place with a stranger, having a plain, normal, everyday conversation. You had not realized how rare moments like these have been until it sinks in and settles over you like a blanket that is cool to the touch, not yet having had a chance to absorb your body heat.

When your eyes move to the street once more, you see two people coming around the corner who are unfamiliar, but who are clearly walking in your direction and appear to be dressed the same way Sohee is, looking at you through the tall window. Fear spikes through you, setting every nerve on edge, and you tense up and turn to Sohee, feeling yourself tremble as you ask with wide eyes and shaking lips, "D-do you know th-those two?"

Sohee turns to glance over her shoulder and nods her chin at the men, winning her a nod in return. Then you see Namjoon, Yoongi, and the two men whose names you have already forgotten walk around the corner, making you relax. Yoongi has a smirk that you can identify even from this distance.

And then, to your surprise, Taehyung rounds the corner, walking with a long black trench coat over a three-piece suit and tie with the lapels of the jacket pulled up over his neck, followed by Jeongguk, who is dressed head to toe in black leather and denim. What on earth are they doing here?

All eight of them approach the restaurant, and one of the people who you had not met, a shorter person with shoulder-length dark, wavy hair and bangs hanging into their eyes, pops their head into the diner and smiles as they say, "Shall we go celebrate?"

When you look between them and Sohee, wondering what the person means by go celebrate, she laughs while gesturing around with her arm out.

"There is no food or drink to be had here. This place is a front."

"Oh," you respond, feeling silly because of course it is a front; there is nothing on the windows or door to indicate that this place serves food at all.

Everyone enters the diner and files through the tall steel door behind Sohee, and you stand to make your way to the group in time for the terror twins to enter the building. Yoongi and Namjoon give you a smile before following the others, and Jeongguk falls into step behind you as Taehyung drapes his arm over your shoulder in a surprising show of friendliness, leading the two of you into a kitchen.

On the far wall there is a stove, several metal countertops, and a tall steel fridge. Dishes are stacked on shelves, and there is a small pantry shelf with boxes that you imagine are either empty or full of expired food products, such as oils, sugars, and so on.

The man with the green buzzcut walks to a tall, steel walk-in cooler door, pulls out a set of keys, and unlocks it. Then he pulls it open and enters through a curtain of thick vinyl strips, and everyone follows one after the other. You imagine that the giant cooler you are entering is not in operation, but you hug your arms around yourself a little tighter, grateful for the warmth of Taehyung at your side.

"How was the flight here?" Taehyung asks, voice deep and soft, giving you a chill as he reaches out and parts the vinyl for you to walk through.

The room you enter looks like a walk-in cooler, for all intents and purposes, with metal racks along the left and right walls. But the cooling mechanism is shut off, leaving the dark room stiflingly humid, and straight ahead, there is a doorway, through which the group has already begun to walk.

"It was good," you respond, "Yoongi's plane is nice."

Taehyung hums and gives you a squeeze before letting his arm fall from your shoulder, hand running down your back before his touch disappears entirely. "You should fly in mine sometime," he says before falling back a step and letting you continue through a much smaller doorway ahead.

The narrow door leads into a short, narrow hallway, which opens into a large room that looks like something out of a movie. The carpeting is maroon and gold, much like what you might see in the hallway of a five-star hotel, and all the furnishings are red leather, dark wood, and gold. A garish crystal chandelier hangs over the room, and four large red couches surround a massive glass table in the center of the space.

Gold and jade green sconces dot the walls, along with an eclectic array of paintings and tapestries hanging here and there, and spread throughout the space is a collection of furniture pieces, vases, statues, and other tchotchkes from various cultures, some seeming Korean and others less recognizable. You get the sense that this group of people is rather chaotic, and the fact that they seem to mesh well together while staying in a place with this level of organized anarchy just makes sense.

Everyone kicks out of their shoes and boots and makes their way to the sofas while the two men you met earlier walk over to what looks like a bar on the far left wall. You take your place on the furthest couch from the door, with Yoongi and Namjoon to your left, and Jeongguk and Taehyung to your right. Sohee and the two you have not met sit on the couch to the left, and the two men you met earlier return, hugging bottles of champagne in each arm and carrying stacks of highball glasses.

"I forgot the guys' names," you mutter, leaning toward Yoongi, who wraps an arm around your lower back and rubs his palm soothingly up your side.

"Uiseok and Wonjin," Yoongi responds softly, nodding to the men who approach, jogging your memory.

Uiseok is slim and muscular, with pretty, sleepy features, smiling lazily through squinted eyes, appearing to be a bit stoned, and Wonjin has soft but defined features, with full lips that hang in a bit of a frown, and expressive eyes that also appear bloodshot and squinted. Both men wear the same dark mauve shirt and brown pants as the others, giving you a bit of a cult vibe, and you make a mental note to ask Yoongi about it later.

Yoongi lifts his hand and points his palm toward the two on the left who you had not yet been introduced to as he says, "And this is Chanhee and Seungmin."

You follow the movement of Yoongi's hand as he points out the other two, who sit on either side of Sohee, and they wave as you tell them your name. The one with long hair hanging over their eyes is Seungmin, and Chanhee has his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, wearing wire-framed glasses over slightly elongated features. They both have light-colored button-ups tucked into dark slacks.

As Uiseok and Wonjin pop open bottles of champagne, Yoongi leans forward to take glasses from the stacks, and sets them out around the table, in front of everyone. All but Jeongguk scoot forward in preparation for a toast, and you glance over your shoulder, checking to see whether he is paying attention.

Jeongguk's expression is flat and his eyes are a bit glazed over as he stares ahead for several seconds before noticing you and meeting your gaze. He knits his brow and tilts his head slightly, and you interpret it as him asking what you want, so you lean back and shove your elbow into his leather-clad side until he grumbles softly and pushes you away.

"What?" he mutters, and you lean back more to quietly ask, "What's the matter?"

With a shrug, Jeongguk mumbles, "Nothing," but his expression says otherwise, and you study him a few more seconds until he nods his chin to the glasses of champagne being poured. You concede to allowing Jeongguk to wallow in whatever is on his mind for now, resolved to press him for information in private later.

"To the end of an era," Uiseok announces, taking you by surprise, and you turn to Yoongi, half expecting him to be displeased by what Uiseok says, but there is a wide smile on his face, pink gums on display as he reaches for a glass and holds it up.

"Welcome to the family," Yoongi announces as he stands and holds his highball of champagne to the center, over the table.

Everyone but Jeongguk follows suit immediately, and you reach for a glass and stand, holding it out while Yoongi leans back and instructs Jeongguk to get onto his feet and join the rest of you. Jeongguk clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then lets out a sigh as he grabs the last glass, standing in such a rush that he bumps into you.

"S-sorry," he grumbles as a hand brushes over your lower back and then disappears, leaving a chill in its wake.

"It's fine," you respond, turning your head toward Jeongguk but keeping your eyes forward. Clearly, something is bothering him, and you are becoming increasingly eager to know what it is.

"We are very happy to join the team, and honored that you trust us with the operations," Wonjin adds. "We believe that we will make the Korean empire even stronger, and look forward to seeing more of you guys."

