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theharrowing · 2 years ago

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exactly two months ON THE DAY wow, that's impressive.

HELLO CHELL, WELCOME BACK, MY LOVE!!! 💛

i was just about to start packing for my trip because nothing exciting was happening on the dash, and then i refreshed and THERE YOU WEEEERRRREEEE!!!!!!!! my partner is likely still not packed either, and he's still at work, so i have 0 guilt about procrastinating hehehe.

also, i do not blame you for getting mad about this one, and i am fully expecting to be yelled at lmaooooo.

the flower opening to sunlight line got me, too. i wrote it and went, "daaaaaaamn." hehehehehe.

mmhmm, mmhmm, Namjoon being too rough and saying some mean shit was honestly hard to write/proofread.

Though I believe someone once said, that if you have to second guess your love it’s not as strong as before...or something like that. So...as much as it hurts to say, maybe Hoseok needs to let Namjoon go. The trust is just about gone and I don’t think either of them can come back 100% from all this.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................like, as much as i would love to make these toxic ass fictional character stay together, at the end of the day, i don't blame Namjoon at all for the way he feels (tho i don't condone being rough in unsexy ways with your partner.) i almost did have him cheating on Hoseok out of anger, but then decided that felt too out of character for this Joonie. i do believe that they both very much love one another still, but i am also a firm believer in how sometimes love is not enough.

...i don't think i have ever said anything about JKs mom? i know i put the passwords to one of the dad's office room or computer as their late wife's birthday.....but that could have been Yoongi's dad???

hehehehehe omggggg YOU DID IT, YOU READ IT, and you have so many fun/good questions. and i am having a hard time not answering them. Jimin and Taehyung really don't seem like Jungkook and Yoongi, do they??? 🤔🤔🤔 hmmmmm.....interestingggg....🥰

THANK YOU FOR READING, MY LOVE!!!! i feel like you went easy on me lmaooooooo. but i don't blame you for just getting through it. there's a lot going on. 💛💛💛 I LOVE YOUUUU!!!!

Dollhouse 24 💛: Are you here alone?

Hoseok's job is simple: He enters the host's body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi 💛 word count: 15k words 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: rough oral & anal sex, slapping, spitting, use of safe word, humiliation, use of the word "whore", cum on face, paranoid feelings, Hoseok making more terrible fucking choices. Hoseok spirals.

💛 notes: wow, uhhhh...idk how i ended up writing a chapter this long, but here we gooooo!!! we're so close to the end, ahhhh!!!! 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted april 2023 | read on ao3

The Boss: Hoseok-ssi. I know you have already left for the day, but a file has come across my desk that I would like you to have a look at. It is from a possible client in New Zealand, and you are the only one I trust to take on someone this high profile, but it will require jumping. I will need a response in the morning, so mull over whether you think you are up for it.

Hoseok does not hesitate to agree to the position without giving it much thought at all. A job in New Zealand could not have come at a better time.

Hoseok: Count me in. I'm ready to jump again.

The Boss: Wonderful. We will discuss more tomorrow.

Ordinarily, their dynamic is that Namjoon likes to bottom and Hoseok likes to top. A surprise to neither of them, really; Hoseok has always been a bit of a control freak, and Namjoon takes care of people so much professionally that he really enjoys being taken care of at home. Tonight, however, Hoseok is going to beg to be fucked.

He gets home first, sends a text to Namjoon—

Hoseok: Hey baby, I need to discuss something very important with you, please come home as soon as possible.

—and preps himself in the shower. As soon as his phone dings, Hoseok reaches past the shower curtain, dries a hand on one of the nearby hanging towels, and clicks on the screen to find a notification waiting for him.

Namjoon: On my way!

Hoseok rinses himself, gets out of the shower, towels off, and then goes into the bedroom. First, he glances around and tries to decide on something to wear. He has his share of sexy lingerie, but he is unsure whether he is in a sexy lingerie mood. So, he sits on the edge of the bed nude and waits, thumbing through his phone for something to distract him. Typically, it takes Namjoon about fifteen minutes to get home from work, but sometimes he leaves in a rush and messages while already on his way, so Hoseok has no idea what to expect.

He does his best not to let his mind wander, but lately, it feels like an impossible task. The files that Seokjin sent Hoseok seem to be pointing to a very obvious fact, and Hoseok needs to do more digging in order to potentially corroborate the information. But he is also trying to keep his wits about him and not get too swept up in the excitement of everything.

But what if, Hoseok wonders. What if Taehyung and Jimin really are—

The sound of Namjoon pulling into the driveway rips Hoseok from his thoughts, and he blinks heavily, looking down at his phone, the screen of which has shut off in his hands. He sets the device down onto the bedside table, and as the front door flies open, followed by the sounds of shoes thudding against the wall and the front door being thrown shut, Hoseok stands, walks into the center of the room, and gets down on his knees.

"Seok?" Namjoon calls, voice sounding somewhat frantic.

Hoseok has to bite back a grin, feeling affection bloom around his ribs.

"Up here, baby!"

Namjoon barrels up the stairs, feet stomping hard enough that he must be taking two at a time with his palm rubbing against the railing—a cacophony of sound Hoseok has become all too familiar with over the years. And although the bedroom door is already partially ajar, Namjoon pushes it roughly, slamming it into the door stop on the wall while he glances around, disheveled and worried.

As soon as his eyes land on Hoseok, Namjoon stops in his tracks, nearly tripping on his feet. Hoseok has to bite down onto the inside of his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"Seok," Namjoon gasps, out of breath with a look of shock on his face.

Hoseok smiles softly, resting his palms over his knees while he stares up at his husband, watching as his brain buffers. If the roles were reversed, Hoseok would already be loosening his tie and telling Namjoon what a good little toy he is. But Namjoon always requires a little nudge.

"What," Namjoon tries again, glancing around at the bedroom, which looks just as it did when he left in the morning, as if there may be more clues to explain why his husband is nude and waiting in a submissive position. "I thought—you said—"

"Baby," Hoseok interrupts sweetly. "I do have something urgent that I would like to discuss with you. But first..." Hoseok raises an eyebrow and tips his head back delicately while letting his lips softly part—a flower opening to the sunlight.

"But first...?" Namjoon asks, walking into the bedroom with his arms hanging stiffly at his sides.

"I need you to fuck me," Hoseok says, reveling in the way Namjoon's eyes widen. "Please."

"Ah," Namjoon responds, hands rising to his grey shirt to begin working his buttons open. "Uh—of course. Yeah, of course. I can do that."

"Yeah?" Hoseok asks sweetly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Namjoon shrugs quickly out of his shirt, throwing it to the floor despite being only a few feet from the closet hamper. He tears his white tee over his head, fumbles to undo his belt, and shoves his slacks to the floor, leaving a trail of garments in his wake as he walks to Hoseok in his black socks and grey briefs.

"Yeah," Namjoon sighs, appearing somewhat dazed with his dark hair messy around his face.

"Did I worry you, baby?" Hoseok teases, blinking his eyelashes dramatically.

Namjoon's face becomes a little more stern; finally, he seems to be getting into character.

"You did."

Hoseok pushes his bottom lip out in a pout and whines, "I guess you should punish me," which is the final push Namjoon seems to need to get into the mindset, gaze sharpening while he rolls his shoulders back and towers tall over him.

"What's the goal, baby?" Namjoon asks as he reaches a hand out and cards it through Hoseok's damp hair.

"Make me forget," Hoseok responds, voice shaking ever so slightly through his words. "Want to just...cease to exist for a little while."

The hand in Hoseok's hair grips tightly and pulls straight up, elongating his back, and he attempts to alleviate the pain by following the pull until all he can do is whimper and take it. With his other hand, Namjoon gently grasps Hoseok by the jaw and squeezes, pressing his lips together, searching his face as if deciding what to do with him. Then Namjoon releases his jaw and slaps him across the cheek, hard and loud, and Hoseok gasps a deep, sharp intake of air, too shocked to make a sound.

"Color?" Namjoon asks softly.

"Green," Hoseok pants, feeling alive as the pain settles and spreads warm across his skin.

Namjoon's fist tightens around Hoseok's hair, and he slaps Hoseok on the same cheek, then pulls his hand back and backhands his other cheek in a swift, surprising motion, making Hoseok sob through the sting.

"Fuck," Hoseok gasps.

"Color?"

"Yellow."

Softly, Namjoon pets the backs of his fingers over Hoseok's cheeks. Hoseok's eyelids flutter shut, and he lets out a deep, pleased exhale. But Namjoon yanks on his hair, forcing Hoseok's eyes open.

"Eyes on me!" he commands, and Hoseok shouts, "Yes, sir!" instinctively.

"Sir?" Namjoon asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Not daddy?"

Hoseok shakes his head in small, quick movements. Not daddy. Daddy reminds him...makes him think of...

"Hmm," Namjoon groans with a devious grin. "I think I want you to call me daddy, though."

"Joon," Hoseok pleads, whimpering when his hair is pulled roughly. "Baby—sir, please!"

Namjoon crouches before Hoseok, still somewhat taller, but nearly eye-level, and he cocks his head to the side, holding tightly to his hair.

"You don't want to be reminded of him, do you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft, almost sympathetic.

Somehow, Hoseok feels the overwhelming urge to cry.

"No," he mutters pathetically. "No, I don't want to be reminded of him."