You mutter cheers along with the others, tap your glass against as many as you can realistically reach, and then you drink back the tangy-sweet liquid, letting the bubbles settle on your tongue. Everyone erupts into excited chatter, save for Jeongguk, who sits back down on the couch with a huff. You sit beside him, not really feeling social and already disinterested in the boom of conversation. Despite Yoongi welcoming them to the family, you still feel very kept in the dark about everything that is happening, and listening in on overlapping voices is only making you feel tired.

Jeongguk pulls a metal vial from the inner breast pocket of his jacket and hands it to you, so you wedge your glass between your knees and unscrew the top, then sniff back two small piles of cocaine, one into each nostril. When you hand it back to Jeongguk, his gaze is on you, soft and contemplative. You cock your head and ask, "What?" but he just shakes his head, sits forward, and reaches a thumb to gently brush just below your nose before taking his drugs back and inhaling two small piles of his own.

Feeling self-conscious about Jeongguk's gesture, you lift a hand to rub under your nose while your eyes drift down to your lap, catching a small chuckle that Jeongguk lets out, pulling your attention back to him. He gently shakes his head, then leans forward and mutters, "I wanna get out of here."

You also want to get out of here, and you nod your head, then glance around, unsure where you might go. Luckily, Jeongguk stands and asks, "Is there somewhere I can go to get some fresh air?" leading Uiseok to point to a door at the far end of the room.

Jeongguk leads the way, making a pitstop to grab his boots, and you stand and tilt into Yoongi saying, "I'm going to join him, okay?"

"Of course," Yoongi responds with a smile, then he leans toward the table, picks up a half-empty bottle of champagne, and hands it to you. "Take this."

Yoongi's hair is still wavy, just like it was when it was wet, but with a little more volume now that it has dried. You want to run your fingers through it and give it a little tug but resist the urge and instead take the champagne, swerving back for your shoes and following Jeongguk through a red doorway and out into another narrow hallway. This one is at least carpeted and leads to other rooms, and on the far end, there is a metal door that goes out to a street-level brick balcony.

The street is quiet when you and Jeongguk step out, and you glance around, taking in tall brick buildings that seem to be more or less abandoned. It certainly is the perfect spot for whatever this group of people does to operate while hiding in plain sight, you suppose.

"Brought you this," you say, handing Jeongguk the champagne. He appears to have left his glass inside and drinks straight from the bottle before handing it back to you.

You happened to bring your drink with you, so you chug back the rest of your glass and set it into a potted waist-height tree, nestling it into the dirt for safekeeping before taking a swig from the bottle and turning to Jeongguk. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and uses his lips to yank one out, then fishes out a zippo lighter from the same pocket and flicks it to life. Jeongguk frowns slightly as he lights the cigarette, taking a deep breath and holding it in as his head tilts back and his eyes close.

"Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you?" you ask softly, testing the waters.

Jeongguk lets out a huff of smoke and shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on the street rather than looking at you.

"Not really."

"Alright," you concede, not feeling particularly eager to push him. "Well, do you want to talk about anything? Or do you like to just sit and wallow in silence?"

This makes Jeongguk scoff, and he finally turns his gaze to you, reaching for the champagne, which you hand over after a little resistance.

"And what would we talk about?" he asks with a sharp smirk.

You had not considered it before making the recommendation, and truth be told, you have no idea what the two of you would talk about. Does Jeongguk watch movies or listen to music? Does he have hobbies outside of his role within the family? What does he do in his spare time?

"Uh…" you try to think of something small to ease into getting to know one another and ask, "I don't know. Wh-what did you guys do on the flight here?"

Without breaking eye contact, Jeongguk says, "I snorted cocaine off Taehyung's dick and then he held me against the wall and fucked me."

Feeling somewhat stunned, you blink a few times and mutter, "Wh-what happens if the plane hits turbulence?"

Jeongguk cracks a smile and takes a step closer, somewhat crowding your space and making your heart pound heavily.

"While I'm snorting coke off his dick or while he's fucking me against the wall?"

"Ah-either way? I suppose?"

With a slight cock of his head, he says, "I guess in either instance, we end up making a mess."

"A mess?" you ask somewhat mindlessly, feeling your thought processes slow to a halt the closer Jeongguk gets.

With an affirmative hum, Jeongguk advances, looming close while taking a drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke exit from the side of his mouth, as if being careful not to blow it in your face. His proximity makes your palms prickle, and you grip onto the champagne bottle, hugging it to your chest despite how dry your mouth is. A sweet, lightly floral scent blends with the smoke, feeling almost enticing in the way it surrounds you.

"You're not shying away from me," he teases, and you glance back to find yourself cornered by a potted plant and brick on all sides.

So you ask, "Where would I go?" in as much of a playful tone as you can muster, swallowing a lump when Jeongguk just shrugs and continues to advance, forcing you to take two steps backward until your heels hit the wall. Although your heart pounds, the high from the cocaine also calms you enough that you lean into the cold brick and attempt not to crumble under Jeongguk's intense, undivided attention.

Jeongguk is dreadfully pretty with his wavy dark hair growing past his ears. You wonder if he can pull it back into a ponytail, and what that must look like. There is a tiny mole under his bottom lip and a faint scar on his cheek, and you wonder if anyone presses soft kisses to those spots. You wonder if he would let you press a soft kiss to those spots.

And then, in a moment of clarity, you realize what is happening, and you lift a hand, place it on Jeongguk's chest, against the black tee he wears beneath the thick leather jacket, and you give him a firm shove, causing him to back up a couple steps. Jeongguk chuckles as he stumbles, and he reaches up to hold your hand in place on his chest, taking you by surprise as the warmth of his hand engulfs yours.

You turn your head to the side so you can lift the bottle and take a long drink, then you hand it off to Jeongguk, who watches you with the same soft expression he had when you were sitting inside with everyone else.

"What?" you challenge as he takes the champagne and has a drink, sloshing the diminishing liquid contents loudly inside. "Why do you look at me like that? What is on your mind? Is something on my face?"

Jeongguk laughs and squeezes your hand, then he drops his hand to his side and shakes his head. You take back the bottle but watch him for his response before having another drink.

"You just seem much more relaxed," he finally says. "You don't look like a scared little dear anymore."

With a deep sigh, you drop your hand from Jeongguk's chest and lift one foot to anchor it against the brick wall.

"What's with all of you and comparing me to animals? Deer, wolf, lamb, dove…"

"You're right," Jeongguk responds with a mischievous smile. "Buttercup suits you more."

"Oh, fuck off," you grumble, lifting your hand to shove at Jeongguk again.

This time, he stumbles backward, clutching his chest while laughing, and you laugh along, tipping the bottle back to get the last of the champagne. Liquid nearly dribbles past your lips as you realize you underestimated how much was inside, and you pull the bottle away with barely any left, which Jeongguk swipes from you and finishes. Sheepishly, you wipe at the sides of your mouth using the back of your hand.

Jeongguk flicks the rest of his barely smoked cigarette into the street and then looks out into the dark city with a hint of a frown. You follow his line of sight and stand in silence, letting the cool but humid night air settle to your bones.