After a pause, Namjoon says, "You will call me daddy," while taking Hoseok's jaw in his hand once more, squeezing just enough for it to ache. "By the time I'm done with you, that word will only remind you of me. Are we clear?"

"Yes—" Hoseok whimpers, voice caught in his throat as tears rise to his eyes.

Namjoon squeezes tighter, and Hoseok knows it is a signal to finish his sentence.

"D-daddy," he says, choked by the vines that squeeze and squeeze. "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy," Namjoon growls as he stands.

Namjoon steps forward, crowding Hoseok's space with his cheek gently pressed against his soft cock. The soft musk of Namjoon's sweat and sweet scene of fabric softener has Hoseok's mouth watering, and he lifts his hands, eager to pull the briefs away.

"Keep your hands on your knees," Namjoon instructs as he yanks Hoseok's face forward, crashing his nose and lips into his bulge.

Hoseok huffs warmth through the fabric and allows his lips to drag, hypnotized by the familiar feeling of his husband's semi-erect yet heavy dick as it slowly hardens against him. He takes a deep inhale, desperate for his senses to be filled only with the scents of Namjoon and home.

"Do you deserve my cock?" Namjoon asks teasingly, grinding Hoseok's face into him.

"No," Hoseok whimpers pathetically.

"That's right," Namjoon responds, using his thumb to tug down on the waistband of his briefs until Hoseok's nose is buried in dark, rough hair. "You don't deserve my cock. You're lucky I don't force you to watch me fuck someone else."

Shame fills Hoseok's chest, weighing heavily. He knows it is true; he agrees.

"I bet my coworker Hoseok would break me in half. He's so strong. I bet he would fuck me so good."

Hoseok's heart pounds; it aches. Namjoon's coworker Lee Hoseok is an absolute beefcake of a man, and he has seen the shy way he looks at his husband. They have even joked in the past about Namjoon leaving him for his coworker of the same name, but this time, it does not feel like a joke. This time, it stings.

"How would that make you feel?” Namjoon continues. “ me calling your name for another man?"

A sob shakes through Hoseok's chest, and before he can stop himself, tears begin to fall from both eyes; sadness and maybe a sense of relief.

"Namjoon, please," Hoseok groans, burying his face against his husband's crotch while his nails dig into the skin of his knees.

"What about Soyoon?" Namjoon asks, voice still just as deep and laced with playful hints that swirl with anger. "Wouldn't she look so pretty sprawled out on the blue comforter, squeezing her thighs around my head?"

"Baby—" Hoseok whimpers. He does not want to think about Namjoon's shy, mysteriously gorgeous coworker like that.

"That's not what you call me," Namjoon responds curtly with a squeeze to Hoseok's hair.

Sadness wells over—bursts like a dam as Hoseok shouts, "Daddy!"

"Beg me," Namjoon commands, shoving his briefs down lower with one hand.

"Please, daddy. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me apologize."

"Make it up to me?" Namjoon scoffs, making the vines squeeze Hoseok's sorry little heart. "How could you possibly do that?"

"Please," Hoseok sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks. All he wants is to suck Namjoon's cock and make him feel good. He just wants to be used and hurt until he can no longer comprehend the world around him.

Namjoon's briefs slide past his thighs and hit the floor, and Hoseok looks up through his eyelashes pleadingly. From here, Namjoon may as well be a god towering over him; massive, omnipotent, and unforgiving.

"Open," Namjoon instructs.

Hoseok tilts his head back and lets his mouth fall open, tongue rolled out flat. With two fingers, Namjoon presses onto his tongue, slowly sliding back into Hoseok's throat and out, back and forth. The urge to gag makes tears continue to stream from Hoseok's eyes, and saliva begins to pool under and along the edge of his tongue.

"Gonna use this pretty mouth," Namjoon groans as he leans forward, pulls his fingertips to the end of Hoseok's tongue, and spits.

Hoseok gasps, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as the spit settles on his tongue. Humiliation is not something Namjoon usually enjoys; he must be really angry.

Namjoon stands tall once more—a looming presence—and Hoseok pleads with his eyes, eager for Namjoon to let out some of his wrath. He just wants things to be back to normal between the two of them, despite knowing it will probably never be the way it was before. If hurting him is a way to achieve that goal, then Hoseok wants to hurt. He needs to.

Namjoon's cock hangs heavy and leaking, and Hoseok tilts his chin toward it, flicking his tongue until it hits velvety skin. Another rough tug on Hoseok's hair makes him sob; he has gotten used to the steady pull, but the skin has also settled into a state of soreness that is easily exacerbated.

"What an eager little whore," Namjoon teases, lightly smacking his fingertips over Hoseok's tongue, filling him with the urge to cough. "Alright, if you're that desperate, suck my cock."

"Thank you, daddy," Hoseok mutters softly as Namjoon's grip on his hair loosens. He licks up Namjoon's shaft as best as he can.

Without his hands, however, Hoseok cannot quite reach the tip. With a frustrated huff, Hoseok attempts to sit higher on his knees, but he is just barely out of reach.

Namjoon laughs, filling Hoseok head to toe with shame, and he takes his cock in one hand and smacks it against Hoseok's eager tongue before letting it go to hit his stomach.

"Daddy," Hoseok whines with his tongue half hanging from his mouth.

"What's the matter, little whore? Do you need me to help you with everything?"

Namjoon's words begin to cut so deep, causing the vines to squeeze so hard, Hoseok swallows twice to rid his throat of the lump that continues to gather. The urge to cry grows stronger.

With an exaggerated sigh, Namjoon tilts his hips, takes the base of his shaft in his hand, and flicks it down, hitting Hoseok on the lips. Hoseok whimpers as his mouth falls open, and he attempts to wrap his lips around the tip, but Namjoon keeps moving it—keeps fucking with him.

"Christ, Namjoon," Hoseok snaps, and Namjoon's grip on his hair tightens, making him wince.

"What's the matter, Seok?" Namjoon growls, standing tall with his eyes squinted and something dark burning behind them. "Don't like being toyed around with, hmm?"

Tears threaten to break, and Hoseok blinks rapidly to chase the feeling away.

"No," he mutters pathetically, feeling his body fall limp and causing his hair to tug more.

Namjoon yanks Hoseok back to his knees—back to sitting up just as high as before—and Hoseok whimpers from the feeling, but allows his mouth to fall open. He wants Namjoon to use him, despite the myriad emotions this scene is conjuring inside him. He needs Namjoon to let his feelings out.

"Open," Namjoon instructs, and Hoseok sighs as his tongue lolls flat from his mouth.

The tight grip on Hoseok's hair becomes a dull sensation once more, and as Namjoon slides his cock roughly into his throat, Hoseok breathes through the urge to gag, feeling tears along his eye line begin to break. Hoseok closes his lips and sucks, doing his best to swallow back in time with Namjoon's thrusts and make it feel good for him.

Namjoon groans and places his hand under Hoseok's chin, making the squeeze in his throat tighter. Hoseok feels as if his head is caught in some sort of loose vice grip—like if he attempts to rest on his knees, Namjoon will continue to roughly hold him suspended in the air.

The sounds Hoseok's throat begins to make as Namjoon thrusts deeper and harder are low, guttural sounds that border gags and moans, sending a chill through him. The thick saliva that gathers is even worse.

Hoseok nearly fears for his ability to breathe as Namjoon's cock drives further, but he feels powerless to do anything to stop the deep, hurried thrusts, and his eyes roll back as he makes attempts to suck air in through his nose. His body starts to go limp and his ears begin to ring.

When Namjoon pulls out entirely, Hoseok gasps a horrendous involuntary sound, and he crashes to the floor, realizing a second too late that Namjoon has let his hold on him go.

"Seok," Namjoon says, but he does not sound concerned. He sounds annoyed. Inconvenienced.

Hoseok blinks heavily, hot tears stream down his face, and he swallows hard to push back all the thick, phlegmy spit. As he stares down at his hands, seeing the way his fingernails cut into his skin, he barely recognizes himself. He seems paler. Weaker.

Namjoon sighs.

"I don't fucking get you," he says. "You call me here like it's some kind of emergency, then completely dissociate."

Hoseok is almost certain that this is not what dissociating is, but he is not in his right mind to argue. And, anyway, what would be the point? His voice cracks, and the first part of his sentence gets stuck somewhere unvoiced, as he mutters, "—being too rough."

"Alright, sorry," Namjoon says as his weight shifts from one leg to the other. He does not sound sorry.

Hoseok hums, looks up, and holds his mouth open, shuttering as he takes in Namjoon's distant, angry glare.

"I can do it," he mutters, "let's keep going."

Without a word, Namjoon takes Hoseok by the face in one hand and slides his cock back into his mouth. Hoseok is somewhat surprised; he expected the tears and overall distress to stop Namjoon. He expected to have to beg.

"Feels good," Namjoon groans as the tip of his cock hits the back of Hoseok's throat, but not hard enough to make him lurch. "Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so good."

Hoseok's eyelids flutter closed, and he moans as he swallows back, gently gripping his fingertips into nail-dug skin as he does his best to breathe through each languid thrust.

Sucking Namjoon's cock is always a treat. The heavy weight of him, girth stretching his lips just slightly too much, the salty-sweet taste of his heady precome. Namjoon is heaven.

As Hoseok relaxes further into the feeling of his husband using his mouth, his tears fall less frequently, and his hands fully relax over his knees. He can forgive Namjoon for his outburst; he knows he deserves it. In fact, he deserves far worse.

"Swallow around me," Namjoon commands softly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Hoseok's mouth, smearing spit on his skin. Hoseok does as he is told, earning him a deep, pleased groan.

"That's it, fuck, so good. Gonna come soon, baby. Not gonna last long."

There is a voice in Hoseok's head that tells him that Namjoon not lasting too long is a good sign. Namjoon must not have already come today—always having more stamina the second time—and therefore, he must not be cheating on him. After all, Hoseok has expected his long evenings at work and out with coworkers to result in cheating. It is what he feels Namjoon owes him after everything he has put him through, but the thought of his big, dumb cutie being unfaithful does make him sad.

Of course, Namjoon could still be cheating; Hoseok did call him to come right home today, after all. Hoseok chooses not to dwell on it.

Instead, Hoseok sucks eagerly, even rolls his tongue when he can, anxious to make his husband come. Namjoon groans and gasps, sounds becoming louder and more desperate, hips picking up speed. With both hands, Namjoon grips Hoseok by the sides of his face and begins to trust a little harder.

Air and spit sputter out from the sides of Hoseok's mouth, and he does his best to sit pretty and let Namjoon use him as he needs. He can feel his face warm as the lack of sufficient oxygen makes it harder and harder for him to breathe, and his fingertips once again dig into his knees.

Luckily, Namjoon chases his high quickly. With two more powerful thrusts, Namjoon presses in far enough to make white burst in Hoseok's vision at the loss of oxygen before he pulls out completely and comes on Hoseok's face. Hoseok heaves for air, doing his best not to cough, eager to stay as still as he can as Namjoon paints his face.

Once he has caught his breath, Hoseok holds out his tongue to catch the last of the release, then attempts to lick as much of it from around his mouth as he can. Come drips down his cheeks and slides down the slope of his nose, and Namjoon stands, cock fisted overhead a little longer before he steps away, toward the bathroom.

"Felt good," Namjoon calls just before turning on the faucet.

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief. His heart and lungs ache, feeling tightly wound with emotion. He would love to curl up and fall asleep, but—despite everything he is feeling—he still wants to get held down and fucked. He wants it so badly, his entire body vibrates for it—every nerve needs it.

Viscous, watery fluid leaks down Hoseok’s chin, mingling with the drool that has pooled, then drops down to his chest. Namjoon must be really well-hydrated; his release is more watery than sticky today.

Namjoon returns with a small grey washcloth that looks darkened by water, and he slowly approaches, smiling down at Hoseok as he surveys the mess he has made. Then he squats, still sitting taller than Hoseok by several inches, gazing down at him with a smirk.

“So pretty covered in my come,” Namjoon mutters. “All mine.”

“Yours,” Hoseok rasps, throat feeling sore.

Namjoon gently rubs the cold, damp rag over Hoseok’s face, taking extra care to wipe his chin, neck, and chest, covering his body in goosebumps as the cool sensation shivers through him. All the while, Hoseok’s palms stay rested on his knees.

All yours, Hoseok thinks. If only he could believe in the conviction of the words.

When Hoseok arrives at his office at 8 AM on the dot, The Boss is standing beside his door with her arms folded over her chest, gripping onto a manila folder. She wears thick, dark sunglasses despite being indoors, adorned in one of her long, black dresses that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle—a dress fit for a funeral. Hoseok wonders if it will be his own life that she will be mourning as he reaches a hand out to take the document.

"New Zealand?" Hoseok asks, realizing with a pang of anxiety that he forgot to mention this job to Namjoon last night, too distracted by getting fucked within an inch of his life.

The Boss hums. "We need to bring the man back to Korea to carry out the assassination order, so your primary duty is to jump and lead him to us."

"Of course," Hoseok says as he punches in the code to his office door and pushes it open with his palm.

"And I assume you got rid of Kim Seokjin?" The Boss asks, stopping Hoseok in his tracks.

Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Yeah," then turns to face The Boss. "I asked him to provide substantial evidence for his claims, and he has not gotten in touch since. Perhaps he knew what we would find in his background check and decided not to pursue it further."

"That is a relief," The Boss states. "We have found…something…but we are working on substantiating it, first."

"Found something?" Hoseok asks, knitting his brows. "What?"

"I—" The Boss begins, then she cocks her head to the side, and Hoseok can see her mulling her words over. "Let's hold off on this conversation until the results come back."

Ordinarily, Hoseok would argue. It is a big pet peeve of his when someone begins to share information only to rescind it. But today, he has no fight in him, and he nods his head and mutters, "Fine."

"Everything alright at home?" The Boss asks.

Hoseok knows this tone, and he cracks an unconvincing smile and says, "For the most part."

Namjoon is a liability are the words Hoseok recalls, spoken by The Boss more times than he would like to admit. He knows she does not care how things at home are. He knows that she feels he would be better at his job if he was not married at all. Surely, bringing Namjoon onto the team has not changed that.

"That's good," The Boss responds flatly before she turns around and leaves.

With a glare, Hoseok watches after her, then he walks to his desk and throws himself into the uncomfortable chair that sits before it, wincing from the soreness of his ass—a reminder of the night before. As he lifts the file and allows it to fall open, he sees an image of an older man who appears to be Korean, dressed in a suit. There is nothing about the man that stands out in any way, and Hoseok reads through the file quickly. The mission is to jump into the man's advisor's body—against the advisor's will—and hand the two of them over to a team that will escort them back to Korea. Easy enough.

Hoseok sighs and tosses the folder onto his desk, letting the papers fly from it and fall over the opposite edge, landing on his leather chair, and possibly on the floor. New Zealand is still a bit of a trek to Australia, but it is closer than he is now. Hoseok looked up flights last night, right after Namjoon fell asleep.

The information Seokjin gave him seems pretty clear. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung popped up on Seokjin's radar the day The Boss claimed Yoongi and Jeongguk went missing. The crimes that Park and Kim are allegedly running from seem to have all been fabricated in order to get Hoseok's attention. But why? Why is Seokjin unable to come right out and tell Hoseok point blank that these bodies may be hosting the consciousnesses of the men he is searching for, if that is, in fact, what Seokjin is trying to say? What does Seokjin have to lose? What could his connection to them be?

The phone on Hoseok's desk rings and he lets out a heavy sigh and stands from the chair, rounds his desk, and picks up the receiver, staring down at the paperwork that is scattered on his office chair and the floor.

"This is Jung," Hoseok says, making a failed attempt to not sound absolutely dead inside.

"Hoseok-ssi," The Boss says, and Hoseok hums in response, "the target has just made a reservation at the Sofitel in Wellington, and appears to be checking out one week from today. In the event that he moves, I want to try to get to him first. What are the odds of getting you on a flight in the morning?"

Tomorrow morning is way too soon. Hoseok will hardly have a chance to explain to Namjoon what is going on, and what if his pivot to Australia winds up taking him a while? How long will he be away from his husband on such short notice?

"Tomorrow morning is fine," Hoseok responds, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Perfect." The Boss responds, sounding pleased as she hangs up.

With a sigh, Hoseok hangs up the phone, then he slowly gets down on his knees to pick up the spilled paperwork and shove it back into the file folder. He considers what he is going to tell Namjoon, then he stands, grabs the papers from his chair, and places it all on top of his desk in a pile before picking up his office phone once more and dialing Namjoon's extension at work.

It takes four rings before Namjoon picks up, and Hoseok is grateful that he is around rather than helping a patient. Namjoon's voice almost sounds foreign to Hoseok, with how chipper it is when he says, "This is Kim's office."

"Joon," Hoseok blurts, feeling a heavy wave of sadness settle over him from how unusual Namjoon's happy tone sounds, "hey, sorry for calling you at work."

"Oh," Namjoon responds, voice dropping, sounding concerned, "Seok, baby, is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Hoseok feels the weight of leaving the country pressing heavily on his shoulders and tears well into his eyes. He swallows a lump and breathes through the tight, tight squeeze as the vines snake through each rib.

"Uh—I, uh…Yeah. Kind of."

"Can we talk about this in person, tonight?"

"It's The Boss. She wants to send me to New Zealand."

"Oh."

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Hoseok rubs a hand over his cheek and closes his eyes, letting out a huff of air. Moments ago, he was somewhat content with everything, and now he feels stricken by regret.

Namjoon sighs, and Hoseok braces himself, expecting the worst. Not that things could get much worse.

"Well, I was going to take a trip home to visit my family in a few weeks, but maybe I'll push it up and leave this weekend."

"Oh?"

Hoseok finds this news surprising; he had no idea Namjoon had been planning another trip home. Not that Ilsan is far at all, but typically, Hoseok travels with his husband.

"Yeah. I just think I need a breather after everything that has happened, you know?"

Another breather. Only a couple of months ago, Namjoon went to Ilsan for a breather, and now he feels the need to go again?

"Alright," Hoseok responds, failing to sound positive. "That works out well, then."

A voice calls to Namjoon, and Hoseok's heart pounds heavily as Namjoon chuckles and says, away from the phone, "Sounds great, Yoon; be right there!" and then returns to Hoseok to say, "Lunch is here, so I am going to let you go. See you at home?"