The street is scarce of life, with only overgrown plants taking over the sides of buildings, but nothing intentional or tended to with care. Whenever a small gust of wind picks up, you hear the sound of a metal sign creak and slam against a post, but otherwise, the only noise is the call of crickets. The night feels calm, and, to your surprise, being somewhere unfamiliar does not spark fear in your chest. Perhaps it is due, in part, to Jeongguk's company making you feel safe.

You are unsure how long you stand and stare out into the somewhat dilapidated urban sprawl of forgotten brick, concrete, and metal, but when Jeongguk speaks up, it takes you a bit by surprise.

"Are you happy living in the mansion?" he asks, and you turn to stare at the side of his face for a moment, equal parts stunned and endeared by his consideration.

You must take too long to respond, and he turns to you, fixing you with a curious gaze and making you feel put on the spot.

"Yeah, I guess so," you mutter, feeling the urge to fidget with the ends of your shirt sleeves. "I'm getting used to it."

"That's good," Jeongguk responds as his gaze falls, and he peers out into the street again. "I guess."

Perhaps you should speak more positively about life at the mansion. You are getting used to it and becoming much closer to Yoongi and Namjoon. Despite the somewhat harrowing events that recently took place, you have not had the desire to run for the hills. You have considered it, but you have no idea where you would go; it seems your life belongs to the mansion, now.

But the presence of another pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find Taehyung peeking his head through the doorway, glancing between you and Jeongguk. His eyes are bloodshot, and his lips are pulled into a pretty, droopy smile.

"Am I interrupting something?" he mumbles, and you shake your head while Jeongguk rolls his eyes, saying, "You wish, hyung," in a deep teasing tone that suddenly makes you feel like a third wheel.

"We're gonna head out soon," Taehyung says, standing straight and resting his head against the door frame. "How do you feel about getting a suite and leaving in the morning?"

With a shrug, Jeongguk says, "Whatever you want," and although his expression does not give him away, his voice does—sweet and caring, willing to accommodate.

"You and the doom boys are welcome to join us," Taehyung says as he turns his attention to you, waggling his eyebrows.

It is your turn to roll your eyes, and you almost question the silly nickname that you assume is meant for Yoongi and Namjoon, but Taehyung stands up straight and turns, walking back through the hallway before you have a chance to open your mouth. Jeongguk follows behind with the spent bottle of champagne in his grasp, and you grab your empty highball glass from the tree pot and follow, closing the door behind you.

When you return to the main room, Yoongi is laying back against the red leather couch with his face tipped to the ceiling, laughing so hard at something that his eyes are screwed shut, and he holds onto his stomach. On the table before him is a mess of empty champagne bottles, open switchblades, and a pile of cocaine.

The stench of marijuana and tobacco fills the air, and everyone seems to be in a fit of laughter, muttering about something you cannot begin to parse. Namjoon notices your return and stands, announcing that the five of you are going to head out, and begins to hug everyone goodbye as the conversations fade and stop.

It takes Yoongi a moment to get up, and he is still doubled over when he stands, sniffling while wiping at his bloodshot eyes. When he sees you and his smile widens, you feel your heart pound rapidly in your chest. Yoongi is so beautiful, and in moments like this—when he can unabashedly be Min Yoongi, the ordinary person, and not some figurehead whose life is in danger—you think you could actually, fully, unequivocally love him.

"Ready, darling?" Yoongi asks, stumbling slightly as he approaches and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Ready when you are," you respond, keeping your arms to your sides because, although you are comfortable with the family men, showing affection with the audience of the others makes you uncomfortable. Yoongi does not seem to mind, holding just a moment longer before bending to slide into his boots.

You wave and bow goodbye to your hosts as the five of you exit the main room and walk through the narrow hallway, into the cooler. Taehyung is at the lead, and he opens the tall steel cooler door, holding it for everyone to walk through, then takes the rear while Jeongguk leads the group through the kitchen, into the diner.

"We should probably sober up for the other flight," Namjoon suggests, and Yoongi hums in response from behind you while gently placing a hand on your hip.

"We're getting a suite," Taehyung responds as the five of you walk out onto the street. "You're welcome to crash there until you are ready to go."

Despite feeling comfortable on the balcony earlier, walking out onto the mostly empty and unfamiliar street makes you tense up, and you look around as you go across to the other side, toward the corner everyone came around earlier, checking for vehicles and for people standing in windows. There is no sign of anyone around, but discomfort quakes through you as you wonder whether you are being watched or if the fear of being watched is just psyching you out to the point of paranoia.

The conversation between the men is all but lost on you until Yoongi gives your side a squeeze and asks, "Darling?"

"Hmm?" you respond, glancing to the side as he tugs you closer.

"Do you feel up to going back with them for a few hours?"

At this point, you just want to get off the street, and you are not overly concerned with where you wind up. So you say, "Sure," and give Yoongi a half smile, hoping it is enough to convince him that you are open to whatever they want to do. He does seem to be more intoxicated than you, although the champagne is beginning to catch up and make you feel a bit too light and also too heavy on your feet, swaying the world around you ever so slightly.

When you round the corner, there is a large SUV sitting next to the white and red car that Uiseok drove, and the five of you clamber in, with Yoongi and Namjoon sandwiching you in the backseat while Taehyung sits in the passenger seat, and Jeongguk takes over driving. The vehicle is just like the ones the men drive back home, and memories of the other night—collisions and gunfire—come flooding back, causing nausea to stir in your guts.

Jeongguk takes off while Taehyung thumbs around on his phone and then begins to give directions. You wonder if the place they plan to stay at is somewhere familiar to them, or if Taehyung found something spur of the moment. It only takes about fifteen minutes for you to reach your destination, and Jeongguk gets out first while Taehyung sits back in his seat and lets out a deep sigh.

"He's gonna make sure our room is available," he mutters, which only raises more questions than it answers.

Several minutes pass before Taehyung's phone dings. He groans as he tips his head forward to check the notification, then nods, says, "Let's get it," and opens his door to stumble out into the street.

You, Yoongi, and Namjoon exit, while Jeongguk returns with a hotel staff member who climbs into the front seat, presumably to drive it into a parking stall. Jeongguk removes two tall black suitcases from the trunk and places a palm on each one as he leans slightly forward and steers them through the glass front door, which slides open to the left and right as he approaches. Yoongi wraps an arm around Taehyung's upper back to guide him, and Namjoon takes your hand in his as you follow a foot or so behind.

"Remember this moment," Namjoon mutters, leaning close to your ear, "you will never see Taehyung this drunk again."

"What happened to him?" you ask, trying to imagine how much a person could possibly drink in the timeframe you were outside.

With a deep, amused laugh, Namjoon says, "Knife game. Wonjin bet that Taehyung couldn't stab a knife between his fingers as fast as he could. The loser had to chug a full bottle of champagne."

You struggle to imagine Taehyung being so reckless, and you regret not getting to see it for yourself, smiling at the thought of cocky Taehyung failing to poke the tip of a blade quickly between each of his spread fingers in front of everyone.

"So he got waisted, and he cut himself?" you ask.

"Yup! He nicked the side of his thumb!" Namjoon responds cheerfully, making you laugh.