Lunch with Soyoon. Soyoon brought Namjoon lunch. Hoseok does his best not to spiral.

"Alright. See ya," Hoseok mutters before hanging up and throwing himself down into his office chair.

He wonders how things could get any more fucking cumbersome.

[Unknown]: Hoseok-ssi, this is KSJ. I have information on your boys. They have a reservation at the Park Hyatt in Sydney, with a checkout date of Saturday morning. I hear the botanical garden is lovely this time of year.

Hoseok: When do they check in?

Hoseok watches as his message is never delivered. So communication with Seokjin is a one-way street. He supposes he can handle that. Briefly, his thumbs twitch as he considers calling the line he already had for the man, but if Seokjin is going out of his way to communicate through unknown numbers, Hoseok already knows he will not be reached on his main line.

Sydney is much closer to New Zealand than Perth, and Hoseok cannot help but wonder if this is no coincidence. But it has to be, right? There is no way Seokjin has managed to orchestrate another hit just to get him close to Australia. That seems ridiculous. Considering Seokjin never pressed Hoseok about the alleged and suspected charges, Hoseok wonders if he was never going to formally pursue a hit on the two men at all, but he just wanted Hoseok to pay attention to Park and Kim.

It certainly does not seem impossible. Seokjin does not work for a government agency, but there is something about him…something that The Boss suspects. But what? Hoseok does find it quite interesting that both his target and his persons of interest seem to be making moves at the same time, and that hotel reservations are the specific pieces of information being fed to him by both his boss and Seokjin. Does Seokjin have some way of monitoring his correspondences? He is beginning to think like a conspiracy theorist.

Ever since Seokjin's visit, Hoseok has been spending less and less time watching the CCTV feeds. He no longer believes Yoongi and Jeongguk are likely to be in Japan. He knows it is foolish to think the two men in Australia could be them, but…what if? How else could they have disappeared without a trace?

By the time 6 PM rolls around, Hoseok shuts his monitor off, shoves his paperwork into his desk, and stands up, glancing around the office. Light dapples in through tall black and silver curtains, covering the room in a dreamy glow.

Hoseok does not wish to ever return to this office. The more he takes in his surroundings, thinking about all the lives he has taken, and those he has lost, he feels a deep contempt and hatred, compounded by a sense of longing that almost settles into his bones like nostalgia.

He wonders if he would be better off never knowing Yoongi and Jeongguk. If he could turn back time, pursue a different line of work, and never cross their paths, he and Namjoon would not be so strained, and he would not be so set on disappearing completely. He is relieved that Namjoon is returning to Ilsan, to visit his family. He wonders if he should recommend Namjoon stays there a while longer. Possibly for good.

With his face buried in his pillow for the second night in a row, Hoseok feels as if he may just be on the brink of total ascension. Soul leaving the body, and all that—enlightened beyond the realm of what is humanly imaginable.

Namjoon fucks him slow and deep, pressing hard on the back of his head while his other hand grips the tip of Hoseok’s cock, squeezing any time he starts to feel close, as if Namjoon is hardwired to know precisely when he is ready to burst.

Hoseok grips and claws at soft quilted fabric, breath ragged and hot, sticking to his skin as it condensates with nowhere else to go, suffocating him as his bliss ebbs and flows to high highs and abrupt stops. He could die like this. He practically begs Namjoon to press hard enough to cut off the flow of oxygen completely.

“So fucking good for me,” Namjoon moans as he thrusts languidly. Two loads of his come squelch with every movement; Namjoon has been making Hoseok wait a long time before he can finish. Hoseok does not mind. “Gonna be so sore, you’ll feel me all the way to New Zealand, baby.”

Hoseok whimpers and squeezes the comforter harder, lamenting having to leave. He almost feels guilty for how quickly he knows he will forget about Namjoon the moment his feet touch new soil. Once he focuses on finding them, everything else will fade into obscurity.

“On your back,” Namjoon mutters, voice sounding deep and broken as he pulls out and releases Hoseok’s cock, making him tremble and whine, feeling so terribly empty.

Hoseok falls to his hip and takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut as he rolls onto his back. As he squints his eyes open, blinking so as to not let in too much light, Namjoon’s torso and neck come into view, flushed and covered in a layer of sweat.

“Wanna look at you while I come inside you one last time,” Namjoon says, making Hoseok’s stomach churn from how final it all sounds. “Want to watch you come once more before you’re gone.”

“G-gone,” Hoseok mutters quietly, voice croaking around the word, throat raw from screaming into the pillow.

Namjoon grips Hoseok’s hips to yank and press him into place, lines himself with Hoseok’s sore, used hole, then spits on Hoseok’s cock and grips it tightly, rolling his palm over the head. The pressure from orgasm after orgasm being denied has every touch feeling electric to the point of being painful, and Hoseok gasps and groans from the touch, pleasure-pain shooting through his limbs and festering deep in his guts.

“So pretty,” Namjoon praises as he slowly fills Hoseok, pressing his thick length past each ring of abused and tired muscle.

Hoseok whimpers and sobs, feeling too overwhelmed by the sight of his husband towering over and glaring down on him. Everything is too much, and Hoseok wishes he could return to being pressed face down. Suffocation would certainly be easier on the heart.

With a deep, rumbly groan, Namjoon pulls back and thrusts forward quickly, causing Hoseok's entire body to freeze, spine locked in an arch, as a sob quakes through him and trembles from between his lips. He is suddenly so dreadfully close to the edge and already beyond the point of overstimulation.

"You gonna come already, baby?" Namjoon teases, rolling his palm over Hoseok's cock while he pulls back and thrusts forward, back and forward, picking up a pace much steadier than anything he has done for the past incomprehensible amount of time.

"I'm—" Hoseok sobs, squeezing his eyes closed as Namjoon thrusts deep and opening them widely when he pulls back. "Yes."

"Good boy."

Hoseok whimpers as Namjoon continues to fuck him, and his heels dig uselessly against the blue comforter, unable to find a stable position. His legs are restless, but he lacks the energy to hold them in place, instead clawing at the blanket with both hands, down at his sides.

"T-too much," Hoseok whines, knowing that if he really needs Namjoon to slow or stop, that he will have to use his safeword, not wanting to.

Namjoon knits his brows and juts out his lip into a mock pout, responding, "You can take it, baby," in a tone dripping with mirth, making Hoseok want to cry.

Hoseok is not entirely sure he can take it. His entire body begins to stiffen and convulse against the mattress as sharp, overwhelming waves of horrible pleasure rock through him, pulling him asunder. Close. So, terribly close.

"So good for me," Namjoon groans, giving Hoseok's cock a firm, nearly painful squeeze. "For me and only me,"

"Only you…" Hoseok mutters as his eyes roll back and he succumbs to innumerous feelings, trembling and sobbing as the pleasure bursts and overcomes him.

"That's it," Namjoon groans, voice sounding affected—broken around the edges.

Hoseok paints himself in release, spraying his neck, chest, and tummy, aided by Namjoon's insistent fist. Much to his demise, Namjoon's hips speed up, shooting blinding amounts of pleasure-pain through him. It hurts—it hurts to the extent of Hoseok nearly calling his safeword and begging Namjoon to stop. The oxygen feels pressed sharply from his lungs, and he squeezes his eyes closed so hard, his head begins to ache.

"Joon…" he mutters, voice barely audible over the slap of skin against sweaty skin. "Pl–please baby…hurts…"

With a loud, long groan, Namjoon's hips still and tremble, and he pulls from Hoseok's stretched, aching hole and sprays his come over Hoseok's thigh, tummy, and deflating cock, droplets compared to his earlier loads, but still more than Hoseok would expect. The fluids instantly begin to cool, along with the sweat that covers him, and Hoseok's shoulders and chest tense as he begins to shiver.

"God damn," Namjoon gasps, leaning forward on one hand propped beside Hoseok's hip while he squeezes his cock in the other. "Fuck. Look at you, shivering and covered in come. Such a pretty fuck toy, baby."

The impulse to cry returns, and Hoseok attempts to blink it away, feeling a trembling exhale work its way through his chest and throat.

"C-cold," he whines, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Alright, let's get you into a hot shower," Namjoon says in a tone that is flat, possibly verging on annoyance, though Hoseok could be imagining it.

Namjoon leaves the room and makes his way to the bathroom. Lazily, Hoseok drops his head to the side and watches as his husband's ass flexes and relaxes—perky and soft. The sound of the faucet turning on makes Hoseok groan, and he sits up slowly, feeling his muscles settle somewhat painfully from being fucked so hard and for so long.

When Namjoon returns, he appears exasperated. His lips are tugged down into a frown, and he looks everywhere but at Hoseok, even as he approaches and scoops him up bridal style to take into the bathroom. Despite the feeling of discomfort that engulfs and settles down into his bones, Hoseok leans into Namjoon, shivering against his warm skin, and Namjoon squeezes him a bit in response.

"I'll miss you, Seok," Namjoon mutters as they enter the bathroom.

And although Hoseok knows Namjoon must only be talking about missing him while Hoseok is away on his work trip, the way he says it feels heavy. Matched with the way he was speaking moments ago about fucking him one last time, Hoseok's mind races. What if he returns and Namjoon has decided to move on, leaving him alone in this home? He knows he deserves it.

"I'll miss you too, Joonie," Hoseok responds solemnly, thankful to be set beside the shower so that he can step into the tub, allowing the steam and water to greet him—warm and welcoming, and a cover for his tears.

Hoseok is beginning to stir, letting the early morning sunlight break through, turning his dreams into distant blurs that are slowly wiping from his mind. He hardly makes sense of Namjoon's voice sweetly saying, "Rise and shine, baby," until delicate touches against his forehead and cheek bring the waking world more quickly into focus.

"Hmm?" Hoseok grumbles, stretching his legs out, followed by his arms, which he lifts over his head.

"You have a long trip ahead of you, so I thought I would head to work a little late and see you off," Namjoon responds low and close, leaving warm breath after each word to ghost over Hoseok's face.

Namjoon smells minty and sweet, and Hoseok would chase his lips to have a taste, if only his own breath weren't putrid from sleep. Slowly, Hoseok opens his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the light. Namjoon has opened the curtains, and although the sun has yet to fully rise, it is more than Hoseok is used to when he wakes.

"What would my husband like for breakfast?" Namjoon asks, and Hoseok nearly pinches himself to check that he is awake, after all.

"Coffee and an omelet?" Hoseok responds, voice still raw from overuse.

With a hum, Namjoon kisses Hoseok on the forehead, then makes his way from the bedroom. Hoseok groans and stretches once more, then he sits up, digging his palms into the mattress while the pain in his ass radiates through him, making him hiss. Namjoon certainly fulfilled his promise to make him sore, and he hopes the eleven-hour plane ride is not too painful.

Hoseok sits a moment, gathering his thoughts and allowing his brain to fully catch up to being awake. Then he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the mattress while pushing away the comforter, and sets his feet onto the floor. It feels like only yesterday, Hoseok could barely manage this much movement without feeling intense bursts of blinding pain radiating from his side, and he stares at his feet, grateful for mobility. And for community. Although getting wrapped up in Yoongi and Jeongguk's mess was what got him shot in the first place, Hoseok is grateful to have had them by his and Namjoon's side while he recovered. He thinks about that incident often.

As Hoseok gets out of bed and makes his way to the closet, the smell of coffee slowly permeates the air, hitting his nose. He takes a deep, slow inhale and smiles on each exhale while finding an undershirt and suit for the day—all black, of course. He can faintly hear the sounds of kitchenware, and he gets dressed a little quicker than usual, excited to have breakfast with his husband.

He promises himself that once he completes the job in New Zealand and confirms his suspicions in Australia, he will be ready to move on and be devoted once more to Namjoon. Although he misses Yoongi and Jeongguk terribly, he feels certain that he is finally at peace with whatever mess transpired between the four of them being over. Enough time has passed, and he does not crave Yoongi the way he used to.

He will miss occupying Jeongguk's body, but his main concern is that the two of them are still alive. He can deal with the possibility of them being in different vessels if and when the time comes. He just needs to see that they are alive. Perhaps losing the temptation of their former bodies will put everything to rest.

"Ready, Seok!" Namjoon shouts from downstairs, and Hoseok smiles wide, nibbling on his lower lip. He wonders how he got so lucky to run into Namjoon all those years ago at that shitty college party. He wonders if Namjoon feels lucky sometimes, too.

"Coming," Hoseok responds, though not too loud.

He snakes a belt through the loops of his slacks and begins to buckle it, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair is beginning to grow too long, the back falling below his ears, but he likes the way it frames his face, shaggy and a bit unkempt.

Hoseok pulls a black blazer from its hanger and drapes it over his arm, then approaches his mahogany jewelry box, lifting the lid and pulling out his favorite Rolex—a black watch face with silver details and a silver band. Then he makes his way from his bedroom, to the stairs.

Part of him feels sentimental about leaving, but he is too excited about breakfast to let that weigh on him too heavily. He will have to bear the burden of his choices eventually, but for now, Namjoon is waiting for him. And considering the chance that Namjoon might not be here when he returns, Hoseok knows that he needs to appreciate every moment that he can, right now.

As he walks down the stairs, he notices his suitcase is already down on the landing, and he smiles to himself. Namjoon really has thought of everything, it seems. A relief, considering Hoseok had forgotten to grab it, too busy wrapped up in his thoughts. The air smells of coffee and melted butter, and Hoseok reaches the bottom of the staircase with a pep in his step and spins in socked feet toward the kitchen.

Namjoon stands in a black hoodie and sweatpants, which is an uncharacteristic sight, and Hoseok wonders just how much later he plans to go into work. He tries not to think of the familiar attire on Yoongi and Jeongguk, but it feels impossible, and he sighs as he smiles and allows his husband to pull him into a hug.

"How long do you expect to be away?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to Hoseok's temple.

Truthfully, Hoseok has no idea. As long as his target is where The Boss says he is, Hoseok could have his actual mission complete by tomorrow. But as for when he will return home…

"Hopefully no longer than a week," Hoseok responds with a sigh.

Namjoon plants a kiss on Hoseok's cheek, then steps back and motions for him to have a seat. His breakfast is going to be cold, but Hoseok hardly cares as he lets his fingertips linger on the soft black cotton before pulling away.

At the sight of only one plate, Hoseok feels a bit sad; he had hoped that he and Namjoon would share a meal before he leaves. But Namjoon does have a seat across from him, cradling a white ceramic mug of steaming coffee, and Hoseok decides that is good enough.

"I might still be in Ilsan when you return," Namjoon says, pulling Hoseok's attention and making him hum. "I'll keep you posted, though."

Hoseok grabs his coffee cup and lifts it to his lips, muttering, "Alright," before taking a sip of the steaming, bitter liquid. Then he sets the mug down and eats his omelet, rushing through it just a tad so that he can round the table, straddle Namjoon's thighs, and get back to hugging and kissing him before he finally has to leave.

"Do we have time to fuck?" Namjoon asks against Hoseok's lips, breath smelling like coffee while his candor takes him by surprise.

"I don't think I could handle it," Hoseok responds, rubbing his fingertips over Namjoon's neck. His ass is far more sore than he would care to admit.

"What if I already stretched myself with a plug this morning?" Namjoon asks, rubbing his palms down Hoseok's chest and stomach before gripping onto his thighs.

Hoseok gasps. "Oh?"

Namjoon hums in response and begins to palm over Hoseok's crotch, sending blood flooding to the warmth left by his touch. If Namjoon is already prepped, they should have time for a quickie.

"Alright," Hoseok says, checking his watch to confirm he has about twenty minutes until he has to leave. "I want you naked and on your knees, on the couch."

Hoseok sits up straight and gets onto his feet, taking in the sight of Namjoon disheveled and flushed, lounging back against his wooden dining room chair.

He steps back, giving him space as Namjoon nods, smiles, and mutters, "Yes, daddy."

Thanks to the aid of prescription medication, most of the eleven-hour and twenty-five-minute flight goes by in a blink of an eye. Hoseok wakes up drowsy and stretches as the plane skids over the tarmac, slowing to a taxi while the sun shines brightly into the small windows. He has never been to New Zealand before, and although he is interested in taking in the scenery, his brain has not fully logged back on.

Beside him, across the tiny aisle, The Boss sits staring out her window with a glass of white wine in her hand, dangling by the stem between two manicured fingers. She must sense Hoseok is awake, because without turning to look at him, she says, "I have confirmation on the…information…that I began to share with you, yesterday."

"Oh?" Hoseok asks through a yawn.

The Boss hums. "As you recall, it is in regards to Seokjin. I fear that once I share his information with you, you might do something irrational."

"Try me," Hoseok responds, already feeling fed up with her tone.

The plane slows to a stop, and outside workers are positioning a metal ladder outside while an attendant begins to open the door from the inside. The Boss drinks back the last of her wine and holds the empty glass out for another attendant to walk by and grab, then she unbuckles her seatbelt, stands, and smooths her hands over her long black dress—another fit for a funeral.

"Kim Seokjin is a Jeon," The Boss says simply.

Hoseok's head races, though he already knows what she is trying to tell him. The resemblance between Seokjin and Jeongguk was hard to miss.

She continues, "A Jeon who is not eager for his father to be assassinated, I suspect. Hence attempting to pull you off of his little brother's trail to focus on a fake job."

Or, Hoseok thinks, he is eager to get his little brother back. Perhaps he assumed that once Hoseok came into contact with his targets, he would know that one of them is Jeongguk in a new body. Maybe he does want his father to be assassinated; he seems quite a bit older than Jeongguk. Perhaps whatever his father is in charge of, Seokjin will be next in line for. He could even be throwing Jeongguk under the bus, hoping for the kid to do his dirty work.

"Interesting," Hoseok responds as he undoes his seatbelt and stands.

Hoseok begins to make his way to the exit, already finished with this conversation. Now he definitely wants to get this job finished as quickly as possible so he can get onto a red-eye to Sydney.

"I recommend you stay away from him," The Boss adds, but Hoseok does not stop, only mutters, "Got it."

"I mean it, Hoseok-ssi," she continues. "Last we heard, he was laying low in Tokyo. Whatever it is he seems to be running away from, it could have something to do with the Korean government. He could be working with Yakuza."

Hoseok nods and exits the airplane, squinting as the sunlight fully permeates his vision. He is tired and grumpy, and he just wants to get jumped and take care of his client. The Boss is close behind, footfalls clicking against the metal ladder as Hoseok reaches the bottom, and he heads toward a black car, anticipating The Boss to climb into the front seat.