The five of you walk through a somewhat luxurious lobby full of potted plants and decorative rugs. But all you pay attention to is your own feet and the backs of the feet in front of you as you imagine Taehyung and Wonjin playing the knife game for a captive audience. Is this what mafia men do for fun? It seems childish, but somehow, you find it a bit endearing.

As you all get into the large elevator, Jeongguk uses a keycard to access the top floor, and although you are getting used to the influence these men have, you are still a bit surprised that the room happened to be available. Taehyung did refer to it as their room; do they own it?

The elevator opens straight into the penthouse suite, which is furnished mostly white and tan, with light wood and silver accents, lit by simple, round overhead fixtures. The room itself is not too flashy, appearing somewhat lived in with a variety of plants that seem tended to, but bare of personal belongings like books or photographs. Taehyung kicks out of his untied boots and stumbles off to the right, and Jeongguk wheels the suitcases a few feet into the suite before releasing them, kicking out of his boots, and going over to the large white couch in the middle of the space.

An enormous glass wall overlooks the neighborhood below, and you glance out from across the room to see lights shine from the streets, some belonging to cars passing by and others a more permanent glow. Shoes and boots are left behind as Namjoon and Yoongi make their way to the open-concept kitchen, which is just to the left, and begin to rummage around, seemingly pleased to find the fridge is stocked with baijiu. Unsure what to do, you approach the couch and stand behind it, resting against the back with your arms folded over your chest.

Although you could keep drinking, you are unsure whether it would be in poor taste to go on when both hosts seem out of it—Taehyung having gone off to who-knows-where and Jeongguk sitting on the couch with his head tilted to the ceiling and his eyes closed. You wonder if whatever was bothering him before continues to weigh on his mind.

"Jeonggukah," Namjoon calls, earning a groan from the youngest. "Come on, sooner or later, you need to speak your mind."

"Don't want to right now," Jeongguk grumbles, sounding petulant.

"Don't be like this, Jeongguk," Yoongi teases as he brings four small baijiu bottles from the kitchen and sets them on the wooden table in front of Jeongguk. "Handing over drug operations does not mean you are getting demoted. I just need you by my side more, and I can't have you getting distracted with petty shit."

"I liked my duties," Jeongguk grumbles quietly, mostly to himself, and suddenly, it all makes sense. The responsibilities of handling the drug operations must have been passed off to Uiseok and his team, leaving Jeongguk to feel like he is being replaced.

Yoongi takes a seat to Jeongguk's right, and Namjoon sits to Yoongi's right, leaving the space to Jeongguk's left open, so you round the couch and approach slowly, first sitting on the armrest because this feels like a conversation that you are unsure you should participate in. But Yoongi reaches over Jeongguk's lap and pats the couch, grumbling for you to get comfortable, so you slide to the cushion and sit with your legs angled toward the men.

Namjoon busies himself with opening the bottles and sliding them along the table to everyone, and you glance between him and Yoongi before asking, "I thought the goal was to sober up."

"After this drink," he responds with a grin, instantly winning you over with his dimples.

You are in no rush, with nowhere to go until you are told it is time to leave, so you nod and smile, conceding to another drink. The champagne has made you tipsy, but you are far from drunk, despite never getting fed.

Deciding you are tired of Jeongguk being a somber lump, you lean and nudge him with your elbow, right into the ribs, causing him to lift his arm as if to swat you away, stopping mid-air with his hand raised and giving you a mock-threatening glare. He looks so adorable you break into laughter, nudging him more and more, tauntingly.

With a wide, incredulous stare, Jeongguk mutters, "Do you want to die?" and that sets you off, making you laugh so hard you double over practically onto his lap.

Yoongi and Namjoon join in on the laughter, clearly only serving to frustrate Jeongguk more, who firmly but playfully takes you by the biceps with both hands and shoves you away, toward the corner of the couch, muttering under his breath.

Jeongguk's smoke-filled floral scent is intoxicating, and you find yourself falling momentarily pliant with his hands on you, sinking back into the white leather. But then he releases you, and you have the sudden urge once more to push all of his buttons.

Luckily, Yoongi distracts you by handing you a bottle of baijiu, followed by Jeongguk handing you a vial of cocaine. You take a long swig from the bottle, pleased by its tangy umami blend of citrus and floral notes, then you bend and reach forward to set it on the table and begin to unscrew the vial.

Taking two tiny piles of white powder into your nose should not feel so good. Perhaps it is the way the lingering flavor of the baijiu fills your senses, or you have grown accustomed to the bitterness of the coke, but as soon as it hits your sinuses and begins to trickle down your throat, you feel alive, tingling with exhilaration from head to toe.

When Jeongguk takes the vial back, his fingers engulf yours before sliding away, and you hold your breath, scared to gasp, or worse, exhale while letting out a sound. It was not long ago that Jeongguk's very presence was an annoyance, and here he is, affecting you in a way you had not expected.

Perhaps it was better when he was determined to be mean. Then again, with the way you behaved toward him in the mansion the other day, bringing up his noona kink to tease him in front of the others, can you really blame him for wanting to taunt you—if that is what he is doing.

Your heart races so hard, you bend once more, reaching for your baijiu to take a drink. Suddenly, your throat feels so dry again. Suddenly, the chill glass of the bottle feels cold against your fingertips, causing you to shiver as you settle back and take a drink. You wonder how long you are going to be at this suite and whether or not Namjoon meant it when he said you would sober up after this bottle, or if their plans are so loose that literally anything could happen.

To make matters worse, Taehyung comes into the room, still with a bit of a wobble, but much more cognizant than he had been moments before. He appears to have quickly showered, and wears only a pair of grey sweatpants, squeezing his wet hair with a white towel as he surveys the scene before him with a lazy smile.

"Not doing anything without me, I hope?" he teases, words drawling lazily.

"Just cocaine and baijiu," Namjoon supplies in a chipper, golden retriever fashion that makes your heart flutter.

"I thought I heard giggling," Taehyung adds as he rounds the couch and sits on the arm to your left, effectively caging you in between himself and the others.

Jeongguk hums and leans into you, knocking your shoulder and causing you to nearly crash into Taehyung's hip. You feel completely thrown off your axis as you wobble, wondering if the baijiu is having a profound enough effect on you to actually make you drunk or if it is caused by Jeongguk's change in demeanor.

"Buttercup was causing trouble," Jeongguk teases, making you gasp and turn to him, affronted.

"I—wh—you!" you stammer, unable to find the words to express just how much it was Jeongguk causing the trouble while you were merely a bystander—a lie, but one you are willing to defend with your honor.

"It was both of them," Yoongi says, leaning forward to make playful eye contact and effectively finding himself at the very top of your shit list.

You fix Yoongi with your best serious gaze, muttering, "How…very…dare you," as you attempt to ignore Jeongguk's eyes burning into you the way that they do.

"The tension between them is palpable," Namjoon teases, making you gasp and flounder around syllables that never come because Yoongi adds, "You two should just kiss already," causing every hair on your body to stand up.

"Very funny," you say at the same time Jeongguk whines, "Hyungs, please," under his breath, sounding embarrassed.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, you chug back the rest of your baijiu, wiping your lips off with the back of your hand as you lean forward and place the empty down with a hollow thunk. You need to exit this suite before you wind up doing something stupid.