Hoseok opens the door behind the driver and gets into the car, then shuts it and takes in the smell of artificial leather that has undoubtedly been sprayed, perhaps to give an air of newness or importance. Once The Boss gets into the front seat, a staff member places their luggage into the trunk and closes it, then the car takes off.

"We are going to take you straight to the target host and get you in and out quickly," The Boss states.

Music to Hoseok's ears.

"Sounds good," Hoseok mutters as he closes his eyes and rests his head back.

With any luck, he may be able to avoid checking into the hotel altogether.

Although it is possible to jump into the body of a person who has been knocked out, The Boss prefers not to go that route. Depending on the method used to knock out a host, their body may be sluggish, and that is the last thing an assassin needs. So when Hoseok shows up to the penthouse of some fancy hotel to find a man bound to a chair and whimpering into a gag, he sighs.

Of course, he agrees with The Boss, and prefers his hosts to be as alert as possible, but jumping into the body of a man who has been struggling enough to break out into a sweat is also not optimal. Not only is he risking feeling soreness, but he is going to have to clean the man enough to make him presentable to the target, which is a hassle.

Without skipping a beat, Hoseok approaches the hotel bed and pulls off his black blazer, draping it over the back of a nearby empty chair before taking a seat and swinging his legs up. He lays his head into the receiver, then reaches back to uncork his implant and plug himself in. The metal feels cold as it slides past his skin, though he cannot feel anything once it enters the receptor nestled in his brain.

"Ready?" The Boss calls, and Hoseok closes his eyes and hums before saying, "Ready."

"Jumping in 3…2…"

A ringing can be heard before everything goes black and then white.

It always feels weird to wake up in someone else's body. The discombobulation of space and time, adjusting for hand-eye coordination in a new skinsuit with different length limbs and overall proportions, acclimating as quickly as possible to carry out the tasks at hand.

But he always adjusts quickly because he is the best.

Nobody is better than Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok opens the host's eyes, he feels the soreness in the man's biceps and thighs from being bound to the wooden chair, and he closes the host's eyes and sighs, doing his best to relax the man's muscles while the team checks to make sure it is, in fact, Hoseok jumped into his skin.

"Birthday?" a man asks as the cloth is pulled down away from Hoseok's host's mouth.

"Nineteen ninety-four, eighteen, two."

"And your spouse?" The man asks.

Hoseok clicks the host's tongue against the roof of his mouth and mutters, "Keep my husband out of this."

The man looks past Hoseok, undoubtedly to The Boss, who must give him a signal to accept the answer.

Hoseok is untied from the chair and stands, stretching the long, heavy limbs with the hope of relieving some tension.

"Your host and the target have a dinner reservation at the restaurant downstairs," The Boss informs as Hoseok cracks his host's neck and stretches the arms out once more. "All we need you to do is get the man into a car afterward. How you manage that is up to you, as long as it does not cause a scene."

Before falling asleep on the airplane, Hoseok watched a video compilation of the two men interacting and determined that the target is pretty easily persuaded by the host, who goes by the name of Ahn Ilseong. The target—a man named Choi Giseok—is a lawyer who has been taking bribes from some pretty high-profile clients, recently assisting in the building of an apartment complex that will cover what the Korean government believes to be a burial grounds for a now-defunct gang whose operators are still lurking in the shadows of Seoul.

After the discovery of two bodies, detectives have been working around the clock to catch those in charge and put a stop to the building operations, but the man Hoseok meets with today has been influential in covering everyone's tracks.

While taking hush money, Choi has been approving building codes and ordinances for the construction of that building, despite the place being an active crime scene, using his power and influence to secure a certain police chief who Choi has promised to help make a mayor, right into his pocket. Hence the hit placed on his head; taking down a lawyer is far easier than taking down the police, but Hoseok expects this case to extend into their precinct, should this job not send a clear enough message.

Hoseok approaches his own body, which lies unconscious on the bed, and rummages through his front pocket to grab his cell phone. Then he types in his passcode and makes his way to the suite's bathroom to clean up while he replays videos of the host to watch for mannerisms and listen for speech patterns.

This time frame is a little tight and not ideal, but he is confident he can figure it out. Worst case scenario, he drugs the man and makes it appear as though he is too drunk and needs to be escorted out to a car. It does not quite fit the whole not-making-a-scene profile, but it is a plausible enough scenario.

Once Hoseok has the host's face washed and hair combed with enough dry shampoo to rid the sweaty and disheveled appearance he found him in, Hoseok bids The Boss farewell and makes his way down to the lobby with ten minutes to spare before their reservation.

Choi Giseok is already at the bar when Hoseok arrives, and he approaches on the man's right side, slinging an arm over his shoulder, doing his best not to gag from the overwhelming stench of cigar smoke, sweat, and booze. Much to Hoseok's delight, he seems to be on his way to being wasted.

"Starting without me?" Hoseok chides, as he looks down at the man's drink and back to his face.

Choi squints at him, and for a split moment, Hoseok worries that already he may be blowing his own cover. He is, after all, a little rusty from not working as much as he used to. Perhaps his studies were not thorough enough.

"Ahn, you son of a bitch!" Choi finally slurs, setting Hoseok's mind at ease. "Have a drink with me, and then we will sit down to dinner and discuss the deal, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hoseok responds with a crooked smile, breathing in through the host's mouth in an attempt to avoid Choi's stench as he settles on the stool beside him. He waves down the tender, orders one of "whatever he's having," and sets the night in motion.

It takes exactly two hours of listening to the old man babble bullshit, eating steak, and drinking whiskey before Hoseok is able to get him into a car on its way to the airport. He does not even put up a fuss; hardly seeming cognizant of where he is. Easy peasy.

The walk back through the hotel lobby and to the elevators is a bit rushed and stumbly due to his attempts to keep up with Choi's unrelenting need to drink and drink. He wastes no time, feeling the host's pulse spike as he makes his way back to the penthouse suite, to his body.

By the time Hoseok is back in his own skin, he feels restless. Two men drug a very combative Ahn Ilseong and drag him out while Hoseok smooths his jacket down with his palms. The thrill of completing a task feels duller than usual, and he checks his Rolex to find that it is already after 8 PM. He is quite tired, but not enough to stay on this island. He needs to get to Australia.

"I trust that we have someone waiting for these men back home to carry out the rest of the mission," Hoseok says, pretending to adjust his silver cufflinks while ignoring the way The Boss must be glaring at him.

"And why would you assume such a thing?" she asks after a few tense seconds of silence.

"Your description of the job only included jumping and getting the man into custody," Hoseok says, glancing up to find her squinting at him with her hands on her hips. "There was no mention of me carrying out the assassination."

"And just who the fuck else will carry it out?" The Boss snaps.

Hoseok fights the urge to laugh—this really should not strike him as funny, but he is mentally and emotionally checked out.

"Any of the other men," Hoseok responds, lifting a brow and dropping his hands to his sides. "We have a whole team."

The Boss studies him for a moment, then crosses her arms tightly over her chest before asking, "You're going to Australia, aren't you?"

"That is correct," Hoseok responds; he figures he may as well be honest.

"Hoseok—" she begins, but he cuts her off.

"I think it's them. At the very least, I need to see for myself."

"And if they're not?" The Boss challenges, cocking her head to the side.

Hoseok drops his gaze to the forest green carpet and shrugs.

"If they're not, then they're not. Either way, I will be home in a few days."

"I thought I told you to stay away from Seokjin," she tries, and Hoseok senses a tremble in her voice.

"This isn't about Seokjin. This is about Yoongi and Jeongguk. I need to go."

The Boss does not say anything at first, and Hoseok hovers for a few beats before deciding he would like to get to the airport as quickly as he can. He unlocks his phone and searches for whether or not New Zealand has Uber, then navigates to the app and calls for a car to the airport.

"I won't send you there with the company's fuel," The Boss says, possibly as a last-ditch effort to make Hoseok change his mind. He hadn't planned on using the private jet in the first place.

Hoseok lifts his phone and turns the screen toward The Boss, showing her the Uber app with a map open. A little black car symbol is at the far bottom of the screen, connected to a dot where the hotel is by a long, winding black line.

"Already have it figured out," he says.

"Alright," The Boss concedes. "But be careful."

With a hum, Hoseok takes his leave.

A car is thirteen minutes away, but Hoseok has no desire to stay inside the suite a moment longer than he needs to, so he straightens his suit jacket once more and makes for the door, stopping to extend the handle of his black rolling suitcase and gripping tightly to it as he flings the door open and away from him. There is a light, lingering stench of perfume in the air—something too sweet to be considered pleasant—and Hoseok scrunches his nose as he walks through the empty hallway, shoes sinking into forest green carpeting as he makes his way toward the elevator.

Guilt pangs through Hoseok's chest as a sense of déjà vu hits him. Hotel hallways with ill intentions, acting as a liminal space between where he should be headed and where he wants to be.

He should at least message Namjoon to let him know he is thinking about him.

By the time Hoseok reaches the elevator, his heart pounds with anticipation. What if he finds Park and Kim and discovers they are two men in their own bodies, actually running from the Korean government? What if Seokjin is setting him up to be captured or killed? What if his suspicions are correct but Yoongi and Jeongguk, in these shiny new bodies, want nothing to do with him?

Hoseok wonders if this is the first time Yoongi has permanently jumped into someone else's body. Is it something he does regularly? What kinds of horrible secrets could he be hiding?

The doors of the elevator grind open and pull Hoseok from his thoughts. Had he pushed a call button? He hardly remembers approaching the lift at all, but it is empty when he steps in, so he must have called for it. With a sigh, Hoseok hits the first-floor button and pulls out his phone, checking to see that the car is seven minutes away.

Hoseok opens his search engine and begins to see if there are any flights that leave for Sydney tonight. Depending on how quickly he can get to the airport, he might be able to catch a flight immediately. Otherwise, he will have to wait several hours.

As the elevator doors open, Hoseok stands tall and makes his way into the lobby, eyes ahead on the dark sky just outside the glass doors and wall. No detail of the space lingers long enough in Hoseok's periphery to make it out; only the vague memory of light marble, dark upholstered chairs, and matching carpeting cross his mind before fading to obscurity.

The cool night air instantly chills Hoseok as he steps outside. He shivers and pulls his phone out, checking to see that the Uber driver is four minutes away, and that he should be pulling right up to the doors. Then he glances around, and instead of finding a bench to sit on, he decides to make his way over to an empty stretch of wall to lean against it.

Hoseok wishes he had a cigarette—an urge he does not have often. Nicotine would be nice at a time like this.

As Hoseok waits, he stares ahead at the ground—black and dark grey and somewhat foreboding under the glow of the yellow lights coming off the hotel. There is a part of him that almost hopes that the driver does not get him to the airport on time for the soonest flight, just so that he can sit with his thoughts and prolong the inevitable, but he knows that if that does become the case, his thoughts could very well eat him alive.

For weeks, he has been a shell of a man searching and waiting and worrying. He needs closure. He needs to at least try.

Hoseok's phone dings to alert him that the black Honda Civic is approaching, and he looks up to find a car that fits the description pulling into the round driveway in front of the hotel. Hoseok straightens out, confirms the license plate number, then makes his way to the vehicle. When the driver gets out after popping his trunk, Hoseok allows the man to take his suitcase and place it inside, then he slides into the back seat on the passenger side and takes in the stench of fake leather that reminds him of the ride over from the airport this morning.

"Alright, mister…" the driver says in a thick, somewhat unfamiliar English accent as Hoseok puts on his seatbelt and the man stares at his phone, undoubtedly trying to make sense of a Korean name.

"Hoseok," Hoseok mutters for him while rolling his eyes to gaze out the window to his right.

The driver hums and says, "Off to the airport, I see," then waits for a beat, possibly for Hoseok to respond, before driving off.

Thankfully, they are not too far from the destination, because the stink of the fake leather is beginning to give Hoseok a headache. He is feeling extremely cranky and he just wants to be on his way. Opening the window for a moment blasts cold air into his face and he quickly rolls it back up with a huff before spacing out once more.

New Zealand seems like a neat place, he thinks. But he has no desire to be here.

It takes them a little while to get up to the correct doors, but once the car is pulled up to the curb, Hoseok gets out and makes his way quickly to the trunk, which pops open. The driver only halfway gets out of the car before Hoseok can slam the trunk shut and mutter a quick, "Thanks," and then he sets the wheels of the suitcase onto the ground and hastily makes his way into the airport.

Lines are short, and Hoseok approaches a kind-looking older lady, and says, in slow English, "I am hoping to get onto a flight to Sydney, please."

The transaction takes all of ten minutes, with Hoseok wheeling off to the security line, which moves quicker than he expects. The bad news is that the soonest flight to Sydney is already too soon for the attendant to have issued him a seat in good faith, and Hoseok tells himself that he is relieved not to have to sprint through an unfamiliar airport. The good news is that the bar near his gate is open late, and boy, is Hoseok thirsty.

Approaching a bar and being spoken to in English takes Hoseok momentarily off-guard. He had just been speaking English to the woman at the counter to get a flight ticket, but something about ordering a drink from a tender—an action he has performed many times—feels strange to do in another language. But he spots a familiar bottle of whiskey and orders a glass, easing quickly into the interaction.

Although he has several hours to kill, the airport bar is pretty empty of patrons, so Hoseok decides to strike up conversation and work on his English accent a little. The tender is pretty cute, and he finds his accent charming, and Hoseok thinks there are worse ways to kill a few hours.

The moment Hoseok wakes up—jolted from the feeling of the plane touching down—he yawns and squeezes his eyes closed before opening them wide. Then he switches his phone from airplane mode and watches as notifications pour in. Two are from Namjoon, letting him know that he is on his way to Ilsan and that he hopes everything is going well for Hoseok, and one from an unknown number.

[Unknown]: Your boys have been spotted at a popular nightclub not too far from the hotel. Will attach the location. They may be there again tonight.

Hoseok does not bother to try responding, assuming his number has already been blocked. Seokjin must have some way of knowing that he has traveled, so whatever it is the man does for a living, he seems to at least have friends in high enough places. Perhaps even someone working with the bureau for which Seokjin lied about being employed.

As the plane pulls to its designated spot, anxiety takes over. Hoseok suddenly has no idea what he is doing or why he thought coming to Australia would be a good idea. There is a chance that he will find nothing. But, even if he does find what he is looking for, he acknowledges that it may very well be just another action on his long list of malfeasances against his marriage vows. Try as he might to convince himself that he is ready to move on, he is unsure how he might feel if he meets Park and Kim.

He is also anxious because he has to urinate. After several glasses of whiskey and a couple dealer's choice drinks concocted by the bartender that tasted like glorified Manhattans, Hoseok used the bathroom once shortly after takeoff and immediately passed out with his head against the window. It was a relief, at the time, to find he had the row of seats to himself, having the freedom to get up and move around as needed, but he had not used the freedom he had been granted.

It takes entirely too long to exit the plane, standing hunched over in his seat while his bladder screams and everyone files out as slowly as humanly possible, some fumbling with overhead compartments and others trying to wrangle children. There is truly nothing worse than a commercial flight, Hoseok is certain of it.

The first order of business is making a beeline to a bathroom the moment he steps from the jetway and onto solid floor. Hoseok groans as he situates himself before a urinal, practically moaning from relief as he empties his bladder. He is still somewhat drunk from earlier, and he has the overwhelming urge to either curl up and go to sleep, or keep drinking. Luckily, it is the middle of the night, leaving Hoseok with only one option.

A plus side to his government job is that Hoseok almost never has trouble booking a hotel. Regardless of the continent, people feel adamant to accommodate him the moment he flashes his government-issued identification card and winning smile. So when Hoseok calls the Park Hyatt, he is pleased that even over the phone at this ungodly hour, he is able to secure a room. It takes some convincing to allow him to check in immediately, rather than waiting for a more appropriate time, and Hoseok absolutely does make some shit up about it being official government duty, and that, if he likes, he could get someone local on the phone.

"That won't be necessary, sir," is music to Hoseok's ears as he speeds through the airport down to baggage claim.

By the time he hails a cab and sinks into the leather backseat, the weight of everything begins to press on him heavily. Hoseok is exhausted. He cannot wait to sleep. Tomorrow, his search begins.

Despite his exhaustion, Hoseok hardly sleeps a wink. The sun rises mere hours after he lays down, and although the curtains do an okay job of blocking out the sunlight, by 8 AM he is wide awake. He decides to take a shower and then find something to eat. If Park and Kim have been spotted clubbing, then Hoseok assumes they may also be the types to sleep late. And if they are Yoongi and Jeongguk occupying new bodies, it is likely they will order room service rather than venture out to a diner or café.

Still, Hoseok dresses in more casual clothing than usual and begins looking for somewhere local with a cup of coffee. At the very least, he wants to get a sense of the neighborhood, and take a walk along various paths that would lead him to and from the location Seokjin said they were spotted at.

Wearing a simple black tee tucked into black skinny jeans with a black leather belt and chelsea boots, Hoseok covers the bottom half of his face with a black mask and heads down to the lobby. His room is on the third floor, a far cry from the penthouse and executive suites he has grown accustomed to, but the tan and white furnished room is sleek and luxurious, and still roomy enough for one person to spend a few nights.

Although he knows there is no chance of spotting either of them in the hallway, he still looks over his shoulder, turning his head each time he hears another voice. The lobby is surprisingly crowded, and he glances around for two men roughly Yoongi and Jeongguk's height but with lighter brown and blond hair, not finding anyone who may look Korean.

Hoseok is so distracted walking through the lobby glancing around at everyone, that he bumps into someone, causing them to drop their phone in a clatter against the white marble floor. The person scrambles, and Hoseok bends instinctively to pick up what was dropped, nearly colliding with the other person's forehead.

"Shit, sorry," Hoseok mutters in English, bowing his head as he walks away, not looking the person in the eyes. He is too tired, and his pulse is spiked too high. He needs some fresh air.

As soon as he exits the hotel, the scenery does not seem too promising in terms of finding any kind of city life, with the hotel sitting on a harbor. But, evidently, there are several cafés and nightlife spots a short distance away, so Hoseok walks in the other direction from the waterfront.

The weather is nice, and Hoseok takes note of the nearby botanical garden that Seokjin mentioned days ago. He cannot help but think about the gardens in Osaka the day that everything truly started between the four of them, for better and for worse.