"Well, I finished my drink," you announce, staring at Namjoon, "so I suppose we can go, now!"

"But we still have our drinks," Yoongi pouts, holding up a bottle that is more than half full.

Taehyung's voice is deep and far too steady for how inebriated he seems as he asks, "Why are you in such a rush, buttercup?" and you turn to find him practically draped over the arm of the couch, leaning with his elbow anchored on the backrest, propping his head up.

The alcohol and cocaine combination makes you bold enough to face the elephant in the room, and you clear your throat before saying, "Probably because the four of you are menaces and for the sake of my sanity, I need to get the fuck out of here."

"Interesting," Yoongi drawls, and you turn to him with a pointed stare as you ask, "What?"

"Jeonggukie has the power to drive you insane," Yoongi responds without missing a beat, lips curling the way they always do when he is being particularly devious. "Why don't we explore this?"

You stare at Yoongi in a long silence, finally turning to Jeongguk only when the tension feels too thick to ignore. He gazes at you with that familiar soft expression, and you swallow a lump that has gathered in your throat.

"What are your thoughts?" you ask him before you can think better of it.

Jeongguk seems stunned by the question, staring unblinkingly for several seconds before blinking rapidly as if coming out of a trance. Then he licks his lips, and, like an idiot, you follow the movement. The way Jeongguk smiles tells you he noticed you looking, and suddenly, his sweet expression is replaced by a cocky one.

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head and making a show of looking down at your lips and back up. "You thinking about kissing me, or something?"

If he weren't such a brat, perhaps you would be willing to admit to the truth, but with this attitude, you scoff and roll your eyes, muttering, "You wish," under your breath.

"Find out," Jeongguk challenges, taking you by surprise.

You begin to ask, "What?" but he cuts you off, leaning forward until your lips are less than a foot apart.

"Make your move, buttercup. Find out just how badly I wish you would kiss me."

When you glance over at Yoongi and Namjoon, they both have eager smiles, watching with their lips parted in concentration. Jeongguk's eyes seem to stay on you—or if they stray, it is too fast for you to notice—and you lean forward, challenging his resolve.

"Now why would I do something like that?" you ask, noticing the way Jeongguk's brow and lips quirk. The movement is slight, but you recognize it as frustration.

Jeongguk is clearly not used to this kind of provocation, and it seems to be bothering him that you are not immediately willing to cave. This is the second time in a couple of days that you have pushed his buttons, but this time, he does not seem inclined to storm away.

Slowly, Jeongguk lifts a hand, reaching just below your chin, but stopping before making contact. The warmth from his skin feels electric—like a charge zipping through the air and connecting the two of you. You concede just enough to lean into the touch, allowing Jeongguk's fingertips to graze your cheek, causing his pupils to dilate.

With the warmth of Jeongguk's gentle contact, you feel emboldened, and you tilt your head to the side just enough to brush your lips over the heel of his hand, hearing as his breath catches in his throat.

"As much as I enjoy our banter, I am growing a little weary," you mutter, lips dragging over his palm before you return his hand to your cheek. "It's fine if you don't want to kiss me; I won't be offended. But if you really do want to kiss me, then just do it already."

Jeongguk's eyes widen, and you think for a split moment that he might back off and call it a night. But then he uses his fingertips against your cheek to guide you toward him, meeting in the middle until his lips are against yours and he is swallowing your gasp whole.

It comes as no surprise that Jeongguk instantly nips and sucks at your lip, slowly but with enough force that it has you whimpering and dropping your mouth open wide. Wasting no time, Jeongguk licks into your mouth, groaning deeply and forcing a gasp from you as tangy baijiu and stinky cigarette smoke coat your tongue in an enticing tangle.

Despite how languid his movements are, there is an eagerness behind each of them, filling your mouth with his tongue until your lips are stretched wide before teasing your bottom lip with his teeth, alternating in fluid, dizzying motions. Arousal shimmers through your bloodstream like glitter, and you lift your hands to grip onto his leather jacket to hold him close, keeping your mouth open for him to use and explore, swallowing his soft groans and whines.

Kissing Jeongguk feels cathartic somehow—as if the months of bickering and tension have been washed away, and all that is left is the two of you sitting open and raw and ready to be vulnerable with one another. Although the thought of it absolutely terrifies you, it also thrills you, and you whimper against his mouth, feeling yourself completely slip from any semblance of control you thought you might have been able to hold onto.

Now that you have had a taste of Jeongguk, will it be enough? Or will you need to satiate a greater hunger? You are not sure that you are ready for it, just yet.

With a gasp, you break the kiss, tilting your chin downward, doing your best to steady your frantic heart. You tip your head forward just long enough to press a soft kiss against the mole beneath his lip, then lean your forehead against his. Jeongguk chases after your lips before seemingly coming to his senses and backing off, but staying close by, forehead still resting gently against yours.

Suddenly, you are exhausted. The weight of everything that has culminated to get to this point feels heavy and thick, and you find yourself succumbing quickly to its whim.

"Sorry," you mutter, unable to fight the urge to apologize. "I feel really tired. I think we should stop."

Jeongguk nods his head, swallowing visibly, and you are unsure whether you detect disappointment, or if he is simply tired, as well.

"We have two rooms," Taehyung offers softly, and suddenly, you remember that there are three other men who have been watching everything.

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you release Jeongguk's jacket, dropping your hands to your lap as you nod and say, "Thanks, Tae."

Everyone seems frozen in place, waiting for someone to make the first move, so you do it, turning away from Jeongguk and scooting to the edge of the couch before standing on shaking legs and glancing around, unsure where to go.

Yoongi gets the hint and stands, nodding toward the wall directly behind you as he says, "That way," so you nod and turn, walking several steps in that direction before rethinking your decision to just run away from the situation at hand. At the very least, you should say something.

"Thanks for letting us stay," you begin, giving Taehyung a bow of your head and a smile before locking eyes with Jeongguk. "And thanks for…that…for finally doing that. We should talk about it later, but...it was nice."

You feel somewhat embarrassed by your inability to just say the words you want to say, but decide it is enough; you are tired. So you turn toward the bedroom and walk in that direction, not bothering to switch on any lights as sleep claws at every edge of you, dragging you down, down, down.

In a last-ditch effort to get comfortable, and since your suitcase is still tucked away on Yoongi's plane, you get undressed in the dark room and climb into bed wearing only your underwear. The blanket is cool to the touch, and you shiver as you scoot into the center and cover yourself completely, waiting for the others to join. It does not take long, but you are already half asleep when warm arms engulf you in the form of familiar limbs on either side. You hope that tonight, you do not have any nightmares.

Someday, what I need Someday, what I dream 우리의 청춘이 진한 술 같으니 our youth is like strong liquor 달콤함이여 sweetness 오 독기여 oh, poison 붉은 피 같은 술 내려주소서 please serve me a red-blooded drink 우리의 청춘이 진한 술 같으니 our youth is like strong liquor

마셔라 쭉쭉 술이 들어가 drink it up, alcohol comes in 파워업 다 드루와 bitch don't kill my vibe power up, come on, bitch down kill my vibe

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they kissssseddddd!!!! i know some of you are going to kill me for only making them kiss, but, listen: i like to build tension. and make you cry a little, too.

at the end of the last chapter, a lot of people asked after Jimin! he's off living his best life, so don't stress! he is not the kind of character to join the others in a gunfight, so having him there didn't seem right. we will see him again, soon!

shout out to Yoongi for the Haegeum video & photos! i was worried i would have to photoshop that scar onto a more recent photo in a few chapters, and he did all the work for me...😈😈😈

stream sos by balming tiger! thanks, bye!

tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog @angel-121 @artgukk @btsiguess-kpop @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful @codeinebelle @curryshesus @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @fringe-frank @illnevertrustmyselfagain @jalexad @kissme-ornot @leanimal90 @likeshatteredrainbowglass @m1sss1mp @mayeolorie @mgthecat @mushroom-main @mwitsmejk @openup-yourmind @pamzn @sleepilysworld @stocking221 @spookyminyunki @thelilbutifulthings @valhallawhispers 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!

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#memory lane: collateral #author revisit & notes #fic: collateral

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acenancy · 8 years ago

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I don't know if you take prompts but if yes, I'd love a ff about the first Bellarke kiss. I hope that we get it in s4. How do you think that could happen?

Even though I’m answering this 7 months late…YES, I do take prompts. Lmao I’m so goddamn sorry. I just could not think of a way to write this for the life of me.

Also, this is actually NOT how I think a S4 Bellarke kiss will go down. However, I do think it will be…happy, if you know what I mean. I have yet to see one of Clarke’s first kisses be a happy thing. So, happy is kind of what this tried to be.

Like Petrol Soaked Paper and Fireworks (She Burns)

(ao3)

Fandom: The 100Pairing: BellarkeWords: 3874

The apocalypse isn’t as bad as Bellamy thought it would be.

Sure, the rain hasn’t turned black yet and the only cancerous lesionthey’ve come across is Jaha on his soapbox, but just knowingThe End is neigh should be enough to dampen moods, at the very least.

Which it has. Plenty of Arkadians have thrown their hands in the airand called it quits; they drink themselves into stupors, start brawlsfor the smallest reasons, spend entire days crying inconsolably intothe dirt.

It’s fair to say the news is devastating to pretty much everyone.

But truthfully? Since the moment Bellamy hit the ground, everyday hasfelt like his last one. Somehow, against all odds, it never has been.So this? The end of the world? It’s not the end of the world. This isnothing new. It’s just another fucking obstacle that needs to beovercome so his people can move on and get lives already.

Bellamy means that in the nicest way possible. Really.

Some people, however, have heeded his advice prematurely. They’vechosen to avoid jumping the hurdles to salvation and skipped straightto the victory party. Or maybe it’s a pity party. Bellamy isn’t surewhat to call it when you’ve given up on survival and decided tosimply…live. Is that what losing hope is? Accepting your fate andembracing every punch life throws your way with a bloody smile onyour face?

Bellamy understands the appeal, sure. Plenty of times he’s wanted tojust end the fight, let the universe have its way with him. “Gowith the flow,” Octavia would call it. The notion remindsBellamy of a boy, on his knees, begging a vision to kill him; of agirl, under a tree, not letting him surrender.

Bellamy never considered defeat until that night. He hasn’t eversince. The fight is ingrained in him like a bullet. It wakes him upin the morning and sets him moving, working, never contemplatingotherwise.

They say as long as there’s a will, there’s a way. Sometimes itfeels a will is all Bellamy has anymore. But he firmly believes thatyou can only have a will when you have hope to fuel its fire. ForBellamy, Hope happens to be sitting right in front of him, hangingonto his hand, the warmth of her cheek pressed firm against hisknuckles.

The apocalypse isn’t great. It’s not horrifically mortifying yet,either. What’s worse right now, for Bellamy, is seeing ClarkeGriffin sagging against him, her spirit wavering along the fine linebetween anger and despair.

“Do you still have hope?” she’d asked him

A gust of breath slips from her nose between his fingers.

“We’re still breathing,” he’dsaid.

Bellamy inhales, heavy and deep, when her lips part just theslightest against his hand.

Yes. Yes, he still has hope.

“I wish they did too,” Clarke mumbles against his skin. She tiltsher head so her chin rests against the back of his hand and she cansee him. “Do you think I was wrong?”

Bellamy knows what she’s asking. Was she wrong in telling Jasper tosettle down? To stop throwing ragers in the woods, sneaking awayrations of alcohol for the oddly happy nihilistic portion of Arkadia?No, Bellamy doesn’t think she was wrong. Jasper is wasting valuableresources and he’s putting himself and others in danger. He’sbeing stupid. Bellamy isn’t opposed to seeing Jasper happy again,but he needs the kid to find another way.

On the other hand, Clarke and Bellamy have bigger fish to fry than arowdy delinquent these days.

“I think we need to pick and choose our battles,” Bellamy tellsher, “and what Jasper does in the woods is the least of our worriesright now.”

Frustration flashes in Clarke’s eyes for the briefest of momentsbefore she casts her gaze to her feet. “I know,” she says. “Iknow. I just- I want-” Unable to get the words out, Clarke dropsher hands into her lap, shaking her head at the floor.

Bellamy sits on his haunches in front of her. He slips his hand alongher cheek, fingers light at the nape of her neck. His thumb sweeps agentle path across her cheekbone. “You want to look out for ourfriends.”

Clarke’s eyes, boring into his, roll dramatically before runninghome to Bellamy’s again. “Yes,” she huffs. “Like you don’twant to?”

Bellamy snorts. It’s impossible for them not to care about people,especially the people they fell from space with in a fiery tin can.You can’t break bonds made like that. Bellamy will watch over thosekids until his dying breath, even when they’re wasting their own.

“I don’t want them to give up,” Clarke concedes, shouldersshrugging stiffly. “After everything we’ve been through, aftereverything we did to get here…I don’t want them to let it allgo.”

“Maybe, if we do this right, they won’t have to.”

Bitterly, Clarke laughs. “Will anything we do even matter if theydon’t want it? If they don’t want to be alive?”

Holding her gaze, Bellamy leans in closer to her. “I don’t thinkthat’s the issue, Clarke.” Eyes desperate, Clarke watches him,waiting for him to say what she needs to hear most. “I think theywant this – the ground, their people, good times. To live.They just don’t believe they’ll ever have it again. So they’retaking it now.” Bellamy watches Clarke’s shoulders fall as sheexpels the air that’s been winding her up. “And that’s thedifference between us and them,” Bellamy presses on, “webelieve.”

They’ve leaned into each others’ spaces, Bellamy realizes. Theblue of Clarke’s eyes is piercing, freezing him. The rosy blushrising along her cheeks dances in Bellamy’s peripheral vision. Heknows, if the moment were right, he could close the distance betweenthem. He could press his lips against hers and take the next step inthis dance they’ve been ambling through since the Drop Ship. Theycould change the game right now. From the way Clarke is looking backat him, Bellamy can tell she knows it too.

Not here, though. Not now. Maybe not ever.But Bellamy hopes.