It only takes about five minutes to find a café, and he orders an Americano and sits near the window to survey the passersby and try to clear his head. Memorizing patterns and behavior is his job; this should be no problem, as long as Park and Kim are actually Yoongi and Jeongguk. It has to be them; he just knows it.

Once Hoseok drinks his coffee, he heads out past the nightclub, surveying more clubs and bars, judging them on whether he thinks Yoongi and Jeongguk would be likely to patronize. He even takes a stroll through the botanical garden with the hope of organizing his thoughts, but it feels like an impossible task. The more Hoseok settles into the neighborhood and lets the possibility of finding them sink in, the higher his nervousness builds.

He stops somewhere for food, just to get a sandwich and quell his hunger, then makes his way back to the hotel, deciding that perhaps he will eat in his room, then sit down at the bar for a drink. Even if he is at the bar by himself, he does not wish to be alone, especially in his quiet hotel room.

Later in the evening, Hoseok settles in against the marble countertop of the hotel bar and sips at a glass of neat whiskey. Although he tells himself he is not intentionally on the lookout for the two of them, he checks over his shoulders every so often. So much so that the bartender asks if he is waiting for someone.

"Hmm," Hoseok considers the question, then shrugs as he says, "Kind of."

After several drinks, Hoseok is groggy while walking to the nightclub. He arrives late enough for it to be packed, and does a round to the bar, glancing at the swarms of patrons before standing with a drink in hand and his eyes on the crowd. Once his drink is gone, he sets his empty glass on the counter and heads to the dancefloor to blow off some steam.

Strangers approach him to flirt, and he even allows a cute woman to wrap her arms around his shoulders and attempt to seduce him, going so far as to move his hips invitingly for a song or two. But everything feels empty and a little distracting, and he excuses himself to the bar, wishing her a good night before she can join him. After another drink, he stumbles back to the hotel, feeling worse for wear emotionally; drunk and very much wrapped up in his feelings. At least he is so exhausted that by the time his head hits the pillow, he is out like a light.

The second day is much the same. He takes a late lunch walking through the neighborhood, then through the botanical gardens and back, only to wind up bar hopping before landing at the same club as the night before. He drinks and dances alone, turning down strangers looking for a little fun. Then he stumbles back to his hotel alone, falling asleep before he has a chance to let everything weigh him down any further.

Hoseok almost does not leave his room on the third day, feeling a level of depression that is almost foreign to him. Never before has he felt so bogged down by hopelessness that all he can do is stare at the wall, with the exception of recovering from getting shot. Not since college, anyway. He wonders if his methods are failing because he is not likely to find Park and Kim where he would expect to find his friends. He worries they might actually not be his friends, after all.

Deciding that the route he has been taking for the last two days is not the correct one, Hoseok decides to head down to the pool for a little while and swim some laps. He is bored beyond belief, wishing he had a way to contact Seokjin and ask for more information. If he has a way of knowing Park and Kim have been to that nightclub, then he should be able to see other activity, so why is he staying silent?

Hoseok slides on a pair of salmon-colored swim shorts and puts on a white tee. The walk to the pool is winding and confusing, and by the time Hoseok reaches his destination, he is practically ready to turn back and return to his room, exasperated to the point of muttering under his breath. The sunlight coming in through the tall glass walls is too bright, the sounds of voices and shoes echoing through the marble corridors are all too loud, and Hoseok is fed up.

When he enters the pool area, there are two people sitting in the hot tub, a blond and a brunette, and Hoseok actually stops in his tracks, wondering if it could be them. One of them laughs, and the sound is so bright and sweet but also hauntingly deep, and it echoes delightfully over the largely otherwise empty space, bouncing off the water. Hoseok watches for a moment, but they stay huddled close together, and, from what little he can glean from their conversation, they seem to be speaking in English.

So he removes his shirt and shoes near a chair and heads for the deep end. Without giving it any thought, he throws his hands over his head and dives in. The water is simultaneously surprisingly cold and peacefully warm, waking up every inch of him, covering him in goosebumps and shrouding him in weightless comfort. He swims ahead as far as he can before his lungs begin to sting, signaling for him to come up for air. When he breaches the surface, the two people who were in the hot tub are gone, leaving him alone.

Hoseok nearly gives up. After swimming, he has the urge to search for flights back home and check out a couple days early. Something about this trip feels so empty and fruitless. He wonders whether, in his search for them, they have found him, and now they are hiding. Paranoia sinks in, and he begins to wonder if the two in the pool earlier could really have been them.

After showering, Hoseok puts on a white tee tucked into blue jeans, with a black jacket over top that has a floral pattern of pinks, blues, and whites. He decides that he will need to have a drink to gain the courage to leave, so he slides on his boots and heads down to the bar. This time, while he boards the elevator and walks through the lobby, he does not look for any familiar faces. This time, he stares ahead, at the boring white floor, attempting to talk himself into giving up and going home.

The bar appears packed when he approaches, so he leans with his elbow against the strip of space he manages to squeeze into, orders a glass of whiskey neat, and then steps away from the bar to lean against an equally boring marble pillar. Hoseok stares down into the caramel liquid as he swirls his glass, letting the scent of it waft into his nose.

This was a mistake, he thinks. Coming to Australia was a mistake.

Laughter breaks through the crowd, and Hoseok thinks that it sounds just like the one he heard in the pool earlier. His head perks up automatically, searching for the source of the laugh. He has no idea why, he just feels...drawn to it.

Briefly, he glances around, but he does not see anyone who such an angelic sound may have come from. That is, until someone who had been hunched over the bar stands up straight and turns his way.

The man who locks eyes with Hoseok is so beautiful, he struggles to comprehend it fully. His features are somehow razor sharp and pillow soft, plush and inviting. The man watches Hoseok for a beat with a curious expression, then he smiles, turns and walks away from the bar, past the row of pillars separating the space from the lobby.

"Wait," Hoseok mutters under his breath, craning his neck to try to see where the pretty man wandered off to, but the large, round marble columns block his view, and several people are standing in his way of moving quickly.

He knows he should not be so fixated on the appearance of a stranger, but something just feels...right about him. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that the man at the bar was Park Jimin. There is no mistaking it. Even in the shoddy security footage that Seokjin provided, those lips and that jawline were impossible to miss.

Hoseok feels frozen in place, but also driven by the desire to move. Move his feet, move his mouth, move anything that will get him closer to that man once more—that man who he is positive is Jimin. That man who could very well be Yoongi or Jeongguk.

But all he can manage to move in the moment is his arm. He lifts it just enough to tip the glass to his mouth, dumping the whiskey straight down his throat, resisting the burn that it leaves in its wake. With a wince and a slight sigh, Hoseok allows the strong, barrel-aged liquid settle over him.

He steps up to the bar, weaving between a few bodies on his way, and sets his empty glass down. With no tab to close because the drink has been added to his room, Hoseok lets out a fortifying sigh and turns to exit, but there is a man standing in his way who he nearly runs into.

"Oh, excuse me," the man says in English at the same time Hoseok mutters, "Sorry," in Korean.

"Do you speak Korean?" the man asks in Korean, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up and finds himself face-to-face with Adonis, himself.

This man is so handsome, his visuals rival fine art; captivating in the way his features rest in a slight frown. His eyes are expressive, and his voice is deep as the ocean but as smooth as silk. This has to be Kim Taehyung.

"Yeah," Hoseok responds after a beat, feeling heat rise to his face once he realizes he has been staring. He attempts to recover, adding, "Sorry, I got thrown off hearing someone speak Korean after several days of speaking English."

The other beauty approaches from behind this man and places his hands on the man's arms, peeking from around his shoulder with a shy smile. Hoseok lifts his hand and mutters, "Hello," earning a soft, "Hi," in response, setting a swarm of butterflies in his tummy to take flight.

"Are you here alone?" the tall one asks, earning him a slap on the arm from the shorter one.

"Tae," the shorter one grumbles, confirming Hoseok's suspicions.

"What?" the man who must be Kim Taehyung whines, turning his body so the man who must be Park Jimin is in clearer view. "He was surprised to hear me speak Korean. Maybe he could use some company."

"I am alone," Hoseok responds, swallowing a lump as both beautiful men turn their attention back to him. "I'm here for work, but there was a change in plans, so now I'm just...killing time."

He has no idea why he says all of that. Perhaps there is a part of him that does not want them to think he is just here for them—if they are, in fact, his friends. They have not given him a reason to believe they are, but he has not given up hope; perhaps they are trying to suss out the situation before admitting to what they have done.

"I'm Taehyung," the man confirmed as Kim Taehyung says as he holds out his hand, and Hoseok takes it with a bow of his head as he says, "Hoseok."

"Jimin," the man confirmed as Park Jimin says with a small wave, and Hoseok bows his head as he responds, "Nice to meet you two."

"We were thinking about heading to a whiskey bar up the street," Taehyung says, cocking his head to the side and giving Hoseok a lazy smile. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure," Hoseok responds without giving it any thought. He is desperate to interact with other people, and now that he has found the two men he has been searching for, his heart pounds with anticipation.

"Alright," Jimin says with an inviting smile and eyes that shimmer in the golden light of the hotel bar, causing the vines around Hoseok's ribs to bloom brightly. "Let's go."

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