“Hey,” Clarke says. Her voice is quiet but sure, enough to breakthe weighty silence between them, “you want to go to a party?”

Bellamy ducks his head to hide the stupid grin devouring his face. Itdoesn’t work. When he peeks back at Clarke from under his lashes,he’s relieved to see his smile mirrored on her face.

“Why? You giving up?” he teases.

There’s no chance in hell she ever would.

“No,” Clarke says. She stands strong and ready to her feet. “Justgiving in.”

–

Jasper throws his End of the World parties sporadically, deep in thewoods, skirting the line between Arkadia and Grounder territory. Youcan always find them if you track the iron stench of moonshine andthe belligerent hooting that should attract vicious predators butmostly scares them away. Raven says the parties are a good timethough she’s only been to one of them, for an hour, and left whenMiles tried pouring liquor on her brace to make the squeak go away.

“Other than that? Fun,” she’d said, then, “Clarke would havea blast.”

Bellamy wasn’t sure if Raven was being sarcastic or not.

Clarke always claims she doesn’t know how to have fun, but bothBellamy and Raven have been privy to the rare moments when she’slaid down her armor and let loose. Fun radiates from Clarke in waveswhen she allows it to; flipping cups, tossing coins, cracking jokes –it all comes natural to her. It’s jarring, perhaps, to those usedto seeing the seriousness she wears like a second skin, but onlybecause she lays back so well. Who would have thought?

So Bellamy doesn’t think it’s far fetched to say Clarke islooking to enjoy herself tonight. It’s been a rough few weeks,after all, and though she’s never completely run away from herproblems, she has been known to hide from them when she needs to.

And what better place to hide from the end of the world than in thevery middle of it, surrounded by earth and humans and life livedfully?

“Come to shut us down, Officers?” Jasper greets when Bellamy andClarke trudge into a clearing.

There’s a bonfire blazing in the center, people sitting on logs,drinking around it. On the far side of the clearing is the rover,parked between two trees, music blasting from its speakers as loud asit can play. People hover near it, grabbing drinks from the trunk,dancing to the beat of the sound.

“How’d you get my car?” Bellamy barks.

“Last I checked, the rover is property of Arkadia.” Jasper leansforward, peering at Bellamy mischievously. “Do you come here asArkadia, my king?”

“We come as friends,” Clarke declares. She announces it, likefriendship is official business and not a refreshing drink at the endof a long day.

“Ah, friends,” drawls Jasper. “I didn’t realize thetwo of you remembered how to be friends.” He lifts his cupat them, wagging a finger between Bellamy and Clarke. “Even to eachother. If you know what I mean.”

Bellamy growls. “Watch it.”

Jasper raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, we’re allfriends here!” Slowly, he backs away, smirking deviously as hegoes. “Just don’t be narcs, ‘kay?” With that, he turns hisback on them, stumbling to Monty and Harper who are wrapped aroundeach other by the fire.

Unperturbed, Clarke jerks her head to the rover. “Come on.”

The stares they receive just for being at this party don’t gounnoticed by Bellamy and Clarke. They’re aware that by now, to mostpeople, they’re viewed differently than most. They’re held apart.Bellamy supposes it makes sense. They took charge of the delinquents,and they eviscerated Mount Weather, and then they rescued theirentire people from a soul sucking A.I., and now? Now they’vetasked themselves with saving the human race. It’s not usual, no,even for your typical “hero”. But Bellamy still feels normal.Normal enough that people shouldn’t be watching and whisperingevery time he and Clarke happen to be near them. The whole thingmakes Bellamy’s skin itch. Part of him wants to take Clarke’shand and get the hell out of dodge, hide away forever. Mostly though,he wants to walk across the grass and grab a drink with his bestfriend, no worries, just like everyone else.

Stopping at the back of the rover, Clarke leans her weight againstBellamy’s side. “Relax,” she whispers. “Ignore them.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Ignore who? Everyone?”

She looks around, then back at him, lifting one lazy shoulder.“Yeah.” Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

With great effort, Bellamy trains his eyes on the barrel of moonshinebefore them, away from the crowd, and rolls the discomfort off of hisshoulders. “I’m gonna need more than one drink if you want me todo that.”

Thrusting a tin filled to the brim in Bellamy’s hands, Clarkelevels him with her eyes and says “so have more than one,” andclinks her cup against his.

And have more than one they do.

Despite having built up a tolerance to moonshine over the last year,it still only takes one drink for Bellamy and Clarke to becomepleasantly wasted. The eyes that were following them melt into spotsat the corners of Bellamy’s vision, and it’s with ease that heand Clarke step away from their secluded corner at the edge of theparty and move to sit with the delinquents. Maybe they’re all toodrunk to remember they haven’t gotten along in months, or maybeit’s simply this easy to fall back in love with old friends, butBellamy and Clarke have…fun.

Harper is goofy – something Clarke never had the chance to learn –and constantly has everyone doubled over with tears in their eyes.Jasper and Monty recount their adventures on the Ark, and Bellamy canalmost imagine he was with them if he tries to. Miller has just theright type of morbid humor to bounce off of Clarke’s and Bellamy’s,and even Bryan jumps into the conversation, enthralling everyone withthe story of how Miller was arrested while sitting on the toilet.

It’s only one more round of drinks before Jasper pulls Clarke toher feet, spinning her in a clumsy circle. Bellamy can only assumethey’re supposed to be dancing.

Half joking, he asks Monty how much Jasper has had to drink.

Proudly, Monty smiles, pointing to where Jasper is dipping a laughingClarke. “Eight cups,” proclaims Monty, grin stretching wider, “ofstraight water.” He must be amused by the look of surprise onBellamy’s face, because Monty laughs when he says “he’s notthrowing life away anymore, Bellamy. He’s grabbing it by thelapels.”

Jasper has one hand in Clarke’s and the other on her waist as hedrags them around the clearing, singing comically at the top of hislungs. Still shaking with laughter, Clarke can barely hold herself upas she falls against him, occasionally trying to sing along. Bellamywatches her, entranced. The glow of the fire highlights her in theshadows of the night, the embers of the flames flickering around herlike stars. Moon rays ignite the dark, break through the trees, andilluminate her, following her every move. She’s always beenbeautiful, but like this, letting go, smiling on Earth with theirfamily, Bellamy has never seen her more radiant. She owns the dirtaround them and the grass beneath her feet; she sprouts straight fromthe ground, same as the trees behind her; she blows with the wind andshines like Polaris and Earth spins around her as though she’s thesun. Clarke sets the world in motion. She sets everything in motion.She moves him.

Miller coughs, dragging Bellamy’s attention away from her. “Youshould too, by the way,” he suggests. Bellamy squints at him,confused. Miller elaborates. “Grab the world by the lapels.” Hiseyes dart to Clarke, then back to Bellamy, and he raises his eyebrowsto make his point clearer.

Loving Clarke has never been about making a move, though. It’s beenabout standing at her side because she stands at his, about trustingher with everything, least of all his life; it’s about reachinginto the darkness and holding out a hand, guiding each other backinto the light. It’s a love peppered with soft touches and tightembraces, with understanding looks and dry teasing. It makes them thegreatest allies and the best of friends, and sometimes, when it hasto, the worst of enemies. Always though, no matter what, lovingClarke and being loved back, is everything they need, exactly whenthey need it. Having Clarke’s body against his isn’t necessary toprove that. All he needs is her heart and his, beating together, forthe world and for each other. That’s it.

“Don’t need to,” he tells Miller. Over Jasper’s shoulder,Clarke’s eyes catch Bellamy’s. The smile she wears is gentle andwarm and only for him. “The world and I grabbed each other by thelapels a long time ago.”

–

It’s cold on their trek back to Arkadia. Bellamy’s jacket isdraped over Clarke’s shoulders despite her promise that she’llmurder him if he freezes to death. He insists his buzz is enough tokeep him warm. It doesn’t hurt that Clarke is tucked into his side,sharing her heat, too. Bellamy pulls her closer, arms wrapped aroundher shoulders. He hides his smile into his collar when she reachesfor the hand dangling over her chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you to the party,” Clarke apologizes.

“Sorry?” Puzzled, Bellamy looks down at her. “You didn’t dragme, Clarke. I said I would go.”

“Only because I wanted to.”

Scoffing, Bellamy leads them through the gates of Arkadia. “I don’ttake orders from you,” he reminds her.

She pinches his side where her hand rests on his waist.

“I don’t regret going,” Bellamy assures her. “I had fun. Morefun than I’ve had in a while.”

He senses Clarke’s apprehension as she shifts her body against him.“But you wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t want to go.”

“Would you have gone if I decided to hang back?” Bellamyasks.

Clarke hesitates, and that’s all Bellamy needs to know her answer.“No,” she admits.

“I didn’t mind going, Clarke,” Bellamy reiterates. “Like Ialready said, I’m glad we did. And I wouldn’t have if I didn’tthink we needed a break.”

“Did we need a break, though?” asks Clarke. She slips outfrom under Bellamy’s arm, turning to face him. She lets his handfall between them.

They’re standing outside the dilapidated station that leads totheir quarters now. The only thing disturbing the darkness shroudingthem is the burning torch hanging on the wall, flames licking thenight sky over their heads. A harsh gust of wind blows, sending itslight dancing down toward them. The glow it casts cloaks Clarke,haloing her head like a blazing golden crown. It matches the fire inher eyes and the sight sets one starting in Bellamy’s chest.

“Did we really need to go to one of Jasper’s parties?”she asks again. “We have so much mapping that needs to be donebefore we meet with the Glowing Forest Clan. Rationing, too. After wewasted all of last week dealing with Ice Nation, we can’t affordto shirk our responsibilities anymore. We can’t do this again,Bellamy.”

He fails to remember a time they ever did. “I think we should,”he says.

“Should?”

“Should shirk our responsibilities more.”

Bellamy takes a step closer to her, farther into the light of thetorch, sharing the warmth it bestows upon Clarke.

With her eyes, she levels him, and warns him with his name.“Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” he mimes her. “What exactly is the point in doingwhat we’re doing?”

Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. Clarke blinks at him,baffled, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “To saveour people, Bellamy.”

“Why?” he prompts her.

Her voice is loud when she answers him, angry. “So they can live.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy points to the woods, in the direction whereJasper’s party is still raging on. “That is what livingis. That is what you fightfor every single day.”

Clarke stares off into the distance where Bellamy directed herattention. She soaks in the trees and the land and the sky like shehasn’t seen them in a lifetime; like she knew them once, but forgotthem, and just remembered how much they fill up her heart.

“We did need tonight, Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice is soft, almostlost on the wind. “We needed to remember why we do what we do.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Clarke confesses. Hermouth flounders around words she can’t quite squeeze out yet. Hereyes are glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t even know who I amanymore.”

This side of Clarke is not new, but it isn’t one people see often.Clarke, so confident and sure, losing faith in herself and cracking.But, like she is for him, Bellamy is there, always, to catch herpieces as they fall and put them back together.

“You’re Clarke,” he says simply, “and you’re standing inthe cold with me, having an existential crisis. Sometimes you try tosave the world.”

Clarke battles the smirk struggling to inch across her face. Raisinghis brows at her, Bellamy waits for her to give in and let it. Whenfinally she can’t hold her smile back, Clarke scoffs at herself forlosing. Bellamy can’t bring himself to feel bad for her. His wordsgot through, after all.

“That was one of your more sub par motivational speeches,” Clarketells him.

Offended, Bellamy frowns down at her. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Whatever.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking up athim with small wonder. “I don’t know what I ever did to makeBellamy Blake nice to me.”

For a moment, he considers answering sarcastically. That’s when witabandons him. Nothing about Bellamy and Clarke has ever been a joketo him, after all. And she’s done everything. She’s doneeverything for him, to him, with him. She had the nerve to challengehim, and she surprised him, and she showed him the world in anentirely different way; she rescues him from his demons, every secondof every day, and lets him return the favor; she thinks about him,cares about him, and she made him do the same for himself. Clarke haschanged Bellamy, completely. She ignited a spark in his soul, onethat was always there but dimming, and taught him how to make it rageuntil it set his world aflame in a fiery inferno, fueled by purposeand possibility.

Bellamy sags before her, melting. “You gave me hope.”

It’s not the answer she expected, he can tell. Her arms fall to hersides, mouth falling open; her eyes swell with emotion once more.“Bellamy…”

Like he hasn’t just confessed she set his world spinning, heshrugs.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says again.

She inches closer, cautiously, minutely. Her eyes never leave hisonce. Not even when their chests are brushing, and they’recentimeters apart, and he can feel her breath fanning across hisskin.

“Bellamy.” His name is barely a hush falling from her lips, butit shoots heat down his spine, straight to his toes.

Clarke’s rests her hands on his chest, sliding them feather-lightup to his neck. The air escapes Bellamy’s lungs in quick, shallowspurts.

“I only have hope to give,” Clarke says, breathing her wordsstraight into him, “because you gave it to me too.”

Bellamy doesn’t believe he’s heard anything quite as unreal andearth shattering in his entire life. Somehow, he’s acquired theunique ability to inspire a belief in something more in people. Heknows this. He’s used it as a weapon. He’s sent innocent peopleto their deaths with it. Though, Clarke would remind him, he’ssaved just as many with it, too. But he’s always thought Clarke,who lives on a totally different plane than a typical human being,was impervious to him. It’s the most beautiful and terrifying thingin the universe to learn she’s not.

“Clarke.” Bellamy chokes out her name like it’s strangling him.He can’t resist from framing her face in his hands, savoring thewarmth of the blush on her cheeks. She lets herself fall into him.

Breath mingling, noses bumping, they savor the brush of skin on skin,tangling themselves together. Bellamy counts the erratic beats of herheart besides his, waiting until they’re lazy, content. He openshis drooping lids to catch her eye.

It’s a question – are you ready? Should we really take this leap?

The corners of Clarke’s mouth tick up into an answer.

Then, under the light of the moon, beneath the flames of the torch,with love kindling deep within their hearts, they do.

#the 100 #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #mine #i should have gone on more at the end but like #eh #writing physical things drains me and i have work in 5 hours #so im sleep #anonymous #qna

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